Page 43 of Splintered Memories
Slowly, her head turned toward me and those deep-green eyes collided with mine. I couldn’t read her expression, but my gut clenched. As if I knew something was about to change.
“I never thanked you for taking care of me when I was sick. You didn’t have to do that, and I don’t take what you did for granted.”
The memory of her pale face when I’d found her curled up on the bathroom floor flashed through my mind. I hated seeing her like that. What I hated more was that she hadn’t expected anyone to help her.
I licked my dry lips as I considered my next words.
“You don’t have to tell me your story, Emersyn. But I’m so sorry for whatever happened to you that made you feel like you weren’t worthy of being taken care of.”
Her eyes widened, pupils dilating as her mouth gaped. I sensed the first crack in her armor. Her eyes reddened, developing a glossy sheen. Her lungs pulled in a shaky breath, and then she let it out slowly. She didn’t let a tear escape, but it was the closest I’d seen her to crying.
I didn’t expect her to say anything in return, but there was a flicker of disappointment when she snapped her head forward and stared into the undulating flames of the bonfire.
As time slipped by, I knew I should look away from her, but I didn’t. I didn’t think there was anything else worth looking at.
It surprised me when she spoke, but every bone in my body focused on the words leaving her mouth.
“It’s no secret that I don’t get along with my father. I think I might hate him, actually. It’s not that he did anything to me, necessarily. It’s what he didn’t do.” Her bottom lip wobbled, and she sank her teeth into it. “Tristan Hawthorn has always been a busy man. He helped my grandfather run the extremely successful family business and he was also deeply involved in town politics. He was hardly ever home. He traveled a lot, too.” She swallowed hard, her delicate throat bobbing. “Which means he left us alone with my mother all the time.”
She shuddered, and a bolt of ice shot through my chest.
“I can’t—I don’t know how to explain what it was like living with my mother. She wasn’t like a normal mom. She didn’t hit us much, but she didn’t need to.” Her breaths became labored, and without thinking, I covered her hand with mine.
“You don’t have to explain anything to me.”
She nodded, but then she continued. “Even when we were little, she was strict with our discipline. I don’t remember what we did to anger her most of the time, but she said we were being manipulative and selfish. She would lock us in a room and refuse to feed us.” Her voice broke, and I squeezed her hand.
“I’m so sorry.” It was not enough, but I said it anyway.
Emersyn shook her head. “Don’t pity me.” She smoothed down her hair with her free hand. “I just—that’s why I was so weird about you being there when I was sick. She didn’t like it when we were sick and got…upset about it.”
Rage, helplessness, and utter sadness roiled within me, the juxtaposition staggering. I hated that she hadn’t had a mother who showed her the love she deserved.
“I don’t pity you, Emersyn.” I shook my head. “I’m angry for you. I’m sad for you. But most of all, I’m amazed by you. I’m amazed that you could come from that kind of abuse and become the stunning person that you are.”
She actually flinched at my words. “I’m not stunning.”
My jaw clenched. I had one hand over hers, and with the other, I grabbed her chin. Gently, I turned her head, guiding her gaze to mine. “I don’t ever want to hear you say those words again.” My voice was more intense than I intended, on the verge of a growl. “Sure, you can be a little rough around the edges to people who don’t know you. But Iseeyou, Emersyn. You care. You care so much about people who you don’t even know that you have dedicated your life to sharing their stories. And that does make you stunning, inside and out.”
There were a lot of other amazing things I could’ve said about her, but I made my point.
Her lip wobbled again, and this time she didn’t try to stop it. She stared at me in the way she had been staring at the stars, eyes wide and slightly awed.
I leaned toward her, wanting to be closer. Her scent surrounded me, floral and warm amber mixed with the scent of smoke and fresh water in an intoxicating fog. The heat from her skin burned right through my fingers and into my blood.
“August.”
The sound of my name on her lips sent a shiver down my spine.
I leaned even closer, so close her breath ghosted over my mouth and cheeks.
My lips parted, but I couldn’t think of any words to say. Nothing was in my mind except for the way her eyes shifted down to my mouth and the feel of her skin and the scent of her.
But suddenly, all of that disintegrated into a cacophony of chaos.
The noise was intense and loud, piercing the night in a barrage of explosions and simultaneous flashes. The sharp, acrid smell of gun smoke filled my nose on a gust of wind.
Then, as I tried to make sense of what was happening, the pain hit me.
