Out of Breath (Breathing, #3)(96)

‘I’m sorry.’

I met her sympathetic eyes. ‘It’ll be fine,’ I said without conviction, thinking about the house and how owning two properties wouldn’t have been an issue if it weren’t for the divorce. I knew what my mother wasn’t telling me. My father was forcing her to sell it. Emma sank back against the couch, deep in thought.

‘Are you hungry?’ I asked, standing up and walking towards the kitchen, trying to change the subject. ‘I bought steaks for that insane grill out there.’

‘Sure,’ she answered blankly, still lost in her head.

I stopped at the sound of her fading tone. ‘What are you thinking, Emma?’ I wasn’t sure she’d answer me, but it was worth a try.

‘Why didn’t he like me? Your father. Why didn’t he approve of me? He didn’t even know me.’

I ground my teeth at the sound of the hurt in her voice, anger flooding through me for every selfish thing that man did. How was I going to explain the inner workings of Stuart Mathews to a girl who thought she wasn’t good enough and that everything she did was wrong? He’d played on her weaknesses, and he’d gotten to her, despite my efforts to keep them apart.

I walked to the couch, and she pulled her feet back so I could sit at the end. I turned to face her. ‘You’re right. He didn’t know you. And you didn’t deserve the way he treated you. I never forgave him for that.’ She lifted her eyes in surprise. ‘Image and reputation were more important to him than people, than his own family. He didn’t come from money – my mother did. He always felt he had to prove something to her family, to be worthy of my mother. But no matter how many times she assured him that they loved him because she did, he couldn’t accept that. Once he got the taste of success, he hungered for more, stepping on anyone who got in his way.

‘You never did anything. Unfortunately, you didn’t fit the image of the girl he wanted for me.’

‘But Catherine did?’ she mumbled under her breath.

My back tensed at the mention of her name. I pressed my lips together, remembering again that Emma had seen the photo in the paper. I connected with her troubled brown eyes and answered calmly. ‘Yes.’

She flinched.

‘It’s not –’

‘I don’t want to know,’ she blurted. ‘I can’t …’ Emma pulled her legs in to her, moving as far away from me as she could. She knew there was more to that picture than just me obliging my father. I bowed my head and said, ‘I never dated her.’

‘I really don’t want to know, Evan,’ she begged, her voice a whisper.

I didn’t want to talk about her. Not now. Not ever. I wanted to forget about everything that had happened after I left. I wished we could just start over again, and let it all go. But I knew that was impossible. I knew I’d have to confront my demons eventually – I couldn’t keep running forever.





30


Choices


I LAY ACROSS THE LOVE SEAT WITH MY FEET propped on the arm, not really watching the movie that played on the giant flat-screen suspended above the fireplace. I looked over my shoulder at Evan, asleep on the couch.

I was trying so hard to be okay. I didn’t want to be that girl, drifting in the water, lost and alone, wishing the tide would pull her out to sea. I was fighting to move forward, struggling to be better. But I didn’t know how.

Evan stirred, and I looked away from him, pretending to watch the movie.

‘Hey,’ he rasped, sleep heavy in his voice. ‘You’re still awake?’

I tilted my head towards him. ‘Yes, I am. But you fell asleep.’

‘I did,’ he admitted groggily. ‘So movies don’t put you to sleep any more?’

‘They still do,’ I said, grinning slightly. ‘I haven’t really been watching, though.’

‘What’s keeping you awake?’

I spun myself around to face him.

‘This has been the most intense two and a half weeks of my life … ever,’ I confessed. ‘And considering my life, that’s saying a lot.’

I leaned over and clicked off the television.

Emma continued, ‘I guess … I’m overwhelmed and … scared.’

‘Scared?’

Emma looked down and started fumbling with her fingers. I wanted to invite her to sit with me, so I could be closer to her. She seemed too far away on the love seat. But she was even further away in her thoughts, and I wanted to know where she was and how to get her back.

‘There’s this letter, sitting on my bed,’ she explained, her voice unsteady. ‘I’m pretty sure it’s from my grandmother, and I don’t want to open it.’ She closed her eyes to hide her emotions, and I slid down the couch to sit across from her. When she opened her eyes again, they flickered with distress. I fought the urge to reach for her hand.

‘Your grandmother?’ I questioned, not aware she had any family other than George and the kids.

‘My father’s mother,’ she explained weakly. ‘She disowned him when I was born, because he and Rachel were never married.’

I tried to keep my expression smooth as she shared one more thing she’d kept from me.

‘Evan, I’m not strong enough to read it, to listen to her blame me for the loss I caused her sons. I can’t handle one more person telling me that I should never have been born, or that I’m not worth being loved. I just … can’t.’