Let Loose for Me

by Coffman, Georgia

  Emma appears out of nowhere, her ponytail blowing behind her as she stomps passed us.

  “Hey—” I try, but she doesn’t look at Naomi or me. She doesn’t look anywhere but toward the parking lot. “Emma, wait!”

  “You don’t need to explain.” Emma stops by her small black car as I jog up next to her, Naomi’s words nagging at me. “I knew when we started this”—she points between us—“that it was temporary. I knew we’d eventually dissolve like water. All those times together were just the universe’s way of teasing us. More like, laughing in my face.” She scoffs.

  “It sounds like you’re saying this is over, and I don’t want to hear that.”

  “What is it then? You’ve been pulling away from me for months now.” She points behind me at Naomi, and I want to punch a wall. I want to grab Emma and kiss her worries about us away, but I stand still, shocked as a good day turns into a nightmare. “And is she the ‘wrong number’ you told me about? Because it seems like I’m the only wrong one here. I am so stupid.”

  I bite my knuckles, wanting so badly to return to our little bubble, away from the clusterfuck of my past. I want the peace that Emma offered, but I’m starting to wonder if keeping her in the dark hadn’t offered me peace at all.

  But made it worse.

  “I don’t want to keep your company waiting.” She looks defeated, her eyes frowning in the corners, yet she doesn’t even know what’s defeating her.

  And us.

  Naomi’s words about Emma not understanding come back to me. She doesn’t know what I’ve gone through or how I feel. Today helped. Going to the art studio helped, but Emma doesn’t know everything.

  She doesn’t get the burning inside me for vengeance. The despair I feel that I’ll never get it. And the emptiness I feel knowing I’m here, and my sister’s not.

  Paralyzed with so many thoughts and emotions, I barely register Emma getting in her car and driving away until an arm wraps around my mid-section, hot breath on my neck. “Let’s go inside. I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue on your—”

  I grit my teeth, shaking my head as her lips meet my neck. “No.”

  Naomi runs her hands down my chest, remaining behind me, caging me in like she’s a snake wrapped around me. “I think your body says yes.”

  That’s when it hits me. Naomi is the one who doesn’t understand at all. I pull her hands away from me, scowling that I was ever idiot enough to sleep with her. Over and over. Whenever she came to town during the anniversary of Charlie’s death. Once a year, we’d share memories over drinks, which ended in my bed.

  And now I want to vomit with her here while Emma’s not.

  “You should go home, Naomi.” I walk back up toward my apartment, stopping just in front of the door, but she follows. “Go home,” I repeat.

  Her face falls in pain and anger, both of which I can understand. We found a semblance of peace in each other for a while, being able to talk about my sister without shunning the other.

  No one else would listen. I had no one to share my grief with until Naomi.

  She was my sister’s best friend and came to visit with her. At the funeral, she stayed by me.

  She gave me her number to call her when I was low.

  She came by every year to check in.

  And I grasped onto her friendship like a life jacket.

  “Have you told her about your sister? Does that girl even know loss?” She spits. “I could smell money and fairy tales on her from a mile away.”

  “That’s not Emma. You don’t know her.”

  “True, but I know you. And you need to be with someone who gets you like I do.”

  “We don’t have a future.” My gaze bores into hers, anger rising, my blood boiling at this conversation. “Look, I can never thank you enough for being there for me all these years, and I want to continue being your friend, but I can’t offer any more.”

  “Why? We never even gave us a real chance. We could be great together.”

  I laugh humorlessly. “Even if you didn’t live in New York, we still wouldn’t work. Whatever relationship we have is unhealthy.”

  “And you think she can give you a healthy one? Don’t fucking kid yourself, Ty. You know better.” She steps closer and whispers, her tone dark and chilling as she briefly touches my lips with hers, “We’re alone in this world.”

  With that, she pats my cheek, then fully brings her lips to mine like she forgives me when I didn’t ask for it.

  I want to end this.

