Chapter Text
Emma POV
Really, Emma thought as the music rattled inside her skin, she should've brought her noise-canceling headphones.
Metal concerts were not her scene. It wasn't her genre of music, it wasn't her crowd, and it certainly wasn't where she expected to spend her hot Saturday evening. When Dennis handed her the tickets, giving her those desperate please-get-out-of-the-apartment eyes, Emma couldn't say no to her childhood best friend and roommate.
She watched from a safe distance as Dennis's older boyfriend, Robby, pulled him into the crowd. A sea of black T-shirts soon swallowed him up. He had his hand firmly on Dennis’s hand as they went into the crowd to get closer to the stage. Emma gave them a small wave and turned away from the crowd before she was accidentally dragged toward the mosh pits.
She walked around for a bit, taking in the crowd, looking at people, and just generally trying to find a way to calm down. She found a massive oak tree at the edge of the field, and sank against it, her back to it. Emma had grabbed a small crochet project with her, just to keep her hands busy. She was making coasters for their mugs at home. Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Again.
Emma stared at the screen, seeing Will’s name flashing across the display. Her chest tightened as she grabbed her phone and swiped to answer. “Will, I'm at a festival with Dennis; now is not a go-”
“I don't care where you are, Emma; we need to talk about the logistics,” Will’s voice cut through her, sharp and impatient. Emma clenched her jaw at being interrupted yet again. “The company wants me in Chicago by the first of the month. I told my boss you're putting in your notice at the hospital this week.”
Emma froze, her heart beating fast in her chest. “You what?”
“It makes no sense for you to finish, or even start at PTMC when we're moving,” he said, sounding like a man explaining basic math to a child. “My salary will be more than enough for both of us. You don't even need to work. We can get married, set up a house, have ki-”
“Will!” she said loudly to cut him off. “I'm 22. I worked my ass off to skip a year and get into the RN program. You don't make decisions about my life without talking to me first.” Her voice was sharp, erratic, loud enough for passersby to look at her as she fought to be heard by her boyfriend.
“Don't get so dramatic,” Will snapped. “I'm trying to build a future for us. Stop being so selfish and think about somebody else for once. Call me when you've calmed down.”
The line went dead.
Emma pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it in astonished silence. She dropped her phone into her lap and stared at her knees, trying to calm down. This was them for almost three months now. Constantly fighting, arguing about whatever decisions Will had made without talking to her, and Emma constantly feeling like she was on the edge of a full-blown panic attack. Her vision blurred with tears, her heart rate skyrocketed, as she took a long, steadying breath. She was trying so hard to quiet down the wild hammering of her heart and the sting in her chest that it took a moment for her to realize that she wasn't alone anymore.
She squeezed her eyes shut, leaning her head back against the tree, trying to center herself when a small whine came from beside her. Emma opened her eyes; standing directly in front of her was a massive, pitch-black German Shepherd. He was ramrod straight, ears perked, and his eyes were locked on her chest. Her anxiety had made her breathless, but she pushed through it to concentrate on the dog. He had a collar on that said service dog and no tags. The owner must be nearby then, she thought through her panic.
“Oh, hello, you!” she said. Emma smiled at him and looked around, trying to find the owner, but no one caught her attention. “Hi, sweetheart. Who do you belong to?”
She was tempted to reach out and touch the fur, which looked extremely soft, but hesitated. What if he bit her? She looked around again, but there was no one around, so she slowly reached out her hand. The dog dropped low on the ground and scooted closer to her, his snout hitting the side of her thigh. His ears flattened slightly, and his shoulders relaxed. Even though he was wearing a collar that said service dog on it, there wasn't a no-petting sign, so she figured it was okay to pet… Right? And it looked like the dog would've bit her hand off if she were out of line, so feeling shaky and a bit slow, she reached out and placed her hand on top of his head. He huffed and looked around himself with his eyes and then started panting, as if to say I’m safe to touch, don’t worry!
“You're just a big, ol’ sweetheart, aren't you?” she whispered to him. Feeling more confident, and her heart rate surprisingly slowing down, she ran both her hands down his body and up, and he flipped on his back and looked up at her, with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Oh, yes, you are!” she giggled. “Who's a good boy, huh? You love belly rubs, don't you?”
“On me!”
