And then the tears were leaking from my eyes anyway, rolling over my cheeks in hot drops of shame and relief. I didn’t want to cry, damn it. I was a grown woman, not a snotty, snivelling child in need of cuddles and reassurances … Then again … what if I was? One of us. The tears flowed harder. ‘Em …’ He stepped closer, holding out a slightly bloodied hand. ‘I’m so very sorry. Come here, little brat.’ I all but flew into his arms. His hug was tight and protective. One of us.