  This is goodbye.

  Just I yank her back, I hear a small gasp.

  Everything stops.

  My heart lurches in my chest as I turn to Emma next to us, her hand over her stomach like she’s about to be sick.

  That makes two of us.

  CHAPTER 42

  Emma

  I’m about to be sick.

  Naomi and Ty kissing brings back too many nightmares, too many lonely nights with only my tears.

  I can’t unsee them, just like I can’t unsee Brant and that girl in our bed, although that image has gotten more blurry with time.

  The more time I spent with Ty.

  But now, it’s all back, except I feel like Mike Tyson just sucker punched me. Brant didn’t make me feel even half this betrayed.

  I only came back because I wanted to give Ty a chance to explain. He’s obviously going through a hard time, and I want to be there for him, just like he’s been there for me plenty of times.

  But this? Seeing him with another girl?

  It’s not something I can handle.

  We stand frozen, Naomi sneering with her hand on Ty’s shoulder like she’s won. And my very obvious tremor tells her she’s right; she has won. No matter what Ty and I have been through, all the intimacy, how he makes me feel, I can’t forgive him for this.

  “Emma.” Ty’s voice breaks. “It’s not what you think.”

  He takes a step toward me, but I move backward, almost tripping over my feet in a rush to get away from him. He lunges forward and grabs my wrist. “Let go of me,” I whisper, my eyes filling with tears.

  “Not until you let me explain. Naomi is just a friend, and she was just leaving.” He glares at her, pain still in his expression like he’s sad to see her go. And me? Where does that leave me?

  She crosses her arms, accentuating her cleavage further. Her outfit is way too revealing just to come visit a friend.

  I clench my jaw, trying to keep my tears at bay.

  Shaking her head, she lets out a sadistic chuckle as she passes us, and I hate her.

  I hate her immediately.

  In one instant, she’s made me feel weaker than I ever have. After all I’ve done to regain my confidence and strength, she comes along and crushes me with one gesture.

  With Ty’s help, of course.

  He takes both my hands in his, but I can’t meet his gaze. “I didn’t kiss her back. We were just saying goodbye.”

  “It didn’t look like a goodbye to me.” Now I glare at him. “Don’t patronize me, Ty. I’m not a fucking idiot.”

  “I—what? No, I don’t think you are.”

  “She’s the same Naomi who texted you, right? The one you lied about knowing?” His silence and the guilty twisting of his lips tell me all I need to know. “You shut me out to talk with her. I leave, then find you kissing her.”

  He closes his eyes, then runs a hand down his face in frustration.

  “I know what would’ve happened had I not interrupted. Right? You wouldn’t have stopped at a kiss. And all after the day we’ve had? Our last few months together? It all meant so little to you.” I let the tears fall, disgusted with myself that I cared so deeply for this person in front of me who now seems like a stranger.

  Disgusted that I let this happen all over again, except this time is different. I felt more for Ty than I ever did for Brant.

  The blow is ten times more devastating.

  Ty doesn’t deny my words, nor does he try to explain himse
lf further. He knows I’m right. It’s in his darkened expression and the pain in his eyes. Is that pain for me? For what he’s losing?

  Or pity for the lonely girl who fell for his games?

  I take two steps back. I can’t breathe. My chest squeezes, leaving no room for all the pieces of my broken heart. Nodding, I finally accept what I knew deep down all along but had convinced myself otherwise.

  This thing between us isn’t real. Never was.

  I walk to my car.

  He doesn’t stop me or call out to me, and I don’t look back to see if he’s still watching me. Wiping my eyes, I pull out of the parking lot.

  As I near LA, for once, I hope Kendall’s not at the apartment. I want to be alone tonight with nothing but wine.

  I need four bottles of it to make me forget Ty and his paintings. The way his teacher talked about him. How he let me into his real life, then snatched it away.

  I’ll need an extra bottle just to forget his lips on mine, his taste, and warmth.

