Page 30 of Splintered Memories
I swallowed down the frustration, softening my expression. I leaned over her desk, pressing my palms against it. “Emy—”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped, looking away.
“Emersyn.” I sighed. “I’m really—”
“You should go.” She cut me off. “I have a lot of work to do and you’ve been down here long enough. I need to focus.”
She didn’t seem to have a problem focusing, but I wasn’t going to win this time. That sharpness in her tone sliced right through me.
Giving her one last look, I grabbed my computer and walked to the stairs leading up to the main floor of the house. She was already working again, her movements fast and flustered. Her eyes remained cold and hard, zeroed in on the desk before her.
But under all her bravado and stoney exterior, pain radiated from her like a hot, infected wound.
What happened to you, Emy?
My jaw clenched. I didn’t want to leave, but my presence would probably make things worse. I stepped onto the bottom stair, but I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t leave her down here alone without saying it.
“I’m sorry,” I said, my words quick before she could stop me. “I’ll figure something out for Emberlight.”
She tensed but didn’t look up. Her jaw clenched.
I took the next step up, but I wasn’t quite done.
“I might not deserve it yet,” I whispered low, “but I’m going to prove to you that I can keep you safe.”
11
August
Threeofmybrotherssat in Emersyn’s living room. Two empty pizza boxes were left on the coffee table after we’d devoured them. Emersyn was still locked down in her studio. I expected her to stay there until later in the night, like she usually did.
Emersyn’s home was nice. Big enough for the four of us—our youngest brother, Reid, was home sick—with plenty of space in the living room. A sectional and a couple of chairs were centered toward the fireplace on the right wall. Emersyn’s style was modern with a cozy twist: lots of iron accents mixed with warm wood tones and bold, moody colors. It was far different from the Victorian home I’d grown up in, but I liked it. It suited her.
Graham set his beer on the end table next to the leather chair he was seated in. “You’re on edge,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
I bristled from where I leaned against the wall, one hand in my pocket while the other held my beer. I thought I’d been doing a decent job of looking normal, having a casual night of pizza with my brothers.
Graham was a forensic psychologist by profession and always had a knack for reading people. He saw the things people tried to hide.
I took a slow swig of my beer. It was good, stout without being too bitter. Fox had brought it from the local brewery.
“Today was more eventful than I’d planned for,” I grumbled.
Fox straightened from his seat on the sectional. I was used to seeing him every day in the office, and even though it had only been a few days of me being on this new job, I missed him. From the look my twin was giving me, he wasn’t happy that I hadn’t told him what had happened.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when I didn’t elaborate.
I stared down at my boots. “Emersyn was attacked.”
A beat of silence.
“But she’s all right?” Graham said.
I lifted a shoulder. “Physically, sure. She hit her head, but—” My hand tightened around the beer bottle in a vise so tight it could’ve shattered. I quickly told them the details of what happened, how she’d snuck away and was cornered in the alley. “She was threatened. Some bastard said she had to delete her videos or else he’d come for her again. That she wouldn’t walk away next time.”
My stomach roiled, heat flaming in my chest at the thought.
“What do you need us to do?” The deep, gruff voice came from my oldest brother.
