And then she’s gone, too, without looking back.
They don’t see Emmy’s face crumple.
“I’m so sorry.” I’m across the room in a split second. Emmy presses her hands to her mouth, as if she can contain the choked, painful cries. Every single one shreds my heart as I sit on the edge of her bed. “They don’t deserve children. They don’t deserveyou.”
When she leans forward, I gingerly wrap my arms around her. “Be careful of your face.”
We sit for a long time, as Emmy cries her grief into my shoulder. My hands are soft on her back. “It’s going to be okay, Em. You’re going to be okay.”
Finally, she hiccups, pulling away. “Sorry. Look, if you need to leave, you can. You must have other things to do. I can... I’ll be fine, Jared. I’ve taken enough of your time with my family drama.”
“Listen to me.” My voice is firm. “There is nothing –nothing– more important to me than you. I mean it, Em. This is the onlyplace I want to be. If you want me to leave, I absolutely will. But I want to stay with you. Do you want me to leave?”
Tears drip off her chin. “No. I don’t want you to leave.”
“Then it’s settled.” My own chest feels tight as she leans into me again, and I press my lips to her hair. “I’m staying with you, Emmy.”
60
Emmy
My doctor is a kind man.
He shoots a mildly amused glance at Jared, lounging in the chair. “I feel like we have two patients. When was the last time you slept?”
“I sleep.” Jared is examining the way he tilts my neck, assessing the swelling. “You don’t have to worry about me, sir. I’d rather you focused on her.”
“I assume you’ll be staying with Emmy when we discharge her tomorrow?” Wilson crosses the room to make a note on my chart. “She shouldn’t be alone.”
“I—,”
“Yes.”
My pulse begins to race at his steady tone. He meets my wide-eyed stare with his own, coolly challenging look. He doesn’t look away. “She’s not going to be on her own.”
“Good.” Wilson flips the chart closed. “I’m satisfied that your healing is progressing as expected, Emmy. But as we talked about, there may be other, longer-term symptoms.”
Panic attacks. Negative thoughts. Flashbacks. “Can’t wait.”
He frowns. “This was a highly traumatic event. You’re very lucky physically, but please don’t underestimate how you feel in the coming weeks or months. I’ll give you some contacts when I discharge you that you can reach out to for support.”
“This is a marathon,” Jared murmurs. “Not a sprint.”
“Exactly.” Wilson almost smiles. “Everyone heals at their own pace. Some require less time, some need a little more help, but nobody’s journey is the wrong one. Is there anything you need to know?”
“Um.” I glance at Jared. “Will I need to speak to the police again? Sorry, doc. I know that’s probably not something you can answer.”
“They said they’d call with any update.” Jared’s fingers slip into mine. “Don’t worry about that. Time to focus on you, Em.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Wilson leaves us with more instructions on painkillers and exercises for my neck. Jared flicks through the paperwork again as soon as he’s gone, silently mouthing as he reads.
“You’re going to stay?” My quiet words make him look up. He rubs at his jaw, the dark stubble overgrown. I kind of like it.
“You shouldn’t be on your own.” He sounds uncertain.
We’ve developed a routine here. But outside… outside is different. “If you’re okay with that?”
I think I’m more than okay with that. “At your apartment? Or mine?”
