Emma could feel her fingers going numb even though she had her gloves on. She didn’t mind – the cold nipping at her made her feel better than she had in the last two days. She hadn’t even driven the bug to the loft, which didn’t help her case. Every time she thought of the loft, she would picture the pitying glances she got from her parents, Regina, and Henry. Instead of it giving her consolation, she felt white, hot anger every time she thought of that. She chose to think about that instead of him. Instead of how it had felt to come back to an empty house – to know he had left; to know he had abandoned her. Which was why, as she hurried towards the house, she stopped short in complete shock. Relief spread through her as she saw him sitting on the porch. He looked up at her and she could see how unsure he was about her reaction.
“Killian,” she barely whispered, not moving. It was as if he was an illusion that would shatter the second she moved towards him.
“Emma,” he responded, standing up, trying to hide the crushing guilt that he felt when she didn’t walk towards him. It was one of those rare times where he wasn’t able to read her emotions behind her expression of shock. He couldn’t tell if she was happy to see him or not. There was a deafening silence before he said, “I’m sorry.”