Unafraid
Page 27
I’m going to make that girl see, she’s the only one for me. My light, my heart, my everything.
Forever.
I drive around the city in a sobbing, wretched mess. I can’t go back to Beachwood right now, not when my heart is broken in a million pieces and every street holds a memory of him. The thought of being back in that house—on the porch where he kissed me, in the rooms we talked and laughed—is too much for me to bear. I don’t know what to do, so I go the only place I can think of, the one place I’ll always be safe.
My brother.
“Brit?” Juliet opens the door and gasps, finding me dazed on her doorstep, so heartbroken I can barely stand straight. “Oh God, Brit, what happened?”
“It’s over,” I whisper helplessly. “He’s gone.”
The grief has finally left me, now I’m nothing but numb and dizzy and aching, the pain in my chest threatening to consume me completely. I meet her eyes with empty desperation. “I wasn’t enough for him, I’m never good enough to make them stay.”
“Shhh!” Juliet pulls me into a hug, stroking my hair softly, then guides me into their apartment. I follow blindly, letting her settle me on the couch, draping a blanket around my shoulders. “Emerson will be back soon,” she soothes me. “Can I get you a drink? Some tea. Tell me what you need.”
“Hunter,” I hiccup, a fresh wave of tears slipping free. “He’s all I ever need.”
Juliet presses her lips together. “OK then, whiskey it is.”
She fetches a bottle and pours me a shot. I knock it back without flinching, and take another. I hold my glass out for more.
Juliet wavers.
“I can’t take it,” I tell her, pleading. “Please, just make the pain go away.”
“Oh, baby,” Juliet puts the bottle aside, and pulls me against her instead, nestling my head against her shoulder, her arm around me. “I’m sorry, but the only thing that helps is time.”
I stay there, crying against her, replaying every terrible word from the fight. The sight of Hunter with Alicia, the smug victory in Camille’s smile. And the worst thing of all: the moment I realized Hunter wasn’t coming back to me. That he’d made his choice, and I didn’t belong in his life anymore.
I cry for what feels like forever, but my body can only take so much. Slowly, the sobs fade away, leaving nothing but an emptiness behind my ribcage and a sharp ache in my head.
“Better?” Juliet asks softly, when I finally stop.
I nod, sniffling. She finds me a box of tissues, and gets up. “I’ll make you that tea.”
She bustles off to the kitchen, leaving me in the bright, sunny living room. I look around for the first time, noting the fresh paint on the window frames, and new photos framed on the wall. They’ve only been living here a couple of months, but already, it feels like a home. I can hear traffic on the street below through the open windows, and in the kitchen, the radio is playing a country station Juliet loves.
A sound comes, a key in the door. “Brit?” Emerson calls, striding into the room. Juliet must have texted to tell him what’s going on. He sees me, curled up on the couch, and his face changes, his dark eyes full of concern. “Oh, Brit.”
I hold out my arms like I’m a little kid again, and just like he always did, Emerson comes and lifts me into a bear-hug. I grip him tight, wishing we were back in time again, and all I was crying over was some bullies at school, or my favorite dress getting ripped. Emerson could always make it right: finding a way to mend the tear, or go beat the hell out of the boys in school.
“I’ll kill him.” He curses through a clenched jaw, pulling back to look at my face. “I swear, I’ll f**king kill him.”
I shake my head. “No, please, it won’t help. You can’t fix this.”
Emerson scowls. “I can fix that pretty-boy face of his.”
“Emerson, no!” I protest louder. “It won’t, it won’t make any difference. Promise me you won’t hurt him,” I beg, seeing murder in his eyes. “Please, Emerson, promise.”
“Give me one good reason why not.” Emerson folds his arms.
“Because I love him.”
My words sit quietly between us, and after a long beat, Emerson exhales. “Aw, hell.” He shakes his head, wrapping me in another quick hug as Juliet comes back in with a tray of tea and cookies.