  With a deep breath, I put my car in park next to my apartment building and exhale with relief that the lights are out. Sitting down in the living room, I put away the glass and drink straight from the bottle, watching a blank TV screen.

  And I finally let the rest of my tears fall.

  “Emma? Emma, open up.” There’s banging on the door. “Please let me in.”

  I groan, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, and realize I fell asleep on the couch. Thankfully, I remembered to put the cork back in the wine bottle. I might’ve had a heart attack had the red liquid gotten on my white rug.

  “Emma, I know you’re in there”—more banging—“I saw your car outside.”

  I make my way to the door and hear muffled voices on the other side of it. Smoothing my hair down, I yank the door open just as Ty turns back around from a scowling Mrs. Lang. “What do you want?”

  “I need to explain.” He barges in without invitation, running his hands down his jeans.

  “Please do come in,” I say sarcastically.

  “Naomi is just a friend. We share a history.”

  “A history? What does that even mean?”

  His jaw clenches, his face red with frustration and pain. So much pain. He paces the living room like he’s debating on answering me. “I can’t… I don’t even know where to begin.” He pulls his hands together in front of his face like he’s praying for the heavens to give him an answer… or Hell to swallow him whole.

  Something’s holding him back.

  And I wonder if it’s her—Naomi.

  The one he kissed.

  “At the beginning might be good,” I offer, my hands itching to pull his hands down. To pull the truth out of him.

  “My sister Charlie I told you about?” He doesn’t give me a chance to react before he whispers, “She died.”

  I gasp, covering my mouth with my hands.

  “It was thirteen years ago. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I’d seen her the week before to celebrate her birthday, and then she was just… gone.”

  “Ty, I’m so sorry.” I stand back to give him space.

  With trembling shoulders, he continues, “Naomi was her best friend. We became close. We were each other’s only connection to Charlie after that. My parents wouldn’t talk about her. My counselor tried to help, but I was too out of my mind with grief and shock and… I don’t know.” He grips his neck, exhaling in exasperation. “I saw a psychiatrist, who barely talked to me before shoving a prescription for antidepressants at me. My friends distanced themselves because they didn’t know how to talk to me. Before Naked Heat, I didn’t have anyone… but Naomi.”

  I nod, understanding the much deeper connection than I anticipated. I wait for more as Ty opens and closes his mouth, a faraway look in his eyes. His expression gives me chills like I get when Kendall makes me watch horror films, but this is so much worse.

  It’s real.

  And it’s been haunting Ty for the last thirteen years.

  “What happened to Charlie?” I ask hesitantly. “What are you not telling me?”

  “I have to go.” His voice shakes, his body on edge. “This was a mistake.”

  My eyes widen, and I pull his arm before he reaches the door. “What?”

  “I shouldn’t have come. You don’t understand.”

  “Because I don’t know what the hell is going on, Ty! Because you’re running away from me. You drove all the way over here, and now you’re running.” I pant, angry that he’s pulling away from me.

  But mostly, as his hooded gaze fixates on mine, I’m disappointed.

  This isn’t about me—I know this on some level deep down—but I’m disappointed because I finally felt he was opening up to me. To let me help. I want to help. To make him see he doesn’t have to be alone. I want him to know he has someone other than Naomi on his team.

  But he’s pushing me away.

  “You don’t know what it’s like to be haunted. To have any trouble at all,” he hisses at me, making me step back. “You walk around with your name brand stuff and your perfect hair like you don’t have a care in the world. At first, I thought your getup was armor. I thought I could relate to that, but it’s not the case. You have no worries. You’re a princess, and baby, I’m no fucking prince.”

  “You don’t know shit about me.” My disappointment grows at his menacing tone, my breath hitching as I try to contain the hurt pulsing through me like a virus. “No, I don’t know that kind of loss, Ty. And I’m sorry you do. No one should have to feel that kind of pain, but we all have our baggage.”

