Page 64 of Splintered Memories
“I told myself every lie to excuse the things she did. I was convinced that she loved you and could never harm you. I believed those lies until the day that she died and there was nothing left to fuel my delusion. All I had left was you and your brother and my fractured complacency.” My father’s eyes filled with tears, tears I had never seen before. “It’s too little, too late. I know that, but I am so incredibly sorry, Emersyn.”
My knees trembled. My brain couldn’t comprehend those words coming out of my father’s mouth. Those complicated and conflicting emotions swelled in me to the point where I thought I was going to explode.
Part of me wanted to run into his arms, but most of me wanted to push him away. I was afraid that he was probably right: it was too little, and it was far too late.
My tears continued to flow. I wasn’t sure they were ever going to stop at this point.
“I want to believe you,” I choked out. “But I don’t know if I can.”
He deflated, his shoulders hunching in on himself. “I’ve been beside myself,” he said around a sob. “I don’t know where your brother is, and then you went through that awful fire…I just, I had to see your face. Just once.”
“You’ve seen her, but I think you should go now,” August said softly.
My father looked at me as if I might invite him in. I didn’t.
He hung his head, then he nodded. As he turned around to leave, a thought struck me. It was a question that I had forgotten in the tragedy of the last week, but I needed to know.
“If you really care about us, like you say, then why were you walking around town with that despicable man during Emberlight?”
My father frowned, blinking back at me. “You mean Alex Cohen?”
“I mean the man who framed a serial killer for my sister’s murder when it was really his son who had taken her from us.” My voice shook with hatred. I hated Alex Cohen, and there were no conflicting emotions about that.
A flicker of surprise lit through me as my anger was reflected in my father’s face. A muscle ticced in his jaw as his eyes hardened. “Because,” he said, voice a low rumble, “it’s important to keep your enemies close. I know what he did, and I will never forgive him for it. But as long as he’s walking these streets a free man, I will know about his every move. And if he ever makes a mistake, I’ll be there to witness it. I will be certain the whole world knows about it until he’s behind bars, where he belongs.”
The venom in his tone sent a shiver down my spine.
My father didn’t wait for a response from me. As if he knew that was enough, he turned and walked away. I watched from over August’s shoulder as he got into his expensive, fancy vehicle and drove away.
25
August
IhadnoideawhatI was doing anymore.
In the week since Tristan Hawthorn had made a surprise visit to my house, Emersyn was different. She still buried herself in her work, but something had changed within her. Those steel walls seemed less prominent when I looked into her eyes.
She wasn’t any less fearsome. That soul wasn’t any less fiery. But there was something new stirring in those ashes. Something delicate and raw.
I didn’t know what to do.
We hadn’t talked about what else had happened before her father had barged into our space. We hadn’t spoken a word about our kiss since it happened.
It had been hard—impossible, even—not to think about it every time I looked at her. That kiss, though much too brief and charged with emotion, had awakened a hunger inside me. That hunger for her burned a hole in my stomach—in my chest. So much of me wanted totake her into my arms and revel in the taste of her, in the feel of her skin. I wanted to hear those soft noises of pleasure slipping from her mouth as it moved against mine.
But I couldn’t.
I didn’t regret kissing Emersyn. I’d never regret something like that. But I was disappointed in myself for letting everything get so out of hand.
Emersyn was my client. I’d gotten so close to her that the lines between client and friend had been blurred so much that I lost sight of my job, my responsibility. I’d gotten sloppy and unfocused.
She had lost her house because of it.
I wasn’t sure whether she blamed me for what happened to the home she loved so much, but I did. Emersyn’s safety had been on my shoulders, and I’d almost let her burn to death. If she hadn’t been in the room with me—the alternative kept me up at night, thinking about what could have been.
The fire happened because I hadn’t been on my game. I hadn’t checked the house before we went to sleep like I always did. I’d let my weaknesses distract me, and I let Emersyn down.
I wouldn’t do that again.