The dog was back on high alert, and she flinched back as he stood up ramrod straight and bolted for the person who called for him. Emma clutched her chest, heart beating fast, as she looked up at the person who called for the dog. A man stood not too far from her. The dog was next to him in that obedient way, his head up and staring at the man. The man was dressed in black like the rest of the crowd: a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, black cargo pants, and cargo boots. He was a muscled man, and his arms were completely covered in tattoos. Emma could make out a wolf tattoo on his bicep, spiderwebs on the back of his hands, and many more small, intricate works all over his arms.
The man's face, though…
He was sharp, with a hooked nose, high cheekbones, and the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He had a scruff going on, which suited him. He looked slightly mad, angry, frowning at her as if she were an inconvenience he couldn't understand. Everything about him screamed military and old, and Emma couldn't look away. He was intimidating, and there was something about him that made her feel safe around him. But… just because he looked military didn’t mean he was one. She was observant, and her instincts about people were rarely wrong. Her own life acted like a mirror, forcing her to stop judging people by their covers.
Emma’s lips dropped open, her heart stuttered as the man turned to walk away, and she blurted out, “Nice boy!” The man paused and slowly turned to pin her on the spot with a glare. She flushed and said, “I meant, nice dog!” she stuttered out. “Very well behaved.”
“Samson,” the man said. His voice was rough and deep, as if he hadn't used it for a while.
“I'm sorry?” she asked, bewildered.
“The dog. Name's Samson.”
“Oh! That suits him!” she enthused, smiling at Samson, who was still looking up at his owner. “Nice to meet you, Sammy! I'm Emma.”
“Samson,” the man repeated, his frown deepening as he stared at Emma. The dog huffed. The man glanced down at him and gave one sharp nod to Samson. He was released from his position. He was back right by Emma's side, on the ground again, like before.
“You're such a good boy,” Emma sweetly talked to the dog, and he lolled his head to the side as Emma petted him. His tail was thumping on the grass as if this was the best thing he'd ever received today. “Who's a good boy? Yes, you are, Sammy.”
The man shifted from one foot to the other as he watched her pet his dog. Soon enough, Samson got his fill of her petting him, and then he was back to his owner. He went around his legs and sat on his haunches, right by his owner's legs. The man had his arms crossed over his chest as he observed the scene before him. His face was a blank slate, and he was staring at her with such intensity that Emma had thought he was going to bite her. But before she could say anything else, a wave, or a word, or something, the man had turned away from her and walked away with Samson close by his leg, without a look behind his back.
Emma stuttered out a breath as she stared at them, and felt oddly out of place. Even more so than before. She was wearing a light sweater, even though it was almost summertime; the field was cold for her. She hesitated before she took it off, revealing her white tank top. The cold air hit her flushed skin, and she was covered in goosebumps in seconds. A couple of people who walked past her stared at her, and she gave them a polite smile. It was more of a purse of her lips than an actual smile, but nevertheless.
She groaned internally. She really was out of her element here. Her phone buzzed with a message again. She checked it and saw it was from Dennis.
Dennis: R u ok?
Emma: Yes! Found a tree, and I’m sitting there.
Dennis: 👍
Emma: Having fun??
Dennis: 🎆🎆🎆
Emma giggled at the message, then, with dread, realized that she had multiple messages from Will. She sighed and dropped her phone back into her lap as she stared at the light show on stage. She had to end things with Will, didn’t she? She wasn’t going to be the woman he’d want for himself.
Not in the way he wanted for his future to look anyway.
Will: you can't keep ignoring me
Will: please babe let's talk
Will: I can't leave without knowing that we are going to be okay
Emma's phone kept blasting off with text messages from her boyfriend. She was standing by Dennis’ car, waiting for him and Robby so they could go home. Dennis had texted her from somewhere in the crowd, and they had agreed on this spot. It would be much easier to find each other like this than to go around the festival’s field. She sighed as she leaned against the car, hiding behind a big black truck to avoid prying eyes.
Emma wasn’t going to drop everything for her boyfriend’s new job and move to another state just because of it. And she certainly didn’t want to do a long-distance relationship. She liked being physically close to her partners. She wasn’t built for that type of relationship, and he knew that. And yet he kept pushing that on her, since she didn’t want to quit everything and follow his dreams.