  He scoffs, his hand gripping the doorknob tightly, his demeanor completely different than the one he stepped inside with.

  “You want to know why I don’t talk to my family much? Because my mother’s an alcoholic. I cleaned her vomit out of her clothes for years before my aunt stepped in because my dad had completely abandoned us like we never even existed.”

  He swallows, looking at the floor, the tension in his shoulders slowly dissipating the more I talk.

  “My name brand stuff? That’s just my dad’s way of trying to buy my affections.” Tears fall down my cheeks with every secret I expose. “You know why my last relationship ended? Why, after two years, after moving across the country for him, it didn’t work out?”

  Confused, he shakes his head.

  “Because he cheated on me. Two months after I already moved out here, settled into his apartment, and enrolled in classes to finish earning my degree. He fucking cheated with his assistant, and lucky me, I got to see it firsthand. In our bed. The screams. All of it.”

  He backs away, tears in his eyes. For a moment, I think I’ve gotten through to him. For a moment, I think sharing pieces of my ugly past might help him tell me the rest of his. That he’ll let me share in his burden.

  But he stays silent.

  So silent I can almost hear my heart shattering.

  Just as I think he’s about to leave, he swiftly pulls me into a hug, his hard body tense.

  It’s amazing how someone so put together on the outside can be so broken inside, and I know that firsthand. I’ve tried for years, even before Brant, to show on the outside that I’m fine. That I’m more than fine.

  But I wasn’t.

  I’m not.

  I nod into his shoulder, letting the tears fall.

  I cry harder and harder, the longer he holds me without a word.

  Tears slide down my cheeks at our goodbye.

  Because when he turns to leave without so much as a backward glance, it’s definitely a goodbye.

  CHAPTER 43

  Ty

  I lean my head against her door, trying desperately to swallow, my dry throat making it difficult. Dry like the Vegas desert. Dry like my soul.

  I rub my chest, fighting the urge to ram my head into her door, then rear back and barrel through it with my whole body just so I can hold her. To tell her the truth. To tell her I’m sorry.

  I can’t believe I let Naomi get inside my
head and poison what I had with Emma, the one good thing I’ve had in my life besides Naked Heat.

  Then again, Emma was always temporary, wasn’t she? Even if I didn’t have baggage, she couldn’t handle my lifestyle, especially not after what she told me about her ex—the fucker.

  When she talked about him, I wanted to squeeze his pea-sized head. I don’t know the guy, but I’m sure he has a tiny head to contain his even smaller brain to be able to do that to Emma.

  I push off her door, exhaling in defeat, and slump back to my car. Once inside, I beat my head on the steering wheel before hitting it with my hand. My anger, devastation, and frustration, I take it all out on my poor car.

  My sister’s car.

  The one I’ve spent so much money on to keep it running.

  The one she drove across the country to move to New York. This car took her away from me, to the other side of the world, where I couldn’t save her.

  I couldn’t keep her with me.

  If she were here now, she’d glare at me from the passenger’s side, scrunching her nose up like I let her car get overtaken by skunks and takeout. Which would be partly true—sans skunks.

  She’d smack me for being such a jackass and ruining the best thing in my life.

  The purest thing.

  Emma.

  She was my angel. My salvation. The one to unearth me from years of being buried under crushing guilt and depression.

  The one to bring me up for air when I was drowning in a whiskey bottle.

  The one to make me feel alive again when I didn’t feel I had much else to live for.

  But I let her down. I let my sister down. I let my fears of living and getting attached hold me back from moving forward. How can I move forward? I don’t have my sister, my cheerleader.

  She’s not here, and I couldn’t even get her proper justice.

  I slam the steering wheel one last time, the sound deafening, like an echo in a gym, even though I’m in my small car.

  Peeling out of Emma’s parking lot, I drive nonstop back to Vegas, my sanctuary. The city where I can drown among nameless faces and dark corners of the world. Where no one can find me. No one there expects more from me than to beat every drinking record.