Page 37 of Blurred Lines

For a long, tense moment, there's only the ragged sound of my breathing and the relentless pounding of my heart. Emily's face is pale, those perfect features twisted in a mask of shock and something else … pity, maybe. It scorches me worse than the harshest judgment.

"Get out," I choke out, the words barely recognizable even to my own ears. "Just get out of my sight."

She doesn't protest. Minutes later, she emerges, my shirt in her hand. She tosses it at my face before turning.

We stand still, listening to the sharp click of heels on the linoleum, then the slam of the screen door. The silence that descends is suffocating.

Finn lets out a long sigh. "Damn, Silas. That was harsh, even for you."

I scrub a hand through my hair. Emily hit a nerve closer to home than any of them will ever know.

"Or maybe you're just an idiot."

Caeleb steps in front of me. His gaze cuts to me, molten with fury. "You went too far, Sil. We all know Harvey wasn't exactly a ray of sunshine, and there was no reason to treat her like that." The words crackle with a protective streak that surprises me.

"I get you're infatuated," I tell him coldly. "I like her too. But she can't cut it when it comes to the work we need to do to get the vineyard back into shape. You know it, I know it."

Caeleb squares his shoulders, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "Not all of us can bury our feelings as deep as you, Silas," he spits back.

The words strike a chord, echoing the accusation swirling in my own head. I'm the hardened one, the lone wolf, quick to bite before I get bitten.

Then his anger softens, replaced by something almost like pity. "Maybe she wasn't the only one abandoned by her dad, Silas. And in that case, you have a lot in common. You should be empathizing with her situation, but here you are, playing stubborn and cold, like you always do."

The breath catches in my throat. Before I can find my voice, he stalks out. Finn goes after him. With not much else to do, I step out. I ignore Finn's voice calling me back and keep walking.

I have my ghost. He comes with a belt, swinging it on the bare skin of my back in too many nightmares, even now.

And Emily has hers.

Oh, if I let her in deeper, she could scar me forever.

If my heart keeps this shit up, I could lose everything I've learned about discipline. Love is for the fools, and I have no time to be foolish.

But I can't shake the sight of the hurt in those eyes, the way she squared her chin and stood up to me. I hurl a curse into the open air and take out my phone.

Emily Martin may well be the death of me.

14

EMILY

In my haste to get as far away from my late father's best friends as I possibly can, I almost run out of the house. My feet ache, each step cursing me for choosing a pair of particularly uncomfortable heels. Stupid house, stupid argument, stupid me.

The gravel road crunches with a satisfying rhythm, my only solace as I keep striding forward. I should book a cab, go back to the mansion, get some sleep. But I can't.

Rage consumes me, threatening to blight out my mere existence. Silas, his words, the way he insulted me without knowing what my life has been … it's all too much.

Emberton hasn't changed much—manicured lawns, white picket fences, too-perfect houses. Just like I remember. It's a place where I never felt like I belonged, always the outsider with the single mom and our tiny rental house.

The lump in my throat threatens to choke me. I press my palm against my sternum, as if I could force back the wave of panic. Silas's words echo in my head: "You spit on it … a treasure worth bleeding for."

He'd cut me to the core, more than he could possibly know. My phone buzzes against my thigh and the caller ID freezes me in mid-stride. Mom.

I hesitate, the screen blurring in front of me. "Hey, Mom," I answer, vying for nonchalance.

"Emily, darling, when are you coming home?" Her voice crackles through the speaker, a mix of concern and a forced brightness that sets my teeth on edge.

"I don't know yet, Mom," I sigh, the lie feeling heavy on my tongue. Where is home? The New York apartment? Or this town that still makes my stomach clench?

---