“Are you sure this isn’t some big mix-up?” she asks hopefully, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “Maybe if you both cool down, and have a chance to talk—”
“There’s no point.” I stop her, before she can pull me into her fantasies where everything really does work out in the end. “No matter what he says, it won’t change a thing. This is what always happens,” I explain, broken and ashamed. “There’s something wrong with me. I’m just not good enough for them to love. I never have been. They always leave in the end. Hunter, Mom, Dad…”
I see Emerson and Juliet exchange a look over my head.
“I have to pick up some prints from the lab,” Juliet says quickly. “You guys talk, and then I’ll be back to make dinner. I’ll make up the spare room, and you can sleep here.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, not wanting to impose. “You don’t need to—”
“You’re staying,” Juliet says firmly. “I’ll pick up some groceries while I’m out. We can make your favorite, lasagna.” She gives me a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek, then Emerson walks with her to the door. They talk quietly for a moment, then he leans down to kiss her goodbye. It’s a brief embrace, their lips barely touching, but the love between them is clear, so strong, it makes my heart ache all over again.
I want it, so bad. What I thought I had with Hunter. What my brother shares with Juliet. That. That forever, all-in, everything kind of love.
Emerson sees her out, then comes to sit beside me on the couch. “So, kid…” he sighs, pulling my legs up over his lap. “Start at the beginning.”
I tell him everything, curled on the couch in the afternoon sun. Emerson listens without saying a word, as I share the story of how I was foolish enough to think it could be different this time. When I finish, I take a breath, looking around the apartment, and my brother, in the middle of it all, finally at peace.
“You really did it,” I tell him, full of wistful pride. “You got out, you made it.”
“It wasn’t easy.” Emerson replies. “Trusting Juliet, forgiving each other for our mistakes, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But that’s life, Brit. That’s love. You have to figure out what you want and then fight like hell. Because it’s never easy, not when your heart’s on the line. You get hurt, and angry, and scared as hell.”
“So how do you do it?” I ask, desperate. “How can you tell it’s worth the price?”
Emerson looks at me with certainty in his smile. “You just know. You know it like you know your own name. It’s a part of you, it’s who you are: loving them.” He looks away, suddenly bashful, but his words echo through me.
Hunter.
“Loving him was so easy,” I find myself telling Emerson. “I didn’t even see it when I fell. My brain was making up so many reasons for us not to be together, but my heart just went right ahead and did it anyway.”
Emerson grins at me. “Like me and Jules. I fought it kicking and screaming, but man, I was done from the very first moment we met.”
I swallow back a swell of tears. I’m glad Emerson got his happy ending, I truly am. Nobody deserves it more than him. But it just reminds me that I didn’t. Hunter isn’t mine to have and to hold, I’m still in this world alone. And I probably always will be.
“I don’t know what I can do,” I whisper helplessly, my darkest fears slipping through this cocoon of warm belonging. I feel an ache, the same wretched pain I’ve carried my whole life. “What is it about me that makes them leave?”
“It’s got nothing to do with you,” Emerson objects, but I shake my head.
“There’s no point denying it. God, Em, just look around. Mom couldn’t wait to get away from us, and Dad… I never even got to know him. He was already gone.” I look down, shredding my tissue into a dozen tiny pieces. “I guess I know now, I’ll never be enough to make them stay.”
“Bullshit.” Emerson leans forwards, gripping my hand. “You deserve to be happy, more than anyone I know. Some people just aren’t cut out to be parents is all, but that doesn’t mean we’re doomed to pay for their mistakes. We can do it differently.”
I look up, my mouth drops open. “Does this mean… You, and Juliet--?”
“What? No! We’re not even married yet,” Emerson says, but he can’t hide his grin. “But that doesn’t mean we haven’t talked about it. Not now, but later, one day. You can have the life you want, Brit,” he adds, “Trust me on that.”
