“I’d probably deserve it,” he says, shrugging and looking me up and down. I can’t read anything on his face, only that he’s no longer angry. “Don’t go, Emma. Please.” He sounds so sincere. It’s so unexpected that it causes a lump to catch in my throat.  

“I haven’t decided on anything, Jake. I need space to think, not you charging in here yelling at me and ordering me around. I need time to figure things out,” I respond firmly, watching him, aching for ...