Chapter 6

Confrontation at the Store

I have a sick feeling in my stomach the moment I see him enter the bookstore.

Jake Miller was the one.

This guy used to make me feel something. It was whoever broke me.

I force myself to breathe while clenching my knuckles around the counter's edge. I want to act as though I'm not seeing him and that I'm not feeling the weight of his slackening stare. However, it isn't feasible. I am aware of him in every part of my body, from the way my pulse deceives me with its frantic speed to the way the air becomes denser around him.

Except for the faint rustle of pages as a customer peruses the corner, the store is silent. The scents of old paper and newly brewed coffee are still present, but they are insufficient to cover up the storm that is brewing between us.

I try to turn aside and act like he's not there, which is stupid, but I still do it.

He moves slowly and methodically toward me, but as he gets closer, his gaze is fixed on mine. There is no hesitation or doubt. Just his overwhelming, continuous presence, which was like a flood dragging me under.

"Emma," he says in a stern yet hushed voice.

I tighten my jaw. "Jake."

His name is simultaneously freezing and burning on my tongue, like fire and ice.

With piercing, questioning eyes, he replies, "You've been avoiding me."

I laugh. "You think?"

"I need an explanation." His tone has an intensity that makes my heart pound in my chest, even though he doesn't raise his voice. "What made you go? Why didn't you let me know your location?

I laughed hard, my voice bitter and empty. "You mean after you tossed me aside as if I wereshowedhless? When you clearly shown that I was irrelevant?”

He clenches his jaw. "You were important. You still do.

"No." I take a step back, making room, and shake my head. "This is not yours to do. You don't get to come and demand answers after years of waiting. That right was taken away from you long ago.

At his sides, his hands clench into fists. "I didn't want you gone."

I force myself to swallow, fighting the feeling that is rising in my throat. "Oh, you did."

Between us, there is a thick, oppressive silence. I am unable to stop staring at him, even if I don't want to. He has evolved. He's sharper and more polished today, yet there's sorrow and desperation in his eyes that weren't there before.

He remains still. "I am aware that you are concealing something."

I tense up. My blood becomes cold.

His voice drops to a whisper as he leans in a little. "And I won't go until I know what it is."

I suppress the panic that flutters in my chest. He is unable to know. He's not even able to suspect.

I maintain a neutral attitude while crossing my arms. "I have nothing to say."

His eyes get bigger. "Don't tell me lies."

"I'm telling the truth," I yell. "Jake, I moved on. Perhaps you ought to as well.

His eyes spark with something pain, anger, something else. I fight the want to back off as he takes a step closer.

Then, with a silent challenge woven into his words, he lowers his voice. "You have children."

My breath catches. My heart stops.

I can feel the ground shifting beneath me, the edges of my well-constructed fortifications crumbling.

"What?" I can hardly raise my voice above a whisper.

He looks at me carefully, interpreting every facial expression. "I observed them. Two boys. Twins. Although his tone is almost accusing, there is also a raw quality to it. "They appear—" He pauses as if he finds it difficult to utter.

As if he can't make himself speak what his mind is screaming already.

I make myself maintain my composure and steady breathing. "You have no business dealing with them."

His eyes darken, and his jaw clenches. "Are they mine?"

My ribs have been crushed by my heart.

No, no, no.

This isn't possible.

I barely manage to hold my respiration as I say, "Jake, stay out of my life."

But his intent hardens like stone, and his eyes get piercing. "Until I learn the truth,"

Before he can see the truth plastered on my face, I turn on my heel and dash into the backroom.

With my back to the door, I pound my heart so loudly that it reverberates in my ears. He is unable to know. He is unable to.

I'm startled by a harsh knock.

"Emma." I can still hear the steel in the door, but his voice is muted. "This is not the end of it."

I forcefully close my eyelashes, forcing myself to be resilient.

My phone buzzes in my pocket after that. With unsteady hands, I fish it out, anticipating another unidentified number another warning from the past I've been running from.

It's worse, though.

One message from an anonymous number appears on the screen: "You have other issues besides him. You ought to have remained undercover.

As I read it over and over again, my mind racing with potential outcomes, ice runs through my veins.

Before I can respond, a loud shatter reverberates from the storefront. A customer yells. As I shove past the door and go out, my breath catches in my throat.

The floor is covered in broken objects from the front window. Jake is already scanning the surroundings as well as high alert. As I take in the devastation, my heart races, and I feel like I've been violated.

My phone then buzzes one more.

A second message, straightforward and chilling.  "This is only the start."

In my ears, the beat of my heart roars.

Jake looks at me, his expression grim and unbreakable. "What the devil is happening, Emma?"

I have no response.

Because I thought I had buried the past?

I was newly discovered.