Page 34 of Wasted Memories
Once the majority of it was washed away, I turned off the hose and made my way inside our house. The house that was slowly making me feel like I was drowning. But for Jett, I’d stay afloat. For him, I’d push my own feelings aside. He needed me right now.
“He’s in bed,” Brendt said, coming down the hall.
I pasted on the best smile I could fake right now, hoping he couldn’t see that I’d been crying. It wouldn’t do me or Brendt any good if I couldn’t handle my own emotions. Hiding them away was easier than dealing with them sometimes. “Thanks.”
“You don’t have to do that, Em.”
“Do what?” I feigned confusion, but we both knew what he meant.
His eyes softened. “You’re allowed to not be okay. You don’t have to be at your best all the time. You’re allowed to break, too.”
“I can’t break when I have to be here to keep his broken pieces together.”
“That’s not your job, Emerson.”
“It is. I’m not just going to leave him high and dry when he needs me most.”
He closed the distance, wrapping his arms around me. “You can’t run yourself dry in the process. Who’s taking care of you?”
I let him hug me for a minute, wrapping my arms around his torso. I couldn’t respond to his question because I didn’t have an answer. I was taking care of myself, and for now, it was working. But tonight, I broke. I just needed one night of breaking, then tomorrow I’d put myself back together, too.
Brendt took a step back, studying my face. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
I nodded, unable to form words. I was so damn tired.
He stepped past me, heading for the front door and closing it behind him. I’m sure Luke would come pick him up, but I felt bad not offering him a ride home.
I flicked on the lights in the kitchen, my eyes immediately landing on the handle of whiskey sitting on the kitchen island. My hands clenched into fists and I grabbed it with more force than necessary, untwisting the cap and tipping it over the sink, watching as the amber liquid flowed down the drain.
My ears were pounding so loud, I didn’t hear Jett come up behind me, but there was no missing his grip on my arm as he yanked me back, the bottle clattering to the floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled in my face, the alcohol on his breath stinging my nose.
“Why do you do this? Why do you drink yourself to death every goddamn night?” I screamed back. I never screamed, but God, I couldn’t hear my own thoughts over the pounding in my head.
He dropped my arm. I hadn’t realized he was holding me on my tiptoes until I stumbled back against the counter. “I work my ass off every day, I deserve a drink or two.”
“Two drinks wouldn’t put you on your ass like this.”
“Maybe if you worked a hard job and weren't just some waitress, you’d understand.”
I tried not to take his comment to heart, but it stung. I quieted my voice. Yelling wasn’t going to get us anywhere. “The people around you suffer because of your drinking, Jett. You need help.”
His hand raised, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
I shot up, gasping for breath. My heart felt like it was beating two feet out of my chest.
A hand pressed against my back, another on my leg. “Deep breaths.”
Wesley.
I was in Wesley’s house.
It was just a nightmare.
But it wasn’t. It was a memory I’d blocked out because I didn’t want to remember the first night Jett showed his ugly side, and now that I was safe, my mind let it seep back in.
My eyes found his in the dark as I tried to get control of my breathing.