I shake my head. “I just can’t help thinking, there’s some reason. That if I try harder, or act better, then they’d stay.” I swallow. “When I was little, I used to tidy my room. Do you remember? I was obsessive about it.”
“I remember,” Emerson smiles. “You were so crazy about everything else, I could never figure it out.”
“I thought, if I kept it neat enough, if I was good, then Dad would come back.” I whisper my confession, avoiding Emerson’s eyes. “It was all I wanted, to be like the other kids. They had fathers who loved them, they took it for granted, every day. But he never came back. And then when Mom started using… That’s when I gave up.” I shrug, remembering my teenage decision, the freedom I finally felt. “I figured if I couldn’t be good enough to make him stay, then I wouldn’t bother with being good at all.”
Emerson squeezes my hand.
I snap out of it. “I just… I can’t help thinking it’s me. If I knew what happened with dad, if I had some answers, maybe I could understand why he left…” I stop, and shake my head, self-conscious. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling on, I know. This is probably the last thing you need, dragging up the past.”
“Sometimes it can be good.” Emerson says quietly. “Sometimes the only way to move on is to face your past.”
He looks at me a long moment, then gets up and moves to the bureau. He opens a drawer and takes out a slip of paper, coming to sit back down on the couch. Emerson looks at the paper for a long moment, then passes it to me.
I stare at the page.
James Ray. There’s an address too, scribbled under the name.
“Dad?” I breathe, shock rushing through me.
Emerson nods. “Ray Jay found him, a few months back. I didn’t know if you wanted to let sleeping dogs lie. But now, I figure…” He trails off, still looking at me like he’s not sure if I’m going to break down again. If this is the final straw to send me over the edge.
I stare at the paper in my hand. “The address, it’s close,” I realize. I look over at Emerson. “This is less than an hour away.”
He looks sympathetic.
“He was here,” I breathe. “All this time. And he never…”
I stop.
He never came to see how I was; never even cared enough to call.
“It’s up to you what you do with it.” Emerson sighs. “I don’t know what shape he’s in, or if he’ll have any answers for you. And maybe you shouldn’t even try—”
“I’m going.” I leap to my feet.
“What, now? Brit, wait a minute,” Emerson tries to calm me, but for the first time since this mess with Hunter, I have a sense of clarity—some calm cutting through the terrible ache in my chest.
“No, I need to talk to him,” I insist, reaching for my purse. “You’re right. I need answers. I need to face the past.”
“At least think about it,” Emerson follows me across the room. “Sleep on it, maybe when you’ve had time—”
“No,” I stop him. “I have to do this now. I’ll be back before dinner,” I add. “I promise, I’ll be OK.”
Emerson doesn’t look convinced, but he can’t stop me, and he knows it. “Be careful,” he murmurs, “We don’t know what he’s into these days. He could have done time, been mixed up in all kinds of stuff.”
“I know,” I reassure him. “Believe me, I’m not expecting daddy dearest to come meet me with open arms. I just want to talk to him.”
Emerson nods. “Call me the minute you need, and I’ll be there, you know that, right?”
“I know.” I smile at him. “Love you.”
“Love you right back.”
I drive fast, flirting with the speed limit as I head out to the address on that scribbled sheet of paper. I clench the steering wheel, my thoughts in a whirl, a million questions running around in my mind. Like why he left, what made him turn around and walk away from his family, his own flesh-and-blood? Did he think of me the way I thought about him when I was younger, watching other kids in school get picked up by their fathers, safe in a world of belonging I could only dream about?
One thing’s for sure, I need answers from him if I’m ever going to be free. I want so desperately to break this damn cycle I’m in, feeling so worthless that I can’t believe anything good will ever last. I pushed Hunter, I know it, but I can’t help myself. I’m always waiting for the house of cards to tumble and fall, for every moment of happiness to crumble into ash. It was the first thing I ever learned, what if feels like to be left, and that knowledge has colored every day of my life since.
