Page 58 of No Sweet Goodbyes

“You did,” she whispers. “You told me you couldn’t have me. That you wanted me… but that I wasn’t yours. And you were right. Because you don’t lie to someone if they’re yours. I’m not yours.”

“Don’t say that, Emma.” My heart cracks. “Mi amor. Por favor. No digas eso. No es verdad. Te amo.” My breath catches in my throat. “It’s not true. Please. Don’t.”

“You don’t love me, Dom.” Emma’s small voice hits worse than any bullet can. “I don’t even know you.” She slides out of my bed, wearing my shirt, and holds her hand out for me to stop when I try to go to her. “Don’t. If you touch me, I’m going to break, and I can’t break. Not in front of you. You don’t deserve that from me.”

She stares at me in the uniform that killed her brother, and I watch the love for me vanish from her eyes. “When do you leave?” She doesn’t wait for an answer before she starts grabbing clothes out of her drawer and slipping into them. “Obviously today, but when?”

I watch her, needing to see her. Needing to absorb every single moment in her presence. “This morning.”

She pauses, taking a deep breath, and I watch her back shift and her shoulders slump. I don’t need to see her face to know that she’s barely holding on. Any moment, she’ll shatter into a hundred thousand pieces, and there will be no putting her back together again.

Because of me.

I did this.

And I owe it to her to watch and suffer right alongside her.

I stand there for what feels like an eternity but only lasts a few seconds before Emma pulls herself together in front of my eyes.

One by one, I see those tiny fragments of herself that had begun to crack return. I see her shoulders move, her fingers clench into a fist, and I see her change.

I see the way she shoves every single feeling aside and I hate myself for being the cause.

She turns with an expressionless mask covering her face and waves her hand over my uniform. “Okay,” she says. “Let’s go. I’m assuming you need to be taken to your parents’ house so that you can say goodbye.” She sniffs. “They can take you to the airport from there, right? I’ll get your truck to the department.”

I nod, unable to say anything. I did not expect her to offer the ride, honestly. I didn’t expect her to do anything but walk away.

“Let’s go.” Emma leads the way down the stairs and out the front door without looking at me.

I would have given anything in that moment for her to scream. To yell. Anything that shows that she cares. The silence that fills the space between us is too much, and I want it gone.

Knowing she is about to slap my hand away, I reach across the center console while I drive as slowly as I can manage across Birch Harbor. I want to touch her.

To remind myself that she’s my reason for coming home.

When Emma doesn’t pull out of my grip, I let myself think that there is a possibility that she’ll wait for me.

That she loves me back.

That the lie won’t exist between us.

I’m so caught up in the moment that I don’t notice her tears or the way she doesn’t hold my hand back. She’s just letting me take my own comfort.

She’s wrapping herself in a protective layer, and I almost miss it.

Like an idiot.

I don’t see the truth.

Not until I’m pulling up outside my mother’s house at the ass-crack of dawn.

“I’m sorry, Emma.” I croak on the words and almost choke on the lack of saliva in my mouth.

Everything in my life feels like it hinges on her answer. On her ability to accept my apology and move forward.

“I know you are,” is all she says. Then she wipes her cheeks and opens the door.

“Please,” I call to her back as I follow her into the yard. “Please don’t leave me.”

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