by DC Renee
“Then I guess I was wrong. She doesn’t love me,” I responded dejectedly.
“You’re not. She does. I never said she’d come around in a heartbeat, C. I just said she’ll come around.”
“I don’t know that I would,” I mumbled, but I didn’t think Beth heard me.
“She’s avoiding me too.” She pouted. “She thinks this was all some kind of setup, I’m sure. I guess I can’t blame her,” she went on. “I mean how in the hell do you pick the one girl you’re linked to? Out of everyone in this freaking universe, how? How, Carter? How do you and your wiseass friends pick her, choose her to be your puppet, your means to a stupid bet end? I’d probably think you were playing me the entire time too.”
“And you still think she’s going to come around?” I asked sarcastically.
“Exactly!” she cried.
“Beth, you make no sense,” I mumbled, not caring about anything but figuring out how I’d get Emerson to open the door for me the next day, and the next, and so on. Because I wasn’t going to stop. So help me, I wasn’t going to stop trying.
“It’s fate, C. Think about it. If her father were still alive, she might be on a different path. If she were on a different path, your dumb-dumb friends wouldn’t have chosen her for your bet. If that hadn't happened, you wouldn’t have met, fallen in love, and voila, lived happily ever after.”
“Where in all this do you see the happily ever after?” I asked, my heart cracking just thinking about the lack of both “happily” and “ever after.” I’d take either one at that point, as long as they involved Emerson.
I rubbed my chest with my hand; the pain not just emotional, but actually physical whenever I thought about Emerson. No amount of rubbing helped, though … ever.
“Not with you sitting on your ass feeling sorry for yourself,” she hissed. “And I don’t understand how your boss hasn’t fired you. You look like hell, you smell worse, and are you hungover?” she accused.
“I haven’t been sleeping well, Beth,” I admitted. “Heartbreak will do that to you.” It also had you drinking like a fish, crying when no one was around, replaying scenes from your life like a goddamn movie, and then wishing you hadn’t relived the good times because it made the pain you were in that much more prominent.
“Then go win her back.”
“Like I haven’t been trying,” I responded.
“How? Stalking her? That’s your bright idea? You need to explain to her everything, C.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” I threw my hands up in frustration.
“She’s not listening to you like that, Carter. Find a way to make her listen. Find a way to tell her everything without having to face her because you’re not going to face her anytime soon. And if you keep going like this, I’m going to tell Mom.”
Our parents had moved a few years back when my dad’s company gave him a better position at a new site they were opening. We were close, but unfortunately, we didn’t see much of each other lately. That meant they didn’t know about Emerson, didn’t know about all the drama, and I was thankful for that. I didn’t want them disappointed in me. I had done that enough when I had killed Emerson’s father.
I knew Beth was only partly joking, but if she was so inclined to tell our parents, then so be it. Nothing they could say or do would help me, so it didn’t matter.
“Whatever.” I waved her off.
“Jesus, C. You haven’t given up yet, have you?” she asked, partially shocked.
“No!” I roared.
“Good. Now, get some sleep. Tomorrow is a new day, and you’re going to win her back, I just know it.”
She kissed me and left. I took a glass of bourbon and downed it, and then I grabbed another and downed that one too.
My friends had offered to kidnap her to force her to hear me out. The more I drank, the better that option was looking, but I knew I’d never do that to her. I also wasn’t sure if my friends were serious, but I’d like to think they were.
I didn’t know if I dreamed it or just thought of it when I was somewhat passed out. My nights had become a blur, but either way, Beth had been right. Tomorrow was a new day, and I knew what I needed to do. Rather, it was something I wanted to do.
I made it to Emerson’s home by early evening. I knocked on her door and waited. But as usual, nothing happened. I knocked again, called out her name, and still, she didn’t open the door.
I took the picture I had carried with me, read it one last time, and slipped it under her door. I touched my chest gingerly, right over my heart. The pain was different now, multiplied, but somehow, I also felt a little bit of peace with what I’d done.
