Will

 

Will finally gathered himself enough to leave the bedroom. He’d been ready to storm after Liz and shake the truth out of her, but he knew that wasn’t the answer. He’d stayed in the room until he was sure he had his temper in check. But once outside, the pulsing lights and blaring music put him on edge again. This was the last place Will felt like being tonight. He hadn’t even wanted to come once he found out Emma wasn’t coming. What the hell was he thinking telling Cranston to throw a party to win Emma back? He couldn’t even hear himself think in here, let alone try to talk through a year of misunderstanding.

He’d made up his mind to take off when a flash of white caught Will’s eye. It was Emma, her white dress cutting a path through the packed dance floor toward the exit. Will was moving in an instant.

Emma

Emma was halfway through the dance floor when she slipped. She went down hard, feeling a sharp pain in her knees as they made impact with the sticky floor. Could this night get any worse?

Before she could answer that question, two hands reached down from the darkness to pull her to her feet. She steadied herself to thank the kind stranger, but of course it wasn’t a stranger at all. Will stood before her, looking as white knight as ever. He wore a white dress shirt, untucked and a thin gray tie. His dark hair was rumpled and his smile was heart-stopping.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m great,” she said as the room swayed. Emma felt herself sway with it until Will caught her again.

“You don’t look great. I think you should sit down,” he said leading her from the dance floor to the nearest chairs.

Will nabbed two bottles of water on their way as Emma limped behind him. He caught the hitch in her step and a look of concern passed over his face. “Are you hurt?”

“I don’t think so,” she mumbled and Will helped her into a ridiculously modern chair that looked more like the letter S than a piece of furniture.

“Why are you limping?” Will asked.

“Hmm?” She’d already forgotten the question. It was hard to focus with the flashing lights and swaying room. She squinted at Will. Were there two of him? He pulled an identical S chair close and sat down in front of her. “Em, are you okay?”

Emma giggled, watching Will try to settle all six-foot-three of him into the odd chair.

“What’s so funny?” Will asked.

“You look silly.”

“Me? What about you? What happened to your dress?”

Emma shrugged. “Martinis.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “How many have you had?”

“A few.”

“As in a few too many?” Will asked.

“Maybe,” Emma slurred.

“How ‘bout you let me take you home?”

“I don’t think Liz would like that.”

“I don’t care what Liz likes,” Will replied. “I care about you, Em.”

Emma’s heart jumped, but she pulled away from Will when he reached for her hand. Emma realized that they were sitting rather close together and she straightened up, crossing her legs as a barrier. The action sent a stab of pain through her knee and she winced.

“Shit, Emma! You’re bleeding!”

“What?”

“Your leg,” Will said jumping into action. He left the chair behind and knelt next to her, gently touching her left leg just below her knee. “I think there’s a piece of glass in it.”

“What!” Emma looked down and sure enough something other than blood shimmered from the slice in her skin. “Omigod, get it out! Get it out!”

“Hold on.”

Liz! Emma was going to kill her. None of this would be happening if she hadn’t pushed that cocktail waitress into Emma on the dance floor. No one had cleaned up the glass and now Emma was paying for it. She let a tiny sob escape. Why had she ever thought martinis were the answer?

Will slipped her shoe off and poured some of his water bottle over the wound. Emma watched a stream of blood wash down her leg and a heat wave of nausea crashed over her. She started shaking. Emma hated blood. Ever since she was a little kid even the smallest drop of it would make her queasy.

“Em, take a deep breath, you’re gonna be fine. It’s only a tiny cut.”

Emma squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the urge to pass out.

She felt Will clasp her hand. “Em, you with me?”

Emma swayed as her vision began to tunnel. “I hate blood,” she squeaked.

“I remember.”

“Make it stop,” she whispered. “Please make it stop, Will.”

Will

The pleading tone of Emma’s voice broke Will’s heart. This was much worse than a crying girl. This was Emma crying. His Emma. And listening to her begging him to make the pain stop was enough to make him want to lasso the moon. He knew she hated blood. He couldn’t believe she hadn’t already passed out at the sight of it.

