Unbroken (22 page)

His words slip under my defenses with a shiver of truth. I want to defend Emerson, but with nothing but his voicemail as comfort all day, I don’t know what to say.

“I’m just saying, the girl I knew wouldn’t take this crap from anyone.” Daniel adds, pushing it. “You had a plan, a whole vision of what you wanted your life to be. What happened to all those plans? Don’t just throw all of that away.”

“I’m not throwing it away,” I protest, “I’m just… thinking things over.”

“So where is he?” Daniel challenges. “While you’re doing all this thinking.”

“I don’t know.” I reply in a quiet voice.

“Are you going to stay here?” Daniel continues. “What about college, and finals, and jobs?”

“I don’t know, OK!” My cry echoes in the house. I fold my arms defensively, feeling cornered by his questions. “I was going to move to DC with you,” I point out. “How is this any different?”

“We made that decision together.” Daniel tells me with a blunt look. “We talked about it, weighed up all the options—for the both of us. Come on, you know I’m right.”

I look down, playing with the frayed edge of the blanket. Daniel is talking sense, but the disappointment of waking up this morning is still an open wound, raw and bloody. I don’t know if I’m ready to hear this.

Daniel sighs. “Just let me ask you one thing, OK?”

I look back, and reluctantly nod.

“If this love is as epic as you say it is—for him, not just you,” he adds quickly. “Then were the hell is he?”

The question sits between us, laid out on the bare hardwood floors. All my worst fears and insecurities given a voice, and harder still, a look of painful sympathy staring back at me from Daniel’s concerned gaze.

I cringe. The worst part is, he’s right. He’s just asking me the same question I’ve been asking myself, ever since I woke up alone this morning.
Why
isn’t Emerson here with me?

“It’s OK,” Daniel says quickly, as if he can tell his innocent questions have paralyzed me. “Let’s get started loading things onto the truck. You have boxes of stuff you want to take back to the city?”

I nod, finally finding my voice. “I marked everything, keep or trash, or donate.”

“That’s more like it,” Daniel gives me an affectionate smile. “I’ll go take a look in the kitchen.”

He leaves me alone, swathed in the warm blanket and my own wretched emotions. I know I must look like a stranger to him: the girl who always had a plan, fallen apart so completely.

But he’s right. This isn’t like me, to sit around. I need to do something—it doesn’t matter what, just
something
to stop me crumpling here in the aching grip of old memories. Before I can reconsider, I grab a roll of trash bags and a couple of packing cartons, and climb the stairs to the first floor. I walk briskly down the hallway, and push open the door to my mom’s room. It sits, quiet in the afternoon, a faint sheen of dust covering every surface. Untouched for years.

I take a deep breath, then I set to work: clearing the bedside tables and emptying the dresser; packing the pink rose quilt away, and stuffing old clothing into the refuse sacks. I can hear Daniel banging around downstairs, and see glimpses of him as he hauls stuff out to the truck, but he doesn’t come bother me up here, and I don’t ask for help.

This, I have to do alone.

A life is dismantled under my hands, years of memories. I work until the room is stripped bare and I’m standing in the place where my mom used to live. But she’s not here anymore. Somehow, the ghosts have been packed quietly away.

“Goodbye, mom,” I whisper softly.

I hear the sound of an engine outside, and check out the window to see if Daniel is taking the first load out to Goodwill. But instead, I see Emerson’s truck pull in across the driveway.

I freeze, watching with my heart in my throat as he climbs down, slamming the door. The sky is overcast now, grey clouds blowing in fast from the ocean as Emerson strides towards the house.

Daniel goes out to meet him, and through the open window, I can hear every word.

“Where is she?” Emerson demands. He’s wearing the same clothes from last night, but rumpled and disheveled now, as if he just threw them on in the morning when he left.

When he ran out on you.

I know I should hate him right now, but looking down through the window, my stomach twists with longing. To have those muscular arms around me, feel the weight of his solid torso bearing down on me.

