I let out a deep breath, resting my head on the chains of the swing.
The masquerade ball, his appearance there and the weird little interlude we had, it wasn’t reality.
But him being in my home, with my entire family watching us like we were up on a stage? That was real enough to leave me feeling unsettled.
Apparently, this was something I couldn’t roll with very easily.
With the sun on my face, I closed my eyes and tried to breathe through all the things fighting for top space in my head. But I still heard the crunch of the ground as he walked toward me.
And I knew it was him because my asshole siblings would’ve tried to scare me in my moment of sublime peace.
Emmett’s steps were measured. He wasn’t trying to be quiet, wasn’t trying to rush to where I was, and because of that, I kept my eyes firmly shut.
But my hands were sweating where I held the chains of the swing. My heart was thundering erratically. Somehow—because Parker had correctly pinpointed my fear—I’d ended up alone with him anyway.
“Is this gonna break if I sit in it?”
I couldn’t help my smile. “It’s holding me up.”
“You weigh a lot less than I do, Miss Wilder.”
At the polite moniker, something he’d never called me, my eyes popped open. He had his hands wrapped around the chains of the other swing, testing the sturdiness of the beam. Emmett glanced down at me.
“You okay?” he asked, voice a low rumble. “You seemed quiet at lunch.”
“I’m hiding from you.”
I didn’t mean to say it, but the words popped out so quickly, so easily, there was no stopping the widening of my eyes. Emmett’s eyebrows popped up briefly, his cheeks turning the slightest shade of pink.
Before he said anything, he looked back at the house, took a deep breath, and then turned toward me again.
“Do you want me to go?” His eyes were brimming with intensity, and that was part of the problem. It was also why the filter between my brain and my mouth seemed to be permanently misplaced.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
But it was enough for him, so he nodded and slowly moved behind me. He curled his hands over top of mine on the chain, and I fought a shiver.
His palms were warm, his fingers rough with callouses when he pulled my swing back, releasing me so I moved in a gentle swaying motion.
I straightened my legs so my shoes didn’t drag, and instead of using the chain to push me again, Emmett occasionally laid his big hand along my back to keep my momentum going.
I let out a small laugh when the wind pushed my hair across my face. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve done this,” I said over my shoulder.
“You said something similar when we danced.”
His hands lingered as he stepped forward with me, giving me a bit bigger push. My stomach swooped at the height I reached even though it was nothing compared to the way we used to soar as kids.
“I guess there’s a lot I haven’t done in the past few years.” I glanced back. “A little lower, please. No one needs me puking on the playground.”
He laughed, catching the chains to slow my momentum.
“Nick’s an idiot for not dancing with you,” he said.
“Agreed,” I answered lightly. “I’m quite good at it with the right partner.”
He hummed, a low satisfied sound that caused a pleasant curling sensation in my toes. “And the right shoes, too.”
My grin came easily. “You’d be amazed what I can do in these sneakers.”