She looks at me, those eyes that are so much like Jared’s. “I’m sorry. I’ll forever be sorry for what happened to you.” She huffs out a deep breath. “So I’ll go to the police station right now if you want. Tell them everything. Face whatever consequences come.” She pulls out her phone like she’s ready to call them right now. “Because Jared hasn’t slept in three days. He’s not eating. Ryan had to physically remove him from work because he was making mistakes.” Her voice breaks on the last word. “My brother, who never makes mistakes, who saves lives, is falling apart.”
I flash back to Jared after he’d dealt with traumatic stuff at work, how he’d held himself together and could still function. The idea that I’ve pushed him past that point, that I’m the trauma he can’t compartmentalize… I turn away from Sophie before she sees my face.
“You don’t need to go to the police,” I say quietly.
What good will Sophie getting in trouble do? It won’t remove the scars from my face. It won’t change the fact that the man I fell in love with kept something vital from me.
“He didn’t tell me when he had so many chances to,” I say.
“Because I begged him not to. On my knees, crying, terrified of losing Emmy. And he chose to protect me, like he always has.”
I blink back tears I’m tired of crying.
Sophie heads toward the door, her hand on the handle, then pauses. “You know what the worst part is? You two are perfect for each other. Like, disgustingly perfect.”
I flinch, but she keeps going.
“He laughs more with you than I’ve ever seen him laugh before. You’ve made him want things for himself again instead of just living for everyone else. My brother is the best person on the planet, and he loves you so much.” She looks back at me. “I just think you need to think carefully before you throw that away.”
Then she’s gone, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a cat who’s judging me from the kitchen counter.
I try to go back to the couch, to resume my wallowing position like the last ten minutes didn’t happen. But my body won’t cooperate. I pace to the window, then to the kitchen, then back to the couch. Nothing feels right. Nowhere feels right.
Patches watches my frantic movement with disdain.
Twenty-five thousand dollars. His savings for his future, given to a stranger he talked to in the dark.
No. Not a stranger. Someone he claims he’d already started to fall in love with. He didn’t think he’d ever see me again, yet he gave me all his money.
I curl up on the couch, pulling Jared’s hoodie over me. It still smells like him.
I don’t know how to forgive this.
But I don’t know how to live without him either.
The space between those two truths feels like another tomo, dark and deep, and this time, there’s no one with a chocolate-cake voice to guide me through.
Chapter 15
I’ve been staring at my ceiling for so long that I’ve memorized every crack. There’s one that looks like a lightning bolt, right next to a water stain that could be Australia if you squint. Patches has given up on trying to get my attention and is now passive-aggressively knocking things off my bedside table.
It’s been two days since Sophie’s visit. Two days of replaying everything she said. How devastated Jared is. How he’d given me his life savings in an attempt to atone. How “disgustingly perfect” she thinks we are together.
My phone buzzes. It’s Annie, checking if I’m coming to my appointment. I’d forgotten. But maybe talking to a neutral person is exactly what I need right now.
An hour later, I’m in her office, probably looking like something Patches dragged in and then decided wasn’t worth the effort to actually kill.
“You look like you’ve had an interesting week,” Annie says, which I’m fairly sure is therapist code for “you look like hell.”
So I tell her everything. The birthday party, the overheard conversation, Jared’s confession, Sophie’s visit. She listenswithout interrupting, though her eyebrows do some impressive gymnastics when I get to the twenty-five thousand dollars part.
“How are you feeling about all of this?” she asks when I finally run out of words.
“Like someone put my emotions in a blender and hit puree.”
“That’s understandable. It’s a lot to process.”
“He lied to me. For months.”
