The Perfect Homecoming (Pine River #3)

“I’m not hiding—”

“The hell you aren’t,” he said. “You hide behind sarcasm; you put distance between you and everyone who tries to get close. I get that you’ve had some rough things happen in life, that maybe the world isn’t as easy for you as it is for someone else. But there is a lot of life stretching in front of you, Emma, and you don’t have to keep living this way.”

She wished she could believe that, or even just hope for it. But she’d lived too many years in her skin to dismiss it just because they’d had great sex. “Do you know how crazy you sound right now?” she said, exasperated. “A guy like you? A guy who could be with anyone he wanted to be with? And you’re going to choose someone like me? You’re crazy! Maybe you’re the one with issues!”

“I’m not crazy; I’m into you. What’s wrong with that? Why can’t you believe it?”

He was scaring her now. He wasn’t thinking, he wasn’t understanding how bizarre her life had become. “Cooper, we had a thing! Don’t read so much into it, okay? I’m not a nice person. I’m not going to magically turn into someone you’ll want to be with. This isn’t Pygmalion. You can’t remake me!”

His face darkened. “Thanks for telling me what I want,” he said. “Maybe you should think a little more about what you want. You keep telling yourself that you’re no good, and baby, it will become the truth.”

She stared at him, her mind whirling. “I’m not going back to LA.”

Cooper ran his hand over his head. He took the jeans she was holding and pulled them on, then reached for his boots. “I like you,” he said angrily. “Goddammit, I don’t know why, but I like you a lot.” He yanked on his second boot and stood up, towering over her. “You don’t scare me, Emma. You don’t put me off. I’m offering you a chance at something different. Something meaningful. So I’ll be in LA if you ever wake up.” He started for the door.

“Wait! What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“I have a plane to catch,” he said curtly, and yanked open the door, striding out of her room and down the hall.

“Cooper!” she cried, but he was already on the stairs.

She didn’t go after him; she was frozen. She heard Madeline or Libby cry out with surprise or alarm, their voices rising up almost as one as they pummeled Cooper with questions. Emma heard the rumble of Cooper’s voice outside, then Libby and Madeline again. It all sounded so far away from her. Miles and miles from her.

Emma remained standing where Cooper had left her, swaying a little, light-headed with grief and confusion. Her mind was racing as fast as her heart; she was unable to grasp any thought other than stupid girl. Stupid, stupid girl.

Emma liked Cooper a lot, too. But she was terrified of disappointing him. How could she not? Eventually, he would see her in all her glory. Not that cute. Brass tacks coming out of her mouth. An inability to grasp social nuances. Issues with sex. He would recoil, he would back away. He would leave her! He would choose someone else!

She had done the right thing, rejecting his offer. He didn’t know it, but she’d done the right thing. Hadn’t she?

She could hear Madeline or Libby coming up the stairs, heard one of them calling her name. Emma sank down onto her bed, her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Emma?” It was Libby beside her, pushing her hair out of her face. “Hey, are you all right?”

“I’m fine.”

“I mean is everything okay?” Libby asked, crouching down beside her. Madeline had come in, too, was hovering near the door as if she was uncertain whether to stay or go. “We saw Cooper leave. We didn’t know you guys were up here.”

“Well, now you know.”

Libby put her hand on Emma’s knee. “Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it?”

Emma pushed her hair from her face and looked at Libby’s pale blue eyes. Yes, she wanted to talk about it. She wanted to tell them what had happened, to hear it all again. She wanted someone to know how much she was hurting right now. But Emma couldn’t do it. Years of conditioning would not release their hold on her, and she couldn’t make herself admit what had happened.

“I can’t . . . I can’t really talk about it,” she said, sounding slightly apologetic.

Libby sighed and exchanged a look with Madeline. That look! That I knew it, I told you so look.

“Okay, Em.” Libby stood up and walked to the door.

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it,” Emma tried to explain. “I just can’t.”

“Come down,” Madeline said, and she touched Libby’s shoulder, as if Libby were the injured one, as if Libby had just sent her best hope for happiness storming out the door. “I’ll make some coffee.”

Madeline and Libby disappeared.