16
GRAY
Seeing Emory cry was like having a knife shoved into my gut and twisted, jagged and raw and excruciating. While I knew she wasn’t injured—thank f**k—her adrenaline had finally bled away, leaving the stark reality of the night exposed. I was glad to see her cry, to know she was working through the feelings, to let them out.
I’d been such a s**t leaving her alone. It was what I thought she would want—peace and quiet and no worries that I had underhanded desires for getting her in my bed. Seeing her so… broken and lost, I’d tried. I really had tried to leave her be, but I didn’t have the strength or the willpower to do so. I needed her with a ferocity that scared me, but I didn’t f*****g care about my own fears. I had to ease Emory’s. When she was happy, I was happy. When she was s
