Summary: Fear for her unborn child, a bruised and broken Emma Swan is determined to escape an abusive marriage. After she drives a long way from home to a small town in Maine, she doesn’t think her life could get more complicated… that is until she ends up falling for her OBGYN, a blue-eyed British man who’s shielded his heart from love long ago. But he may be just what she needs to begin her healing process and start a new life for her child. If only nothing gets in the way.
Notes: Alright, here we go. I had to edit this chapter many, many times until I was happy with it. I owe a big thank you to Rouhn for beta reading. This chapter moves ahead at a quicker pace because I know some of you are anxious to meet baby Swan. While we won’t be meeting him this chapter, we’re very very close. I will warn you though, that it’s a bit of a rollercoaster ride so hold on tight!
*TRIGGER WARNING* Mentions and depictions of physical and verbal abuse/domestic violence towards a pregnant woman.
Killian’s jaw was clenched, holding his pregnant girlfriend in his arms while she sobbed into his chest with relentless tears. He was going to kill the fucking asshole with his own two hands for sending Emma into such a state of despair. She had looked like she was enjoying her time at the shower, he could tell she was uncomfortable near the end, but she was smiling and overall happy… until she received that last gift. Mary Margaret and David had called some of the guests who left, but none of them saw who delivered the present. Regardless, they all knew it was from Neal.
Killian gently released Emma with a kiss to her forehead before she turned to Mary Margaret and David, who took her in their arms, holding her tightly. It tore his heart to see his Swan in tears, he had to do something about it. He was not going to let Neal get away with this.
“That’s it, I’m going to find that bloody bastard myself,” Killian stated angrily as he started marching for the door with purpose. “James, you coming?”
“Gladly.” James didn’t even have to ponder the question. He immediately took off towards the door, following behind Killian. “Let’s find this asshole.”
“Woah woah woah, guys.” David put his hands up as he approached them. Killian and James turned around hesitantly. “I think we should let the Sheriff handle this, don’t you think?”
Killian gritted his teeth at the thought of the smug deputy who had the audacity to hit on Emma. “Yeah, except the Sheriff is too busy playing a bloody matchmaker and the deputy is too busy asking out my girlfriend, so I think it’s time to take matters into our own hands.”
“The deputy asked out Emma?” James asked in surprise.
“Not the bloody point,” Killian replied spitefully.
“Guys, he has a gun. Please don’t,” Emma beseeched the two of them as she approached with tear-stained cheeks. “You’ll both get hurt.”
“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he assured her, his voice cracked and hoarse.
“Well, I’m not,” she told him adamantly. “I just found you and I’m not going let Neal take anything else from me.”
His voice grew soft as he closed the distance between them, taking both of her hands in his. “Emma-”
“Killian, don’t you see? This is what he wants. He wants to get us riled up. He wants you to go after him. This is just a trap. He’s sadistic and manipulative like that, believe me,” she pleaded, eyes glistening and swollen from shedding tears. “Please Killian. Don’t go.”
I whirled, and through the night drifting away like smoke on a wind, I found Rhysand straightening the lapels of his black jacket.
“Hello, Feyre darling,” he purred.
I barely saw my silk slipper as it flew through the air, fast as a shooting star, so fast even a High Lord couldn’t detect it as it neared-
And slammed into his head. Rhys whirled, a hand rising to the back of his head, his eyes wide. I already had the other shoe in my hand.
Rhys’s lip pulled back from his teeth. “I dare you.”
Sometimes when I am editing, I have to wonder if other Brits go through the same disconnect that happens when a US writer refers to women’s underwear as “panties”.
It’s especially jarring when I read it in fic meant to be set in the UK, and I just know the words “take your panties off” just wouldn’t fly, especially in Scots. Knickers, yes, and even briefs and drawers. But panties, not so much.
Like I know it’s in our vernacular too, and maybe I’m just showing my age (what do I know what the kids are saying these days, old thing that I apparently am), but panties just has such a juvenile and patronizing quality to it that the word just makes me want to shrink in on myself. I dunno, maybe it’s just me being to finicky. Which I suppose is kind of the point when you hire me to make accurate cultural edits like Brit Eye for the Yankie but whatever, I feel certain in telling you the word “panties” would not have been used in 17th century Scotland.
Although if you want to tell someone not to get their pantaloons in a twist, I’m 100% here for this.