Stolen Hearts

Chapter 12: Trust in Unlikely Places

Emma didn't think she'd ever trust anyone again. Life had taught her the hard way that trust was fragile, easily shattered by betrayal and disappointment. Yet, the more time she spent with Killian, the more that familiar wall of distrust began to crumble. It was slow and hesitant, but there it was—a growing sense of trust she hadn't felt in years, maybe ever. There was something about him, a quiet strength beneath the surface, a loyalty that ran deep. With him, she didn't have to look over her shoulder or question his motives. She felt safe.

Sitting on the couch, Emma's eyes drifted toward Killian, who was leaning back in the armchair, seemingly relaxed, but she could tell there was a heaviness hanging over him. She shifted uncomfortably before finally breaking the silence.

"I'm sorry you got suspended from your job because of me," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of guilt she had been holding onto. She hated the thought that she had caused him trouble, that her problems had bled into his life in such a way.

Killian sighed deeply, the sound filled with a weariness that came from more than just this recent event. Shaking his head, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "It wasn't because of you," he assured her, his voice firm yet gentle. His blue eyes met hers, filled with sincerity. "My captain and I... we've never seen eye to eye, not since I first became a detective."

He paused, rubbing the back of his neck as if the memory weighed on him. "I've always done things a little differently—taken risks, pushed boundaries. My captain... well, let's just say he's not a fan of that. We've butted heads more times than I can count." He let out a dry chuckle, though there was no humor behind it. "This was just the final straw, I guess."

Emma frowned, her heart aching at the thought of Killian losing something so important because of her situation. She knew how much being a detective meant to him—it wasn't just a job, it was a part of who he was. "Still... if it weren't for me, maybe things would've been different."

Killian shook his head again, this time more insistently. "No, love. This would've happened eventually. I made the choices I made because I believed they were right, not because of you." He stood, crossing the room to sit beside her on the couch. His presence was steady, and grounding, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, more personal. "Besides, I'd make those choices again. Helping you... it's worth whatever consequences come my way."

Emma looked up at him, surprise flickering in her eyes. She wasn't used to this—someone willing to stick by her side, no matter the cost. It made her heart beat a little faster and made her chest tighten with emotions she wasn't ready to face. But for now, she allowed herself to feel the smallest flicker of hope, a hope that maybe, just maybe, she wasn't alone in this after all.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, but in the silence of the room, it felt like the most important thing she had said all night.

Killian nodded, his gaze never leaving her face as he absorbed her words. He studied her for a moment longer, sensing the weight behind what she was saying, but choosing his words carefully before he spoke. There was a silence between them, not uncomfortable, but thick with unspoken truths. Finally, he tilted his head slightly, his eyes soft yet curious. "You almost seemed... surprised?" His voice was quiet, and measured, as though he didn't want to push too hard but needed to understand what was going on beneath the surface.

Emma sighed, feeling a wave of anxiety crash over her, the familiar sensation of being vulnerable making her want to retreat. But there was something about Killian—something in the way he looked at her, the way he listened, that made her feel safe enough to stay. Slowly, she stood, the energy in her too restless to remain seated. Her fingers flexed, and she began to pace, her footsteps soft on the floor but heavy with the emotions she had spent years burying.