Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)(50)

“Get out,” I calmly say in her direction.

“No.” She wipes the tears off her face

“Emma, get the f*ck out of my house. I should have seen it all along. You’re no better than Sarah. We are done.”

“Caleb, please just stop for a second and listen.”

“Get the f*ck out of my house. Leave!” I yell as loud as possible. The intensity in my voice has her heading for the door. And just because I need to hurt her the same way she hurt me, I say words I’ll never be able to take back. “Emma, while you are pointing the magical finger of blame, you might want to take a look in the mirror. Your sister tried to kill herself four times before you decided to get off your ass and actually try to help. Who knows? Maybe it would have only been one attempt if you had done something instead of pawning her off on Brett. Yeah, it’s obvious how much you love her.” Just as the pain of my words cross her tear-stained face, I slam the door.

I only make it a few steps before the realization of what just happened hits me. I just lost Emma. The only woman who has managed to make me feel since Manda, and now she’s gone too. I reach a hand out to balance on the wall, needing something to support me. My eyes cross the room and see a picture propped up against the wall. I have no idea where she got it from, but Emma must have found one of the frames I used to make for Manda. Inside is a picture of us smiling and laughing, and it breaks me.

I have no control as my legs carry me across the room. I grab the picture and shatter it against the wall—the very same way both of those woman did to me. First Manda, now Emma. I was only half of a man to begin with, so losing Emma should completely destroy me. But there is no way I can put my pride aside and chase her down now that I know that she blames me for the wreck. I’ve blamed myself for leaving that night for years, and Emma’s words just confirmed my guilt.





“PICK UP, pick up, pick up,” I chant into the phone as I pull out of Caleb’s driveway. As soon as I started the car, I burst into full on tears and dialed Hunter. He didn’t answer though. I know he and Alex are probably out at the bar, so I dialed Alex next.

He answers on the third ring. “Hey, hun.”

“Where’s Hunter?” I choke through my tears.

“Shit. Are you okay?”

“No. Where is he?” I hear him pull the phone away from his ear and call for Hunter.

“What’s up, sugar?” Hunter says sweetly.

“It just exploded. Really f*cking huge explosion.”

“Fuck.”

“I’m coming home. Is that okay?”

“Of course. I’ll change my sheets and everything.” He tries to make a joke, but it only makes me cry harder.

“I blamed him for the wreck.”

“Oh f*ck, Emma! That’s pretty harsh.”

“Then he blamed me for not being there for Sarah after her first attempt.”

“God damn. This must have been some fight. Just come home. We’ll figure it out.”

“I’m on the way to the airport now.”

“You want me to buy you a ticket? We’re just next door at Murphy’s. I can run home and do it now.”

“Could you please? I’ll be at the airport in twenty-five minutes. Oh God, Hunter. This is so f*cked up.”

“Just get your ass on the plane. I’ll see you in a little bit.”

“I love you, Hunt.”

“Love you too, Em.”





NOTHING PREPARED me for the way I would I feel when I lost Emma—not even losing Manda. To know she’s just down the block going about her life—a life that no longer involves me—makes my chest ache. I keep telling myself this is just a fight and together we will move past it, but I don’t think there is any getting past this. We aren’t just on different pages with the whole Sarah thing—we are in two totally different libraries. I’ve spent days walking around lost in my thoughts, replaying that argument, her words that slayed me, and my words to punish her. It was a vicious circle of hate, pain, and guilt.

I pull into my driveway, hopeful that she will be there waiting for me. It’s been two weeks, and I would give anything to feel her right now. I fell for Emma. I told her I was ready to stand again, but I was wrong. I was nowhere near ready for this. I’m not just on my knees these days. I’m flat on my ass. It’s been two weeks without her, and the image of her face as I slammed the door that night still shreds me. But we both said words that can never be taken back or explained away.

Sitting on my front porch is a small package. It’s not unusual for my mailman to leave them there. It’s probably a drill bit or something I ordered online. I scoop it up and walk inside, dropping it with my keys on the kitchen table. I grab a beer from the fridge and prepare myself for another night alone in the workshop.

Just as I pass the package, I catch a glimpse of the sender’s name—Emma Erickson. My heart jumps to my throat, and I quickly rip it open. A small, familiar black box falls out along with a handwritten letter.



Caleb,

I couldn’t let you give this up. If you want to leave this with Manda, do it for yourself—not me. I couldn’t have that on my conscience. We both knew from the start where this would end. But I’m not sorry we tried.