Emerson makes to move towards the porch, but Daniel blocks his way. “Woah,” Daniel puts his hands up. “Back off. You’re not coming in.”

Even from up here, I can see Emerson’s whole body tense. “Who the fuck are you?”

“A friend.” Daniel stands firm. “And you don’t just get to show up when it suits you. She’s not in a state to talk right now, she’ll let you know if she wants to see you.”

There’s a pause, then Emerson gives a short, bitter laugh. “It’s you, isn’t it?” he says. “The boyfriend. You think you can come take her back with you, is that it?” He backs up and yells again, “Jules, where are you?”

Emerson glances up at the house.

I duck back, out of the window, my heart pounding like crazy in my ears. But it’s too late. He’s seen me.

“Jules?” Emerson’s voice yells up. “Get down here, I need to talk to you!”

My pulse races. I hear Daniel’s voice, low and calm. “I told you, you need to leave her alone right now.”

“Get out of my fucking way!” Emerson’s voice is threatening, and I don’t think for a minute he won’t follow through.

Shit.

I waver another moment, hidden in the shadows of the room, then race for the stairs. I thunder downstairs, breathless, and burst out of the front door onto the porch just in time to see Emerson take a swing at Daniel, his fist connecting in a sharp right hook that sends Daniel stumbling back on the lawn.

“Emerson!” I scream in panic, tearing the screen door open. “Stop it!”

But Emerson ignores me. He lunges forwards, grabbing at the front of Daniel’s shirt, but this time, Daniel is ready for him. He bends over and slams his head into Emerson’s stomach, getting him in a wrestling hold and pulling him to the ground.

I race over. “Stop it, both of you!” I cry, desperate. “Please!” But they ignore me, rolling on the ground, grappling for the upper hand. Daniel was on the wrestling team for years, but his finesse is nothing compared to Emerson’s brute power. His powerful back muscles ripple as he easily evades Daniel’s pin and flips on top.

“You should have stayed away!” Emerson grounds out. I watch, horrified, as he lands another ugly punch in Daniel’s stomach, pinning him down and raising his fist again ready to smash it in Daniel’s face. “She’ll never be yours!”

“Emerson!” I scream, lunging forwards. I launch myself at him, grasping on tight to pin his arms down, but Emerson shakes me off. I stumble back, tripping on the uneven lawn, and fall to the ground.

My head hits with a painful crack, and I cry out.

In an instant, Emerson releases Daniel and falls to his knees at my side. “Jules!” He gasps, cradling me, “Fuck, I’m sorry, are you OK?”

I slowly pull myself into a seating position. My head is still ringing from the impact, pain blossoming out through my skull.

“Jules? Talk to me, are you OK?” Emerson’s voice breaks with panic.

I look up. He’s got a bloody nose from where Daniel got in a punch, and his eyes are still fevered with the fight, his breath coming fast. He reaches out to gently cup my cheek, turning my head from side to side to check for cuts.

“Don’t touch her!” Daniel struggles up from the ground, looking red-faced and disheveled.

“It’s OK,” I manage, “I’m fine.”

Emerson’s face is stricken, dark eyes full of anguish. “I wasn’t thinking. I would never… Jules, you know I would never hurt you!”

I nod, and squeeze his hand. “I know.”

The irony rings in my ears. Of course Emerson would never knowingly lay a hand on me, but hurt me?

It’s way too late for that.

The two of them take my arms, and slowly help me to my feet. “I’m fine,” I say again, embarrassed by the fuss. “Really, it was just a fall.”

Daniel turns on Emerson, furious. “Is this what you want?” He yells, voice rising. I look at him in shock. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Daniel so angry. “What the hell are you even doing here?” He demands, getting up in Emerson’s face. “Can’t you see, you bring her nothing but pain?”

“It’s OK, Daniel.” I interrupt him, stepping between them before someone can throw another punch. “Go inside a minute.”