I waited a few more minutes, knocked a couple of more times, called out to Emerson, and begged her to come to the door. Finally, I turned to leave, and I heard the door open.
“What the hell is this? Another sick joke?” she asked, holding the picture up.
“I love you, Em,” I whispered. “It’s not joke.”
“You were the one person who didn’t poke fun at me, at how I looked, but I should have known that was all part of the scam too,” she sneered.
I unbuttoned my shirt, pulled it open, and lifted the gauze over my heart. Emerson gasped and covered her mouth. Tears started streaming down her cheeks. I didn’t want to hurt her anymore, but I needed her to understand. “Nothing was ever a scam with you, Em. I was upfront with you from the beginning about everything. I didn’t tell you about my past when you opened up to me because I was scared you’d see me differently. Never did I once, for a second, imagine I was the man responsible for your father’s death.”
“Liar,” she screamed.
“I’ve never lied to you. Only to myself,” I whispered. “I was young and scared, and I should have stopped, but I was in shock, Em. I stopped as soon as my brain caught up with what happened. I called nine-one-one. I turned myself in. I hated myself for so long and blamed myself for even longer. I was able to forgive myself, to move on, because of therapy, Em. I went to therapy because I couldn’t live with what I’d done. But it helped. If it hadn’t, I don’t know that I would be standing here today. And I’m so fucking thankful it helped because I got to meet you, I got to know you and fall in love with you. I thought I’d gotten back to my old self a long time ago, but I realized with you, I had only been at ninety percent of who I used to be. You made me feel like I was at one hundred. You, Em—not your past, not mine, not what made us who we are. You showed me beauty is beneath everything,” I said as I pointed at the tattoo over my heart. It was a white swan looking at her reflection in the water, and what was staring back at her was an ugly duckling. It was Em, my Em. Only, it wasn’t. It was me too.
“This is me and you, Em. But you’re not the ugly duckling, I am. You’re the only beautiful thing in my life, and I ruined it before I even met you because I was ugly. I swear, Em, it was an accident. If I could go back, even if it meant our paths would never cross, even if it meant I’d never have met you and gotten to know you, I’d take it all back. If I could spare you any amount of pain, I would. But fuck, Em, I’m a selfish fucking bastard, and I hate myself for thinking this, but I’m thankful for whatever brought us together. Because any time with you was worth it. Any time. God, I fucking love you, and I can’t stand that I hurt you.”
I watched as she doubled over, clutching her stomach, her body shaking from the force of her crying. “I don’t want to leave you, Em. I want to fight for you, I want to get you to forgive me, understand that I never meant to hurt you and that I didn’t know we were linked until two weeks ago. I was looking for a pen and paper in your drawer to leave you a note. I came across the newspaper clippings,” I told her, feeling she deserved to know how I found out. “That’s how I found out, Em. I swear to you I didn’t know before. I want you to believe me, I want to win your love back, but I won’t hurt you any more than I have. And I know I’m hurting you every time I come here, every time I contact you. So tell me now and I’ll leave you
alone. It will kill me—I promise you that—but I will leave you alone.”
She didn’t speak, just kept sobbing. I wanted to go comfort her, but I knew that wasn’t what she would want. As hard as it was, I stayed put. “But you have my heart, Em. You’ll have it forever. And if the only way I can keep you with me is directly over my heart, then that’s what I’ll settle for. I love you, Emerson,” I said her full name so she’d know how serious I was. “I love you in any shape or form, hiding behind your wigs and your glasses, rolling your eyes at me, teasing me, smiling at me, any form. Please, Emerson, tell me you love me too. Tell me we can figure this out.”
I waited, holding my breath for her response, silently praying for her love, bartering with God for some hope. People like me didn’t get miracles, though, because the words out of Emerson’s mouth were, “I can’t.” She turned and ran inside.
