“What did you want from me?! I tried my best. I’ve always given you my all, even when you started pulling away from my family. You made it seem like you were ready, Emory. That you wanted to be a Bronson, and then, one day out of the blue, that went up in flames. How is that supposed to make me feel?”
“I wanted to live my own life, Lance. A life with you that didn’t involve feeling like someone was constantly managing me or putting me down. Your inability to give your mother proper boundaries affected that.” A shaky breath skips past my lips. “You’ve been distracted since the very first time I came to you to voice my concerns and opinions on wedding plans. More often than not, you swatted my words away like they were annoying gnats. Not to mention how much you’ve been working since my accident. If you couldn’t be there for me through all of that, how could you ever stand across from me and promise to protect me and my heart for eternity?”
“I can’t with you… With this…”
“That’s fine. You don’t need to.” I steel my voice, lowering it. “You either take my voice from me entirely or you allow others to speak over mine without doing a damn thing to defend me. At the hospital, with our wedding, now this…”
“If we hadn’t stepped in, they would haveadmittedyou. You know this, and yet, you’re still un-fucking-grateful over it. You know,” he sneers, “my mother told me for years that she didn’t think you could step up. That she feared you’d crumble from the image of who our family is, and I never wanted to believe her because I loved you.”
My gaze bounces between his eyes, tangling in the messiness of this conversation, in years of a relationship that, looking back, was better off untouched.
I’ve wasted years with a person who was never meant for me.
With a man who never planned on standing next to his partner but in front of her.
“But she was right,” he says, looking me dead in the eye. “You can’t handle it. I was a fool to think that you ever could. That you were actually being honest with me when you said you wanted to be an important part of my life, of my family’s. You pretended to like all of us, but that was so far from the truth.” Each wordstings like a slap to the face, the center of my chest aching from a broken heart. Despite now knowing that Lance and I aren’t meant to be, it doesn’t hurt any less. There was a point in time when I loved him unconditionally.
“I should’ve listened to her,” he spits in a low voice filled with pain. “I regret ever trying to make her think you were the perfect woman for me. It would’ve saved me a lot of goddamn time and stress.”
A slow tear tracks down my cheek, and I take a step back, reclaiming my own personal space as I stare at Lance, at thestrangerin front of me. “I can’t do this with you anymore.”
“Join the damn club,” he says, a harshness to the edges of his words. He walks over to the cabinet where we have a small alcohol collection for special occasions. Opening it, he finds a bottle of Macallan and sets it on the counter. “Pack your stuff, Emory. The wedding is off, and we’re done. I don’t want you here anymore.”
17
EMORY
Ihave nowhere to go.
The only family I do have is miles away. It’d take days by car to get there. I could get a last-minute plane ticket, but most of my life is here in Coralhaven. Leaving isn’t going to help anything. It’s just going to make it worse when I’d ultimately have to come back.
And besides, I’m not sure my parents would really understand what I’m going through. They don’t know Lance as well as I would’ve hoped. I also haven’t heard from them since my mother mentioned me coming out West, which tells me that I’m not a priority in their life.
I sigh, letting out an uneven breath as I stare at the apartment complex in front of me. The same one Dawson lives in.
What I’m doing—showing up here like this—probably isn’t smart. We’ve shared a few intimate moments, but I can’t exactly say that they were enough to warrant me showing up on his doorstep with a damn suitcase.
I lift my hand in front of me, the emerald-shaped diamond glittering in the light as I twist my engagement ring around my finger.
If you want to jump, Miss Prescott, I’ll be right there jumping with you.
A part of me hates that he’s the only one I have, the only person I can turn to when I’m struggling, but I don’t know what else to do, so I drop my hand and grab my small suitcase out of the backseat and head into the foyer. I take the elevator to the second floor and find his door, hoping like hell he’s home.
An unsteadiness I don’t like plagues me, slipping in under the surface as I stand limply at the door, the weight of a messy life settling in around me.
I lift my hand to knock and squeeze my eyes shut in preparation for Dawson turning me away. But before my knuckles can make contact with the wood, the door swings open and the light from inside the apartment flicks off.
Dawson doesn’t see me at first, but I also don’t have time to step to the side before he walks into me. The handle of my suitcase drops from my grip, and I stumble to the side.
He’s quick to take in his surroundings, his hands coming up to my arms to hold me steady, andgod, do I want to walk into him, cower in his embrace, and draw strength from it.
“Emory?” There are a million questions in the way he says my name, even more when his attention drops to the bag at my side. Tear tracks stain my cheeks way too suddenly, embarrassment flushing my skin as shame marks my soul with metallic paint.
In a tone I’ve never heard come from his mouth, he asks, “What the hell did he do to you?”
My heart thaws from the frozen temperatures it’s been in for way too long. There’s something undeniably soothing overDawson assuming Lance is the one at fault—even though he was the other party involved in my illicit behavior.
When I don’t answer—because honestly, I’m having a hard time finding my words now that he’s in front of me—he presses his thumb to my chin and lifts my eyes to his. “Now isn’t the time to go quiet on me, honey.”
