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But he is not a child. He can exercise control in service to doing this right – she’s been hurt too badly to get it wrong. He lets her lead.
Tension falls away. Every time they kiss, it’s like coming home.
“Speak plain, Emma.”
“You look beautiful, and I fucking hate that he put you in that dress.”
“Keep holding me.” “I’m not gonna stop.”
Emma knows that sometimes in this life, you get insight, you develop a skill. Doesn’t necessarily mean that your future path is pre-determined along those lines.
“You need a break.” “I need a hug,” he says gruffly. “Come ‘ere.”
“Is that what you really want?” Travis turns and looks at Emma – the sharp planes of her face, the spiky darkness of her hair, her wide, questioning eyes. He sees light streaming off her, tracers in his vision. This girl…this girl is like a star. A glimmering north star, a beacon, and he needs that so much right now. “All I know is that I want you,” he blurts, and he reaches out, brings her face to his.
He always thought he’d be managing this, making everything right for her, exerting control. But it’s not like that. She takes over. He can let go. He loses his wits with her. Turns out that’s okay.
The light in here is a low, warm orange from the lamp she’s working by: It feels homey, and he realizes dully that’s because Emma is here, that she represents home to him now.
The FBI has offered him a law enforcement career. Emma…Emma has offered him a home. He doesn’t think he can have both. Emma’s fought with him and bled with him, but he’s pretty sure she’s had enough of bleeding.
“Let me hold you,” he whispers. “That’s why I’m here,” she says, and draws him close.
the slow smile spilling over his face is like seeing the sun come up on the mountains.
“Are you?” He keeps his voice quiet. “Ever going home, I mean?” “Don’t you know, Travis?” She touches a hand to his cheek, brings his face around. She’s smiling. “I’m already home.”
“Oh, wow,” Emma says wonderingly. “Look at that sky.” “I’m looking,” Travis says, but it’s her he’s looking at.