Forever.
I drive around the city in a sobbing, wretched mess. I can’t go back to Beachwood right now, not when my heart is broken in a million pieces and every street holds a memory of him. The thought of being back in that house—on the porch where he kissed me, in the rooms we talked and laughed—is too much for me to bear. I don’t know what to do, so I go the only place I can think of, the one place I’ll always be safe.
My brother.
“Brit?” Juliet opens the door and gasps, finding me dazed on her doorstep, so heartbroken I can barely stand straight. “Oh God, Brit, what happened?”
“It’s over,” I whisper helplessly. “He’s gone.”
The grief has finally left me, now I’m nothing but numb and dizzy and aching, the pain in my chest threatening to consume me completely. I meet her eyes with empty desperation. “I wasn’t enough for him, I’m never good enough to make them stay.”
“Shhh!” Juliet pulls me into a hug, stroking my hair softly, then guides me into their apartment. I follow blindly, letting her settle me on the couch, draping a blanket around my shoulders. “Emerson will be back soon,” she soothes me. “Can I get you a drink? Some tea. Tell me what you need.”
“Hunter,” I hiccup, a fresh wave of tears slipping free. “He’s all I ever need.”
Juliet presses her lips together. “OK then, whiskey it is.”
She fetches a bottle and pours me a shot. I knock it back without flinching, and take another. I hold my glass out for more.
Juliet wavers.
“I can’t take it,” I tell her, pleading. “Please, just make the pain go away.”
“Oh, baby,” Juliet puts the bottle aside, and pulls me against her instead, nestling my head against her shoulder, her arm around me. “I’m sorry, but the only thing that helps is time.”
I stay there, crying against her, replaying every terrible word from the fight. The sight of Hunter with Alicia, the smug victory in Camille’s smile. And the worst thing of all: the moment I realized Hunter wasn’t coming back to me. That he’d made his choice, and I didn’t belong in his life anymore.
I cry for what feels like forever, but my body can only take so much. Slowly, the sobs fade away, leaving nothing but an emptiness behind my ribcage and a sharp ache in my head.
“Better?” Juliet asks softly, when I finally stop.
I nod, sniffling. She finds me a box of tissues, and gets up. “I’ll make you that tea.”
She bustles off to the kitchen, leaving me in the bright, sunny living room. I look around for the first time, noting the fresh paint on the window frames, and new photos framed on the wall. They’ve only been living here a couple of months, but already, it feels like a home. I can hear traffic on the street below through the open windows, and in the kitchen, the radio is playing a country station Juliet loves.
A sound comes, a key in the door. “Brit?” Emerson calls, striding into the room. Juliet must have texted to tell him what’s going on. He sees me, curled up on the couch, and his face changes, his dark eyes full of concern. “Oh, Brit.”
I hold out my arms like I’m a little kid again, and just like he always did, Emerson comes and lifts me into a bear-hug. I grip him tight, wishing we were back in time again, and all I was crying over was some bullies at school, or my favorite dress getting ripped. Emerson could always make it right: finding a way to mend the tear, or go beat the hell out of the boys in school.
“I’ll kill him.” He curses through a clenched jaw, pulling back to look at my face. “I swear, I’ll f**king kill him.”
I shake my head. “No, please, it won’t help. You can’t fix this.”
Emerson scowls. “I can fix that pretty-boy face of his.”
“Emerson, no!” I protest louder. “It won’t, it won’t make any difference. Promise me you won’t hurt him,” I beg, seeing murder in his eyes. “Please, Emerson, promise.”
“Give me one good reason why not.” Emerson folds his arms.
“Because I love him.”
My words sit quietly between us, and after a long beat, Emerson exhales. “Aw, hell.” He shakes his head, wrapping me in another quick hug as Juliet comes back in with a tray of tea and cookies.