Emma: you ended the phone call and now you're begging me to talk to you?
Emma: really, Will? I don't have the patience for this right now.
The response came back almost instantly.
Will: Because you weren't listening!!!
Will: Babe, listen, I'm not going to leave you, okay? We're not going to break up.
Emma: my decision is final.
Will: So what you're saying is that you're gonna break up with me over this???
Emma: We are not finding common ground, so yes.
Will: Babe, you know I’m going to make really good money with this job. Why can’t you just get it through your thick skull?
She stared at her phone, at his last message, and shook her head. Emma locked her phone and threw it into her bag as she looked around. People were slowly making their way to their cars and leaving the parking lot. It was going to get so stuffy, and traffic was going to be hell to get home. But as long as she didn’t have to drive, she was fine with it. And thankfully, she didn’t have to. Dennis’ car was old, and she felt nervous driving it. Robby had told him he’d buy him a new car as soon as he graduated from med school, and Dennis had rolled his eyes. But Emma knew that Robby wasn’t kidding, and truth to be told, she was glad for it.
Dennis’ car was a death trap. And she was surprised that Robby had agreed to take his car. She wondered how Dennis had persuaded him to agree, and then quickly banished that thought.
Emma shook her head, the last lingering embers of her feelings for Will finally dying out. He’d gone from encouraging her nursing career to treating it like an inconvenient hobby the moment it threatened his ego. She was done making herself smaller just to keep him comfortable.
Emma's eyes sprang with tears, and she hastily wiped them from her face. She was trying to calm down before Dennis found her by his car, but she couldn't. Her chest rattled with the unrestrained need to cry. She placed both of her hands on her face and breathed in and out, trying to calm down. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Tonight was supposed to be fun, freeing, and filled with laughter. Instead, she was standing in the parking lot, at a metal music festival, crying over a boy who was choosing things for himself, rather than having a civil conversation about what they could do together.
It was getting darker outside. The truck she was hiding behind unlocked with a beep, and Emma jumped away from it, slightly. She turned her back on it and covered her mouth, her tears coating her fingers as she cried silently.
Emma felt a presence beside her. Turning, she found the same dog from earlier sitting ramrod straight, staring up at her.
“Samson?” she whispered, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Samson whined, huffing, his paws clicking on the asphalt as he looked at her sharply. “Where's your owner?”
“Right here,” the man materialized behind her, out of nowhere, and she jumped around to stare up at him. This close, she realized just how much taller he was. And just how much bigger he was than what she'd previously perceived him to be. He was frowning down at her again, his eyes tracking the tears falling from her eyes.
“Sorry,” she sniffed, wiping her face with the back of her hand. “Sorry, I didn't realize you were here. And this is your truck, obviously. I'll just move to the other side, and-”
“Are you hurt?”
And maybe it was because a stranger was asking her, or maybe it was a man who looked like an immovable wall, and didn't say more than 3 words a sentence, or just maybe the whole night was a big shitshow, but she let out the whimper-sob that she had been holding back all night, and finally let herself cry.
He looked alarmed and looked around himself, as if he was trying to find somebody else to take his place, or was he just uncomfortable? She wasn't sure, but Samson whined behind her again, and the man stepped closer to her. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice urgent and rough, looking at her body, as if he were trying to find the source of her tears.
Emma shook her head. “No, no. I'm fine. It's just.” And then she couldn't hold herself back and just spilled everything to this stranger, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. “My boyfriend is breaking up with me for some stupid job that he had taken. In another state! And he just wants me to drop everything and go with him. As if I'm free, and I don't have dreams to fulfill on my own. I mean, who does that?” she said, trying to keep her voice level. “Who does he think he is?” she asked this stranger, as if he knew either of them. He just stood there, and then he leaned against the car next to them and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Well, sounds like he's your boyfriend who doesn't want to lose you.”
Emma looked up at him, with her mouth hanging open in an unattractive way, her mind screeching to a stop. And then she shook her head and said, “Don't you think he'll need to talk to me about it first before he makes decisions about our future?”
He shrugged and looked at Dennis’ car, his lip curling. “That's a death trap, by the way,” he commented, offhandedly, pointing at the car, as if she had asked for his opinion. Then he looked at her, pinning her on the spot. “How old are you, kid? Early 20s?” he asked, and didn't wait for her answer before he continued, “Look, if this is your first boy-related issue, let him go. His loss, anyway.”