Daniel shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

I expect Emerson to lunge at him again, but he drops my arm, and paces back and forth by the truck. I turn back to Daniel.

“Trust me,” I say, imploring him. “Please? I need to do this.”

Daniel glares at Emerson again, fierce enough to peel his skin back, but eventually, he nods. “I’ll be right inside,” he says loudly. “And if he so much as raises his voice…”

“Thank you.” I exhale, relieved.

Daniel goes inside again, and I wait until the door closes before turning back to Emerson. He’s still pacing, his dark head lowered, fists flexing and clenching at his sides.

My emotions are churning in a whirlwind of fear, and doubt, and hope, and insecurity—everything bound up in this one moment, right here. But as I look at him, I feel a strange sense of strength. I can do this, I need to know what the hell’s going on.

“Well?”

When I speak, I’m surprised to hear my voice come out bold and even. I fold my arms, waiting. “What is it you came here to say to me?”

Emerson lifts his head. “I… I fucked up.”

I tremble at the misery in his expression, a deep ache in his eyes. But I force myself to stand firm.

“Which part, exactly?” I demand, my voice steely. “The part where you run off this morning and leave to wake up alone? The part where you lie, and make up some reason for bailing? Or the part where I have to walk back all the way home like some stupid whore who was stupid enough to think that last night actually meant something?”

Emerson flinches. “It did!”

“Really?” I shoot back, my voice quaking now. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way to me. Fuck,” I swear, feeling the familiar sting of tears in the back of my throat. In an instant, all my resolve crumbles. I don’t want to be here yelling at him, I just want everything to be OK.

“I don’t know what to say to you!” I beg. I reach for him, but Emerson strides away, his back turned. “Please, talk to me. What the hell is going on in that messed-up head of yours? Because I’ve tried to be patient, and trust that everything will work itself out, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t feel like this all over again!”

“You can’t?” Emerson turns on me with a bark. He gestures angrily towards the house. “How do you think I feel? I’m gone for a few hours, and you go running right back to him!”

“What? No!” I cry, confused. “Daniel isn’t… I didn’t call him here.”

“But you didn’t send him away either.” Emerson’s face is grim: closed off and remote, like all his defenses have snapped back down. The distance in his eyes sends a chill right through me. “I guess it was all bullshit, huh? All that stuff about being broken up with him. You always knew he was the one you’d choose!”

“Stop it!” I yell, “Don’t make this about him. He’s just trying to help.”

“Sure he is,” Emerson drawls cruelly. “I guess his money helps too, and his fancy college degree. I shouldn’t be surprised. What was that you said to me, how I’m just like my parents?” Emerson adds, and in a flash, I remember our final fight again, and all the terrible things we said.

“I didn’t mean it,” I whisper.

“Sure you did, and you’re right!” Emerson yells. “Just look at me, I’m nothing. I’ll always be nothing. It’s why you picked him, isn’t it? I’ll never be good enough for you!”

I reel back like I’ve been slapped. “Is that why you left me this morning?” I demand, suddenly furious. “Do you really think that little of me?”

“I call it like I see it,” Emerson tells me with a cruel smirk. “You picked right, with that guy. You belong with him.”

“But I don’t want Daniel!” I scream, trying to break through his icy demeanor. “I want you!”

My voice echoes through the yard, out through the trees and dunes, and the tall grasses that bob and bend as the sharp breeze whips around us. I stand there, shaking, in agony. If he could only listen to me! If he would only understand!

But Emerson doesn’t flinch, and when he looks back at me, his eyes are dead behind those velvet lashes, so cold in the way I’ve only ever seen once before.

The last time he left me.

A storm of emotion comes crashing around me, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. “You’re doing it again,” I whisper, gripped with a dread so cold I can’t feel my arms or legs. “You’re ending it.”

Emerson’s jaw is clenched with tension, but his posture is casual. I think I see something flash in his eyes, but then his face is set again. Determined. He gives a shrug, so relaxed that it breaks my heart clean in two.