Mirabelle sunk to the edge of the bed closest to him. The sheets smelled sweetly of sex, and she plucked a long strand of red hair from the pillow. Whatever happened between Emory and Amelia, it was leaps and bounds closer to lovemaking than her and Jack’s tryst that morning.
“What are we doing here, Emory? You gonna keep her locked away forever and that’s it?”
Head still in his hand, he glared at her from beneath his brows. “You know that was never my plan.”
“Look, I adore Amelia and, under other circumstances, we wouldn’t have this conversation, but she’s not some random chick you picked up at a bar. The impact this could have on your men, the business, it’s?—”
“You think I haven’t thought about that, how this could all go sideways?”
“And yet you’re still willing to risk everything we’ve worked for.”
Emory abruptly stood from his seat and pointed at her with a harsh warning. “Stay out of the business. I won’t tell you again. We’re done here.”
As always, he drew the boundaries of their conversation. Mirabelle never had a say. She bolted from the bed and stomped to the door.
“Fine. Your world, your rules, right?”
“Don’t fucking walk out on me!” Emory hollered at her back. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Mirabelle slammed the door shut and crossed the room in pounding strides. “This isn’t about the business. This is about you being honest with me!”
Emory settled on his heels and momentarily looked poised to dig in at an impasse. He conceded, though, his face contorting with a rare glimpse of pain.
“Fine. You want honesty? Here it is. You know how often I wanna leave my life? Leave you and Jack and Liam and start over in a nowhere town. No name. No past. Nothing.”
His voice cracked with a swell of emotion. Emory stood tall and righted himself before it took him under.
“I bury it and hope to God the wound heals before it festers. Then there’s Amelia. She takes one look at me and sees what all of you pretend isn’t there. The only time I’m at peace or feel like I can finally breathe again is when I’m with her. She’s the escape, the starting over, the healing. That’s it. That’s the truth, which is far more than I ever get from you.”
Mirabelle numbed with a chill despite Emory’s searing stare. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what it means. I am honest with you. I don’t sneak around behind your back. I don’t lie to your face as if you’re too dense to notice.”
He knows.Of course, he did. The timing of the revelation coincided with his and Amelia’s time together.
“No, what you do is keep me out in the cold. And I’m supposed to be happy there and play the part you put me in. Say please-and-thank-you then shut the fuck up and smile when Iwant to scream. How was I supposed to know you felt this way? I’d do anything for you, but what power do I have?”
“You think what I have is power?” Emory laughed bitterly. “You don’t know what I’ve done for us. What choice did I have when we left home? I was thirteen. You were eight. The things I do and the things I’ve done, they were always to keep you safe, to give us a fighting chance.”
As close as they were as siblings, there were things Emory never talked about, including the day their father died. It’d poured chilly rain as Emory hastily shoved their things into his backpack and toted Mirabelle away from home. In a fogged-up bus stop, Emory had made a choice that propelled their lives down this path. Her childhood ended that day, but his had ended years earlier with a secret he still safeguarded.
“You’re not always honest with me,” Mirabelle said as tears wet her cheeks. “You hold on to things. You keep secrets. What happened?”
“I told you what happened with Amelia.”
“I’m not talking about her!” Mirabelle screamed through a sob. “That day in the woods with you and Ivan. Something happened and it changed you. What did he do?”
On a warm spring day, Mirabelle had swung on the swing set in their backyard, but the song she’d hummed disintegrated when Ivan broke through the tree line with a sobbing Emory in tow. Blood had stained both their hands and, that night, Mirabelle snuggled next to Emory and listened helplessly as he cried himself to sleep. A solemn iciness became a part of him after, marked by something that’d broken him. He never spoke of what that something was and wouldn’t speak it now.
“Does Amelia know?” she asked with shameful resentment.
Shouldn’t she be happy he found in Amelia a confessional, a girl who’d whisk him away with sweet kisses and tender promises?“You can have it all,”she’d say, but little darling blinded herself to how much it’d cost him.
Emory fled behind his stoicism, the only shelter he allowedhimself, and said nothing as he fixed his gaze to the door.I’ll always be the last to know.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said with a face of stone and a voice to match. “I never meant to hurt you.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed and jaw tipped high. Even his attempt at comfort came like a winter’s chill. Defeated on all fronts, Mirabelle turned to leave. What would Jack say?You failed.Another voice joined the choir, soft-spoken from a fawn-eyed beauty.Small acts of defiance.
