I take a breath and have to look away from her.  The tears of pity are not something I care to see.

“The last time I saw her was right after I woke up from the bombing that took my leg.  She took great care in reminding me how fucked up I was.  That the two men who had lost their lives that day were just another thing my black soul had ruined.  That I had killed them because they’d had the misfortune of being around me that day.  She then dug the knife deeper, telling me that my fiancée had been working with them to trick me into signing over my part of the Locke fortune.”

I lay my head back and try not to let the memories of that day drag me under.  “I think the final nail was when she told me the child I had thought my own was Mason’s, my brother.  So yeah, Em, I don’t really think I know how to do love, and even if I let myself believe that what we have is strong enough to beat my demons, my black soul, I’m too scared that I’ll drag you under in the process and you’ll never recover.”

I don’t give her a second to respond. I climb slowly from the couch and toss my iPad down in the seat.  “You can stay with me until you get on your feet again.  We’ll leave in the morning.”

I walk out of the room and spend the rest of the evening in a nice rage-filled self-loathing pity party.  When I’m finally able to drift off to sleep, I’m awoken what feels like minutes later covered in sweat, my throat raw from my screams.

I had the nightmare again that I was back in my past.  Only this time when I sat in the hospital bed and listened to my mother lay into me, it was Emmy.  My sweet Emmy was there, telling me how she will never forgive me for ruining her life.

Chapter 15—Emmy

We’ve been home for a few weeks now.  At first, I wouldn’t leave the apartment.  Even though I had come to terms with the memories of being home and not seeing one of my best friends, it didn’t mean that I was necessarily ready to move on.  I missed him.  However, it was getting easier to deal with each day.

One of the hardest parts of being back was my strained relationship with Maddox.  We’ve hardly spoken to each other since that last day at the cabin.  Chipped responses here and there and notes on the counter telling me that he wouldn’t be home filled up the first week.  I heard from one of the girls that he had been sleeping at the office while they finished up their dealings with Dominic Murphy.  Things haven’t been any easier since that.

Right when they let their guard down, Chelcie was put in harm’s way again.  I don’t remember much from my standoff with Sarah Jane.  It’s almost as if I had been having an out-of-body experience.  I can see the events of that day playing out, but I can’t tell you how I knew what to do.  Izzy told me that she thinks it was Coop who’d made sure they were safe.  I hadn’t planned on going to see Chelcie that day.  I had planned on apartment hunting, but it was almost as if I’d had to give her her gift right that second.  The rest was either just damn good luck or maybe Izzy is onto something.

I like to think that maybe it was a little of Coop watching out for us and making sure that his son was okay.

The night after the showdown with Sarah Jane was the worst.  When the adrenaline crashed and I realized that I had actually shot another human, things were not pretty.  I went from jazzed beyond belief to a sobbing mess curled into a ball in the shower.

Maddox blamed himself for having taught me how to use a gun and then again for having made it readily available.  We fought and it ended in another rough crashing together of our bodies.  This time, though, I was the one to get up from the floor and leave him with an “I’m sorry.”  It isn’t right.  We keep coming together for a reason, but I’ve started to realize that I might never get to beat through his beliefs.  I can’t think of a way to make him believe in us.  His mind keeps telling him no, to stay away and keep me out.  But his heart—God, his beautiful heart—keeps calling out to me, and like a glutton for punishment, I keep going back for more.

I can’t even explain where my mind is right now.  I’m mad—that’s a given—but I’ve also started to lose my faith.  I’ve lost the way to my happiness and I’m not really sure how to get it back.  I’m stuck in a rut, and honestly, I’m thinking it would be better if I just throw in the towel and leave.  Not run, but go somewhere else and get my head on right.  Somewhere where he isn’t.  I can’t keep fighting for someone who refuses to consider my love for him.  It’s like beating a horse when he’s already down.  Every time he rejects me and my heart shatters more, I just know I won’t recover from the pain if I stick around.