All the air leaves my lungs in one fell swoop at the unexpected words. I sit up, bringing her with me as my hands rise to cup her face. “Emmy.”
I choke on her name. She reaches up with her hands to cover mine, but she doesn’t look away.
“He threw a pan at me,” she repeats steadily. “Because I told him I wanted to leave. I shielded my eyes, but the oil sprayed over my face. My neck. My arm.”
I’m shaking. “Who? Who was it?”
I’m going to kill them.
I have nothing left to lose.
A small, sad smile creeps over her face. “Doesn’t matter. He can’t hurt me here.”
“When?” I ask raggedly. But my fingers are soft on her face, on her scars.
The scars that someone put on her fucking skin.
“Two years ago.” Her hands cover mine. “A story for a story?”
Panic sweeps through me as I stare at her. “Emmy. You – that’s not—,”
“I know,” she breathes. “But whatever it is, Ben, I can take it.”
“I know that.” My words are broken, halting. “Jesus, Emmy. Iknowthat.”
It’s not about that.
I know she’s strong enough.
Like Jared was strong enough.
I’mthe one who isn’t strong enough.
Slowly, I draw her hands away from my face, shaking my head. “Not… not now. You have work soon.”
“Screw work.” Emmy gets on her knees, her eyes shining. “Please, Ben. Let me in.”
I stare at her, and the words don’t come.
Casual.
No connections.
Nothing to leave behind.
You screwed this up so fucking badly, Ben.
“You don’t have to do this on your own,” she says gently. And I can hear the pain in her words, pain that threatens to shred what’s left of me into pieces. “Whatever it is. You’re not alone, Ben.”
“But I wanted to be.”
The words, raw and ragged, sink into silence.
Emmy stares at me, unblinking. “I… what?”
I’m shaking as I scramble away from her, off the couch and rub my hands over my face. Looking away, so I don’t have to see the hurt on her face.
My head is pounding again.
