Page 45 of Am I the Only One

He’s sitting up against the headboard when I step inside.

“Everything okay?”

I give him a slight shake of my head and can’t stop the tiny wobble in my bottom lip as I fight back emotions. Memories of my parents and the fear of my world imploding lodge in my throat, making it difficult to speak without crying. I try so hard to keep it together, not to crack under the pressure and show my true emotions. To always put up a brave front because, when people look at me, I want them to see strength and not the fragile girl I hide deep inside myself.

Just like my mom used to do, Luca pulls the sheets back, and without a second thought, I go straight to him. His arms are warm as they band around me, and his bare skin smells of liquor and cologne.

His fingers run through my hair. “Talk to me,” he whispers.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I hate this—this distance you insist on having.”

“I’m not distant.”

“You are,” he tells me. “This past year ... especially since you left school, you haven’t been the same.”

“How can I be the same when my world isn’t the same?”

He lifts my chin so that I’m forced to look at him and whispers, “You’re hiding something.”

My brows cinch. “What makes you think that?”

“Because you aren’t you. It’s as if you avoid me every opportunity you get.”

“I’m not avoiding you now.”

His arms tighten around me. “You may be in my bed, but you’re still hiding from me.”

“I’m not hiding.” Damn it if I don’t have to bite my lip to stop it from giving me away.

“Then tell me why you’re knocking on my door in the middle of the night? Why are you in my arms?”

I’m forced to look away from him when I feel the tears start to build. Resting my cheek back on his chest, I silently scold myself when I blink and one of them slips out, dripping onto his bare chest, which he can surely feel.

“Please, Emma. Just talk to me.”

I know I should talk to him about what is going on, but I don’t want him to worry or snoop around and possibly find something that will send him running. God, if he ever finds out what I’ve been doing these past few days, he’ll be disgusted with me. He’ll never look at me the same way again. Hell, he might even kick me out of his house. After all, people in this city don’t want to be associated with a disgrace like me.

I love Luca, and I don’t know what I would do if I ever lost him. So, I decide it’s best to feed him a truth instead of a lie.

“I feel really alone.” My words break on their way out, and he hugs me tighter.

“Babe, you are not alone,” he stresses, but he’s clueless to my truth. “It kills me to hear you crying in the middle of the night. I want to come to you every time.”

“Why don’t you?”

“Because you’ll push me away or lie and say that nothing is wrong. Tell me everything’s okay when we both know it isn’t.”

“My life is a mess right now.”

“You’re right, it is a mess. But, like you said, it’s only a mess for right now. It won’t always be this way. You’re a fighter, and soon you’ll be back on your feet.”

“What if that doesn’t happen?”

His eyes drop to mine as I look up at him, and with fervency, he promises, “It will. I will never let you fall, but you have to be willing to let me help you.”

He then drops a kiss in my hair and tucks my head beneath his chin. In the warmth of his bed, my anxiety begins to settle. Silence spans between us as we hold each other, and I think about what he’s telling me. He’s right. I shouldn’t be pushing away the one person I have to depend on. Maybe I am creating my own prison of loneliness.

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