Page 83 of Free to Believe
But Emily can walk. Emily can talk.
And Jenna can’t.
“Jake, listen to me. Please.”
“The very sight of you, Emily, is enough to send me into a rage. The idea that my daughter is probably dying because I made yet another stupid fucking decision about a woman…” My voice trails off. “Just get the hell out of my sight.”
Then she does something she swore she’d never do, because as her pictures depicted, the last time she did there was a gun to her head. In the moment, it’s probably the only thing she can think of to try to break through.
She gets down on her knees, her wet eyes beseeching me to listen.
Too bad it’s not enough.
“Jacob, please,” she begs, tears flowing down her face. “Please, listen to me. I lo—”
I cut her off. “Don’t you fucking say it.Ifyou even feel what I think you were about to say, it’s apparently bad enough to kill people. Haven’t you done enough damage already?”
Turning, I push my way back through the double doors and toward Jenna’s room. Emily’s sobs ricochet down the hall behind me. I can’t care, I just can’t.
When I get there, Michelle tells me they’ve taken her down for more tests.
In an uncomfortable silence, we wait.
And wait.
50
Emily
If the pounding in my head from the wreck wasn’t causing me to be so sick, I’d have sworn I just died. I asked for it, but I didn’t know it would hurt so badly. Isn’t death supposed to be swift? Isn’t there supposed to be an end where there’s peace?
Obviously not for me. I’m meant to live a life in eternal hell where all I can do is live in a perpetual circle of love and death.
Is this what love is supposed to feel like? If so, I don’t want it. If loving means feeling this kind of pain, I want to feel empty for the rest of my life. I hope I never smile, I hope I never laugh, I hope I never cry. I never want to believe again.
A security guard walking by comes over to me since I’m frozen in place on my knees. “Miss? Are you okay?” His reaches down to help me stand. I jerk away. The last thing I want is a man touching me.
Now or ever again.
Pressing my trembling lips together, I pull one shaking leg out from beneath me. Foot planted, I press my weight forward. Stumbling, he reaches out to catch me. “Please don’t…touch me,” I croak out in a haunted voice.
“Miss, I’d be remiss if I didn’t recommend you get treatment. You look pretty banged up,” he says, not unkindly.
Pulling what dignity I have left around me, I swipe at any lingering tears. Coolly, I ask, “Do you have a phone I can use? I was in an accident and have no means to leave the property.”
Sympathy drops over his features. I don’t want sympathy.
I want to go home.
“This way please.” He holds out his arm and escorts me in the opposite direction from Jenna’s room. At this point, even though I’ll miss the child who wormed her way into my heart, I welcome every step it puts between myself and Jake Madison.
After a porter contacts a cab for me, the security guard waits with me—still obviously concerned—until I’m safely in the cab before turning and walking back into the building. I could have told him not to spend any more time worrying about me.
Pretty soon, I’ll be just as dead to Nantucket Island as I already feel inside.
* * *
I’m violentlyill by the end of the fifteen-minute ride back to Sconset. I don’t remember much about paying the driver. I’m just grateful I remembered to grab the purse the police rescued from my crushed Rover before I slid out. Several times on my way up the stairs, I sat down to let the nausea pass. I almost certainly have a concussion. Since I refused to be checked out because I was waiting for news about Jenna, I don’t know for certain. But I’d bet my life on it.