Once, she’d gotten a bloody nose on the playground while on the swings. She passed out, fell off and broke her arm. Will had never been more scared than he was when he watched the ambulance take Emma away. He was devastated he couldn’t go to the hospital with her, so he’d made Sharon take him there after school to see her.

Will didn’t want a repeat of that adventure. He needed to distract her. “Em, do you remember the name of that squirrel we rescued in Central Park?” he asked.

Emma hiccupped and nodded her head. “Scratchy.”

“That’s right. How could I forget? Remember how mad your mother was when we brought him home?” Will grinned at Emma. “She was convinced I had rabies.”

Emma smiled. “That’s cause the crazy thing bit you and scratched your face to pieces.”

Will laughed. “Yeah, maybe putting him in a backpack while riding bikes to your place wasn’t the smartest idea.” He glanced up at Emma as he gently began working the glass from her leg. She was white as a sheet. Not good. He needed to keep her talking. “Do you remember what you told me after the great squirrel debacle?” Will asked.

Emma only exhaled a tiny sob.

Will kept talking. “You said you’d still be my friend, even if I had rabies and wasn’t pretty anymore.”

Emma nodded, a tight smile on her face. “I remember.”

“Ta da!” Will grinned up at her and held the tiny piece of glass he’d pulled from her leg triumphantly. “All done.”

“Really?” Emma threw her arms around his neck and sobbed. “Thank you,” she whispered over and over again as hot tears streaked down her cheeks.

Will held her tight, letting himself inhale the sweet scent of her pretty blonde hair and instantly all their problems melted away. God, he could hold her forever. Why were some things so easy between them, and others impossible?

Will pulled Emma close, rubbing her back while she collected herself. He was glad he could help. He knew she’d always been embarrassed by her squeamishness, but it was just one more thing he adored about her. It made her seem more real. Most people didn’t get to the see the Emma that Will had fallen for.

To the rest of the world, Emma was a cool, collected, Manhattan fashionista. She always looked flawless and rocked the confidence to match. Every girl wanted to be her and every boy wanted to be with her. But underneath her perfectly poised exterior, Will knew Emma was a sweet girl, with a kind heart, who loved animals, held his hand during scary movies and only felt weak at the sight of blood. And there was a part of him that loved that she needed him when she was scared. Because that was the true fear that had always made Will keep his feelings for Emma at bay. He knew that she didn’t need him. And he was terrified that one day she’d figure that out and he’d lose her forever. Although waiting too long to tell her how he felt had the same effect it seemed.

Emma’s sobs trailed off to a quiet hiccup and she pulled away to glance down at her bloodstained leg. Her bottom lip began to wobble and Will took her face in both his hands. “Don’t look, okay? I’m gonna clean it up and then we’re going home.”

“I can’t go home,” Emma protested. “Not like this. My father . . . and Tara . . .” Emma groaned. “I got in a fight with her. I said some really awful things.”

“Okay, we’ll go to my house and let things calm down. You can smooth things over tomorrow, okay?”

Emma nodded.

“Now close your eyes.”

She did and Will worked quickly. He poured the rest of his water bottle over the thin cut on Emma’s leg. It wasn’t deep but it continued to bleed. He slipped his tie off and used it as a makeshift bandage, tying it gently around her leg. “There,” he said proudly inspecting his work. “All done. Let’s go.” He stood up and offered Emma his hand. She took it, but teetered like a fawn with one high heel still on.

Will tried not to smile at her adorableness. Instead, he grabbed her abandoned shoe and scooped her into his arms. “I’ve got ya, Cinderella.”

“Don’t call me that. I hate fairytales.”

Will smirked. “I know. But I always like the way they end,” he said planting a kiss on her forehead.

Emma groaned and buried her face into his neck, which only made Will smile wider. Maybe today hadn’t turned out so bad after all. He had his princess in his arms and was carrying her home, where she belonged.