“I love you, Emerson Higgins,” I said one last time and started to walk away.
“It wasn’t your fault.” I heard Emerson’s mom. I hadn’t even noticed her, but she was off to the side. I wondered how much of the conversation she’d heard.
“I killed your husband,” I admitted, although I was pretty sure she already knew.
“No, Carter. You were put in a shitty situation, and so was my husband, and so was Emerson, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault. And I’m tired, so very tired,” she said as if she were truly exhausted, “of everyone feeling responsible.”
“But I was driving the car.”
“And he came out of nowhere. And there’s so much more to every situation, Carter. There is no black and white ever. There’s only gray. Emerson knows that too. She’s just scared, and hurt, and this is all fresh to her. She needs to come to terms with it all, but she will, I’m sure. She loves you. Don’t ever doubt that.”
“Sometimes love isn’t enough,” I responded.
“Whoever said that wasn’t in love,” she said dismissively. “You’re a good man, Carter, don’t doubt that. And this whole situation? Well, let’s just say I believe in fate. People don’t share pasts like you do and get thrown together for no reason.”
“It wasn’t for no reason because she’s shown me so much. I’ll forever be grateful for that.”
“But you want more,” she stated.
“With Em, I’ll always want more. But she doesn’t,” I said dejectedly.
“She does. That’s why she’s pushing you away. Don’t worry,” she said as she gingerly patted my cheek like my mother used to. “It will all work out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must make sure my daughter is all right.”
“Thank you,” I told her as she walked away.
“Oh, and Carter,” she said, and I turned back. “There’re no ugly ducklings in this scenario,” she said as she pointed at my chest. “Just two people who needed to realize they were already beautiful swans, but only when they’re together. It’ll happen,” she added and turned away once more.
I wished I could believe her, but I had gotten the tattoo not only because I wanted Emerson to know how much she meant to me, but also because I knew I’d never get her back. This was my way of keeping her with me always. And as that thought settled in, I put my hand on my chest and let the tears flow. Because that was all there was left to do.
Thirty Three
Emerson
I had to go on business trips every so often, but they were always few and far between. I only went when some out-of-state supplier needed handholding to get him to lower their prices. And even then, Don usually went. I only went when Don couldn’t go or when he thought the distributor would appreciate my more feminine touch. This trip hadn’t been necessary … at all.
But I knew Don had sent me away because he wanted me to get away from what was going on in my life. I hadn’t been hiding anything from him. He was the closest thing to a friend that I had then, and I spilled my guts to him the minute I saw him.
He hugged me, sat down with me as I cried, and then asked if I needed him to break some bones. I was pretty sure he’d do it if I asked.
I knew Don spoke to my mom on occasion, both always worrying about me. And by his reaction when I confided in him, I had a feeling he’d already known all details I’d just spilled thanks to my mom, even if he didn’t tell me he knew. I wondered who else knew besides me. I wondered how I didn’t know.
“Oh, Em, sweetheart,” my mom had said not two minutes after I’d walked back into the house that day just over a week before.
I had been strong; I hadn’t responded to Carter, hadn’t opened the door for him. I had successfully avoided Beth, and I’d ignored the calls and messages from Carter’s friends. It didn’t take a genius to find out they had gotten my number from one of the two Anderson siblings, but I was surprised they had gotten involved in the first place.
With the constant bombardment from them all, it had been so hard not to just break down. I fought against every pleading bone in my body, every inch of me that begged just to hear Carter out, especially my traitorous heart. It wanted a reason for this madness, but somehow, my mind overpowered it. Somehow, my mind found a way to build my shields back up, cement the concrete, and even add an extra layer of bricks just for good measure.
I was a mess inside, but no one aside from my mom and Don would know, and only because they knew me so well. Even when I tried to hide it from them, and I didn’t try all that hard because I was comfortable with them, they knew the battle raging inside me. On the outside, all you could see was the “normal” Emerson – huge glasses, hideous wig, baggy clothes and all.