“Are you sure this isn’t some big mix-up?” she asks hopefully, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “Maybe if you both cool down, and have a chance to talk—”
“There’s no point.” I stop her, before she can pull me into her fantasies where everything really does work out in the end. “No matter what he says, it won’t change a thing. This is what always happens,” I explain, broken and ashamed. “There’s something wrong with me. I’m just not good enough for them to love. I never have been. They always leave in the end. Hunter, Mom, Dad…”
I see Emerson and Juliet exchange a look over my head.
“I have to pick up some prints from the lab,” Juliet says quickly. “You guys talk, and then I’ll be back to make dinner. I’ll make up the spare room, and you can sleep here.”
“It’s fine,” I reply, not wanting to impose. “You don’t need to—”
“You’re staying,” Juliet says firmly. “I’ll pick up some groceries while I’m out. We can make your favorite, lasagna.” She gives me a warm smile and a kiss on the cheek, then Emerson walks with her to the door. They talk quietly for a moment, then he leans down to kiss her goodbye. It’s a brief embrace, their lips barely touching, but the love between them is clear, so strong, it makes my heart ache all over again.
I want it, so bad. What I thought I had with Hunter. What my brother shares with Juliet. That. That forever, all-in, everything kind of love.
Emerson sees her out, then comes to sit beside me on the couch. “So, kid…” he sighs, pulling my legs up over his lap. “Start at the beginning.”
I tell him everything, curled on the couch in the afternoon sun. Emerson listens without saying a word, as I share the story of how I was foolish enough to think it could be different this time. When I finish, I take a breath, looking around the apartment, and my brother, in the middle of it all, finally at peace.
“You really did it,” I tell him, full of wistful pride. “You got out, you made it.”
“It wasn’t easy.” Emerson replies. “Trusting Juliet, forgiving each other for our mistakes, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But that’s life, Brit. That’s love. You have to figure out what you want and then fight like hell. Because it’s never easy, not when your heart’s on the line. You get hurt, and angry, and scared as hell.”
“So how do you do it?” I ask, desperate. “How can you tell it’s worth the price?”
Emerson looks at me with certainty in his smile. “You just know. You know it like you know your own name. It’s a part of you, it’s who you are: loving them.” He looks away, suddenly bashful, but his words echo through me.
Hunter.
“Loving him was so easy,” I find myself telling Emerson. “I didn’t even see it when I fell. My brain was making up so many reasons for us not to be together, but my heart just went right ahead and did it anyway.”
Emerson grins at me. “Like me and Jules. I fought it kicking and screaming, but man, I was done from the very first moment we met.”
I swallow back a swell of tears. I’m glad Emerson got his happy ending, I truly am. Nobody deserves it more than him. But it just reminds me that I didn’t. Hunter isn’t mine to have and to hold, I’m still in this world alone. And I probably always will be.
“I don’t know what I can do,” I whisper helplessly, my darkest fears slipping through this cocoon of warm belonging. I feel an ache, the same wretched pain I’ve carried my whole life. “What is it about me that makes them leave?”
“It’s got nothing to do with you,” Emerson objects, but I shake my head.
“There’s no point denying it. God, Em, just look around. Mom couldn’t wait to get away from us, and Dad… I never even got to know him. He was already gone.” I look down, shredding my tissue into a dozen tiny pieces. “I guess I know now, I’ll never be enough to make them stay.”
“Bullshit.” Emerson leans forwards, gripping my hand. “You deserve to be happy, more than anyone I know. Some people just aren’t cut out to be parents is all, but that doesn’t mean we’re doomed to pay for their mistakes. We can do it differently.”
I look up, my mouth drops open. “Does this mean… You, and Juliet--?”
“What? No! We’re not even married yet,” Emerson says, but he can’t hide his grin. “But that doesn’t mean we haven’t talked about it. Not now, but later, one day. You can have the life you want, Brit,” he adds, “Trust me on that.”
