It had occurred to Spencer sometime during the weekend that Emily's texts had been... unusual. Even more unusual had been the fact that she'd never responded to the one he'd sent back, asking whether she'd be at the Inn & Lodge for the annual wine festival. It's been nagging at him since Sunday morning but he'd let himself get caught up in being away, in being with Joel. He'd studied the texts again in the cab back this morning but when Joel had asked what he was so focused on, he'd only smiled and tucked his phone back in his pocket before leaning in to give the other man a kiss.
He regrets it now. He regrets it because he sees her sitting outside the cafe he'd been headed toward because he needs a wake-up call after such a lovely, lazy weekend and she's got crutches. There are tears streaming down her face, and she's got crutches, and Spencer is frozen in place a few yards away because the realization that he should have trusted his instinct is far too overwhelming right now.
When he finally manages to move again, he moves straight for her--cautious, slow because no matter what had happened, Spencer knows well enough from his own experience, from the reason his left hand is still in a cast and his face is still looking battered and bruised, that being crowded when in an emotional state like this is often more harmful than helpful. He stops a foot away from her, close enough for their shadows to cross, and sees the hospital wear and the blood on her hoodie.
His jaw drops a little as he drops more than lowers himself to a kneeling position, unable to keep his eyes off her hurt foot. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, bringing his good hand to his uninjured temple. "Emily, I'm so sorry."
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He regrets it now. He regrets it because he sees her sitting outside the cafe he'd been headed toward because he needs a wake-up call after such a lovely, lazy weekend and she's got crutches. There are tears streaming down her face, and she's got crutches, and Spencer is frozen in place a few yards away because the realization that he should have trusted his instinct is far too overwhelming right now.
When he finally manages to move again, he moves straight for her--cautious, slow because no matter what had happened, Spencer knows well enough from his own experience, from the reason his left hand is still in a cast and his face is still looking battered and bruised, that being crowded when in an emotional state like this is often more harmful than helpful. He stops a foot away from her, close enough for their shadows to cross, and sees the hospital wear and the blood on her hoodie.
His jaw drops a little as he drops more than lowers himself to a kneeling position, unable to keep his eyes off her hurt foot. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, bringing his good hand to his uninjured temple. "Emily, I'm so sorry."