And then Carter slid a picture of his body, but that wasn’t what he was showcasing. It was the tattoo over his heart. It was obvious he had done it recently, the skin red and puffy around it, and I didn’t understand it. It was as if he was mocking me, but why? What had I done so horrible in my life to deserve him destroying it not once, but twice? And he wouldn’t give up. Was the tattoo some kind of prize? Some way to display his victory over me?
And my ability to keep him at arm’s length went out the window.
I confronted him, but that was a mistake because his words were so sincere, his pain so raw and honest that I could literally feel it on the other side of the walkway. He was radiating his misery, his torment, and it was killing me. It was obliterating my walls and turning them to dust.
I believed him, but I didn’t. I wanted him, but I didn’t. I hated him, but I didn’t. I still couldn’t hate him. I loved him. And that killed me even more because I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to handle everything that I had learned; I didn’t know how to handle what he’d done; I didn’t know how to handle my part in all this. And most importantly, I didn’t know how to handle my feelings. They were battling each other inside my heart, and currently, there were no winners.
“Em,” my mom had repeated my name as she wrapped her arms around me and let me rock back and forth like a child. “He loves you,” she told me.
“It doesn’t matter even if he does. How can I be with my father’s killer?” I asked her.
“Sweetheart, that was an accident. You know it, and I know it. It’s horrible, Em, but he didn’t set out to hurt you. Some things are just bigger than us, and this”—she paused—“well, things like this don’t just occur for the sake of occurring. You both needed each other to completely heal. You just didn’t know it.”
“How can Carter be the one to save me when he was the one to destroy me in the first place?” I asked through sobs.
“Because he understood better than anyone else what it was like to move past something like that. Because he loved you enough not to let you push him away. Because he didn’t destroy you, Em. He was just a young boy in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“And Dad was in the wrong place at the wrong time too?” I asked accusatorily.
“Your father knew exactly what he was doing that day. He knew it a little too well.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
She sighed, pulli
ng her arm away from me for a moment to run her palm down her face, and then she wrapped her arms around me tighter than before. “I didn’t want you to know this, sweetheart. I was going to go to my grave with this knowledge, but I guess it’s time you learned the truth about that day. I know Carter was the one driving the car, Em, so in a sense, yes, he killed your father. But he also saved you that day too.”
“How?” I asked, wiping at my tears so I could give her my full attention.
“When I first met your father, oh, goodness, I was smitten,” she said wistfully. “He was so charismatic, so full of life. We had a whirlwind romance, and the next thing I knew, I was married and pregnant. You were born, and life was perfect. You were my precious baby girl and the way your father loved you, oh, I don’t think anyone could love their child more. You could do no wrong in his eyes. And for a while, our family was happy. But, Em, you know life isn’t always fair, and sometimes, two people who used to love each other very much start having issues. Your father lost his job, and it stressed us out financially. We started bickering. He felt insufficient, which contributed to our fights. And the next thing we knew, we no longer loved each other, not even close. We tried to make it work for you, though, but even then, we could only handle so much.”
“But I didn’t see you fight. I didn’t hear anything,” I argued.
“We didn’t want you to know. We both loved you so very much, and we didn’t want to hurt you unnecessarily.”
“What does this have to do with anything?” I asked, not understanding why she was telling me.
“Because near the end, things got bad, sweetheart. We were fighting nonstop, and it got ugly. We both said and did things that weren’t right. And your father was worried I would get custody of you, and he’d never see you again.”
“You’d never do that,” I responded.
“No, Em, I wouldn’t do that to you, but your father was still afraid. That day …” She trailed off.
“That day what?” I asked, encouraging her to continue.
“That day, Em, he was going to take you away. He had some people waiting near our home who would help him take you somewhere far away, somewhere I wouldn’t find you.”