I shake my head. “I just can’t help thinking, there’s some reason. That if I try harder, or act better, then they’d stay.” I swallow. “When I was little, I used to tidy my room. Do you remember? I was obsessive about it.”
“I remember,” Emerson smiles. “You were so crazy about everything else, I could never figure it out.”
“I thought, if I kept it neat enough, if I was good, then Dad would come back.” I whisper my confession, avoiding Emerson’s eyes. “It was all I wanted, to be like the other kids. They had fathers who loved them, they took it for granted, every day. But he never came back. And then when Mom started using… That’s when I gave up.” I shrug, remembering my teenage decision, the freedom I finally felt. “I figured if I couldn’t be good enough to make him stay, then I wouldn’t bother with being good at all.”
Emerson squeezes my hand.
I snap out of it. “I just… I can’t help thinking it’s me. If I knew what happened with dad, if I had some answers, maybe I could understand why he left…” I stop, and shake my head, self-conscious. “I’m sorry, I’m babbling on, I know. This is probably the last thing you need, dragging up the past.”
“Sometimes it can be good.” Emerson says quietly. “Sometimes the only way to move on is to face your past.”
He looks at me a long moment, then gets up and moves to the bureau. He opens a drawer and takes out a slip of paper, coming to sit back down on the couch. Emerson looks at the paper for a long moment, then passes it to me.
I stare at the page.
James Ray. There’s an address too, scribbled under the name.
“Dad?” I breathe, shock rushing through me.
Emerson nods. “Ray Jay found him, a few months back. I didn’t know if you wanted to let sleeping dogs lie. But now, I figure…” He trails off, still looking at me like he’s not sure if I’m going to break down again. If this is the final straw to send me over the edge.
I stare at the paper in my hand. “The address, it’s close,” I realize. I look over at Emerson. “This is less than an hour away.”
He looks sympathetic.
“He was here,” I breathe. “All this time. And he never…”
I stop.
He never came to see how I was; never even cared enough to call.
“It’s up to you what you do with it.” Emerson sighs. “I don’t know what shape he’s in, or if he’ll have any answers for you. And maybe you shouldn’t even try—”
“I’m going.” I leap to my feet.
“What, now? Brit, wait a minute,” Emerson tries to calm me, but for the first time since this mess with Hunter, I have a sense of clarity—some calm cutting through the terrible ache in my chest.
“No, I need to talk to him,” I insist, reaching for my purse. “You’re right. I need answers. I need to face the past.”
“At least think about it,” Emerson follows me across the room. “Sleep on it, maybe when you’ve had time—”
“No,” I stop him. “I have to do this now. I’ll be back before dinner,” I add. “I promise, I’ll be OK.”
Emerson doesn’t look convinced, but he can’t stop me, and he knows it. “Be careful,” he murmurs, “We don’t know what he’s into these days. He could have done time, been mixed up in all kinds of stuff.”
“I know,” I reassure him. “Believe me, I’m not expecting daddy dearest to come meet me with open arms. I just want to talk to him.”
Emerson nods. “Call me the minute you need, and I’ll be there, you know that, right?”
“I know.” I smile at him. “Love you.”
“Love you right back.”
I drive fast, flirting with the speed limit as I head out to the address on that scribbled sheet of paper. I clench the steering wheel, my thoughts in a whirl, a million questions running around in my mind. Like why he left, what made him turn around and walk away from his family, his own flesh-and-blood? Did he think of me the way I thought about him when I was younger, watching other kids in school get picked up by their fathers, safe in a world of belonging I could only dream about?
One thing’s for sure, I need answers from him if I’m ever going to be free. I want so desperately to break this damn cycle I’m in, feeling so worthless that I can’t believe anything good will ever last. I pushed Hunter, I know it, but I can’t help myself. I’m always waiting for the house of cards to tumble and fall, for every moment of happiness to crumble into ash. It was the first thing I ever learned, what if feels like to be left, and that knowledge has colored every day of my life since.
