Page 41 of Emma
She slowed to a stop and bent at the hip, her hands braced on her knees as her body trembled with exertion and emotion. The cold air caught in her lungs, sharp and stinging, as she dragged in breath after breath. Fuck, it hurt just to breathe these days.
Still…
Why now? Why her? Why this girl?
Whenever she let her guard down and allowed Freya into her mind even for a second, Emma unravelled. She thought she’d made peace with the past and with leaving her family behind, but then Freya had walked into her office, told Emma what she had never expected to hear, and every suppressed memory clawed its way to the surface.
She’d even considered calling her mum again a few days ago. The thought alone made her laugh now, but it had almost happened. Thankfully, Emma had realised what she wasthinking of doing before actually taking that step, because what could Jane possibly offer her? A few vague words? A brush-off? Another layer of confusion? Still, Emma had come so close to dialling her number.
Vanessa had tried to find the answers Emma so desperately needed. She’d quietly looked into what the school policies could potentially say about relationships between teachers and students who turned out to be related. She had tried to findanythingthat could help. But she’d come up blank.
Emma knew what the next step was. To go to the school board and ask for guidance. But doing that meant confessing why. It meant naming Freya. It meant risking everything, and she didn’t know if she could do that.
Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her shorts. She didn’t need to check who was calling her. It would be Vanessa. It was always Vanessa, checking in, holding space, but never pushing too hard.
Emma fumbled it out of her pocket and pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”
“Emma, where are you?” Vanessa’s voice was calm yet laced with concern.
“I was just running. I’m still at school. I’ll be home in the next hour.”
Emma closed her eyes as the guilt settled in. She didn’t want to keep skirting the truth. Shecouldn’tkeep doing it. Spinning in that never-ending loop of avoidance and fear. And definitely not with Vanessa. Her wife deserved honesty.
Sooner or later, she’d have to face it.
“It’s almost dark,” Vanessa said. “I thought maybe something had happened.”
“No, babe. I’m fine.” Emma swallowed. “Do you need me to pick anything up on the way home?”
“No. We have everything.” Vanessa paused, and then came the all too familiar sigh Emma was often faced with from her wife lately. “Baby, are you okay? Do you need to talk?”
Do you need to talk?
Emma hesitated. Of course she needed to talk, but the words seemed too big…too fragile to say out loud. She wanted to tell Vanessa that she wasn’t okay. She wanted to fall into Vanessa’s arms and cry until the hurt was gone. But what was the point? Nothing had changed. She was still stuck at a crossroads, afraid to take a step in either direction.
“I’m okay,” Emma said, her voice cracking slightly and betraying her. “But thanks for always checking on me.”
“You’re my wife. It’s my job to check on you.”
And Vanessa meant that. Emma could hear it in every syllable, every breath. Vanessa wasn’t going anywhere. She never had. Through the chaos, the confusion, the ache of what-ifs, she’d been Emma’s constant. They’d always been a steady presence in one another’s storms. That wasn’t going to change now.
Emma smiled at Vanessa’s words, clutching the phone a little tighter as her breath evened out. “I’ll be home soon. I promise.”
“I’m here when you’re ready,” Vanessa replied. “No pressure. Just…don’t shut me out completely, okay?”
“I won’t,” Emma said, though she wasn’t sure if it was the truth. It seemed easier to shut people out at the moment. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Emma hung up, slipped her phone back into her pocket, and dropped down onto the grass, her knees drawn to her chest. She’d run herself to the edge just to avoid the ache inside of her. The ache that seemed to pulse and intensify every time she saw Freya’s name on a register or passed her in the corridor and pretended not to notice.
It was killing her.
The pretending and the absence of words.
The distance between two people who were meant to be something more.
Emma picked at a blade of grass and twisted it between her fingers. She didn’t want to mess this up. She’d already spent years pretending the family she was born into didn’t exist. But now she’d found something good, something real, and she didn’t know how to deal with the potential of losing it before she’d even had a moment to enjoy it.
She closed her eyes and tried to picture a world where things were simple. Where she could take Freya out for dinner with Vanessa. Where it was okay to ask her about school and friends and what books she liked to read. Where she could look at her and not feel guilty for missing the first twelve years of her life.