And then he walked around the big truck that he was leaning against and got into it, without waiting for Emma's input. “On me,” he said loudly, just as the truck roared to life and Samson bolted to the back of the truck and jumped high into the trunk. The man peeled out of the parking spot and drove away, as if he hadn't just said the most unhinged shit Emma had ever heard from a stranger before.
She stood there for a moment, stared at the spot where the truck had been, and then shook her head. He didn’t know who Emma was or who Will was. Why did he even say that? Well, you did just complain to a stranger about your current situation, she thought to herself.
Emma sucked in a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “Okay, enough,” she whispered to herself and shook her head. She grabbed her phone and opened the front camera to fix herself a bit before Dennis and Robby showed up. Thankfully, she had skipped on too much make-up today and decided on something simple. She realized that she could do this now, when she’d finalized her breakup with Will. He was still texting her, and she didn’t even bother checking her messages because there wasn’t anything she wanted to say right now.
Right now, she wanted to have some food with her bestie, take a bath, and then sleep. That’s all she wanted to do.
By the time they managed to get home, it was close to midnight. Grateful to be at home with takeout, Emma sat on the couch with her food and placed her feet in Dennis’ lap as she ate. They dropped Robby off at his house since he had an early shift, and Emma had to look away when Dennis got out of the car and kissed him goodnight. She kept drawing parallels between them and her relationship. It wasn't fair to her, truly. Not because they were happier, but because she never allowed herself to make any comparisons between everyone around her.
“You know, you're doing the right thing,” Dennis said to her. “Breaking things off with him. I mean, he's a good guy who wants what he wants, but I genuinely think you guys aren't meant to be.”
“Where was this months ago when everything started going downhill?” Emma asked him, her voice full of astonishment.
“I don't know,” Dennis said with a shrug. “I just didn't want to overstep.”
Emma stared at him for a moment before she reminded him. “Dennis, honey, you pulled out a freaking tampon out of my vagina because it got stuck.”
“Yeah, yep. Don't remind me,” Dennis said with a shake of his head and a laugh. Emma grinned at him, and they sat there quietly, eating their food, before she asked.
“But seriously, am I crazy for breaking up with him over this?”
“Honestly? No,” Dennis said firmly. “He wants to wife you up and doesn't even respect the fact that you're just now starting your career path. Have you guys ever discussed the future?”
“Yeah,” Emma nodded, and then added. “As in, what we wanted to eat, and not if I'm planning on having red roses or lilies at my wedding.”
“Lilies, right?”
“Yep.”
“Well, babes, call him tomorrow and talk to him. Either in person, on neutral ground, or over the phone, just tell him what you want, and if he still won't listen to you and won't respect you, then you have your answers.”
“I know,” Emma sighed as she got up and threw out the containers. “It's just…I hate how I didn't see this coming, you know?”
Dennis nodded. “I know what you mean. He was a good guy, I think. But I guess he wasn't a good boyfriend for you?” He said, sounding hesitant. And Emma just stared at him for a moment, unsure of what to say.
When they parted ways to their respective bedrooms, Emma lay down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. She looked around her room, appreciating the chaos. She had a full-sized bed, with soft cream-colored bedsheets. She enjoyed crocheting, so her desk was mostly covered with half-finished projects she simply didn't have time to either complete or was too agitated to concentrate on. Her study books were strewn all over her bedroom. On her desk, her dresser, under her bed, by the walls. She had a walk-in closet bursting at the seams; she had too many clothes in there. No matter how much stuff she got rid of, something else took its place.
She couldn't leave this behind. Could she?
Emma had a life here. Albeit, she could start a new life in another state, sure, but… She loved it here. She left Michigan when she turned 18, and now she was starting her new job in PTMC. She was excited about it, and she didn't want to quit just because of her boyfriend.
Emma sighed and grabbed her phone. There were too many messages from Will, but she ignored them all to send a simple one.
Emma: I'm going to sleep now. Let's meet up tomorrow and talk about this, civilly. I hope we'll land on something that will benefit us both. Good night.
She locked her phone and placed it on her bedside table. And tried not to think about the fact that for the first time in a long time, she didn't write ‘I love you’ to him.