He paused for so long that she started to think he wasn’t going to answer. And then, at last—
“Everything,” he said finally. “When we were kids, you were my favorite friend. When we got a little bit older, you were just my favorite person, period. Now you’re my favorite lover. And I suppose when this is all over, you will be my favorite mistake.”
Mistake. The word sat like a rock on her chest, stealing the air from her lungs. She couldn’t breathe around it. Because in all those intervening years, she had only considered what he had done to her. The betrayal.
She had never considered what she had done to him.
Had never considered if maybe hers wasn’t the only heart broken that night.
She had assumed that there were certain things friends didn’t have to say out loud. Like, don’t arrest my dad. But the truth was, she wouldn’t have had to say that to Suzie or Luke. She wouldn’t have had to say that to Cesar. Because Suzie, Luke, and Cesar didn’t have the authority to arrest her dad, even if they wanted to.
But she hadn’t told Suzie, Luke, or Cesar that her dad was cooking meth. She had told the one person who did have that authority. The one person who would need to hear those words.
And then she hadn’t said them.
Good God, what an impossible situation she had put him in. On the one hand, doing his job and keeping her safe—keeping the whole community safe. On the other, arresting a man who had treated him like family and breaking her heart. She could have made the decision for him, just by saying those words. He would have listened. He would have looked the other way, for her, if she had asked him to.
Why hadn’t she asked him to?
Maybe because deep down, she hadn’t wanted to. Maybe under all that love for her dad was fear and exhaustion. Exhaustion from taking care of other people’s problems. Fear that there were no right answers. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to bear the responsibility of such horrible decision, so she had turned to the only person who could bear it for her.
The thought scorched her chest like heartburn. Acid rose in her throat.
Had she really wanted Eli to arrest her dad? Was that why she had gone to the one person who could?
After the first rush of grief, before the prison sentence had been handed down, she had felt the tiniest bit of relief. That it was over. That the man with the gun wouldn’t be coming around anymore. That she was safe, that her dad was safe, too. The sentence had been a shock. Eight years. She had thought eighteen months, maybe. Maybe if she had realized it was eight years, she would have said those damn words.
But she hadn’t said them, and she had lost her dad and her best friend in one blow. And Eli...Eli had lost his best friend, too. He had lost her because she had shared something with him she had no business sharing, not without thinking through the repercussions.
The night he arrested her dad, he had waited for her in her home. She had screamed at him that she never wanted to see him again. And he had just nodded and left. Didn’t even try to argue. No apology. Like it was exactly what he had expected her to say.
She wasn’t the only one who left things unsaid. Eli could have told her what he meant to do, but he hadn’t. Just don’t worry, I’ll take care of it. In retrospect, maybe she ought to have understood that I’ll take care of it, coming from a police officer, meant I’ll arrest him. But she could honestly say that in that moment, she had believed he was going to have a talk with her dad. Like issue a stern warning. She had felt a little sliver of hope, that maybe if her dad knew the police were aware of his operations, that he would be forced to quit. If the man with the gun would have even let him quit.
What would her life be like now if that night had gone differently? Would her dad have avoided prison? Would he be dead, too? She would never know, but it didn’t matter. There was no use in dwelling on what might have been, if only. If only her mother hadn’t died. If only her dad had made a different choice. If only she had used her words. If only Eli had used his.
If only, if only, if only.
That kind of thinking would eat her alive. She wouldn’t indulge in it. If there was one thing Emma was good at, it was moving relentlessly, ruthlessly forward.
It didn’t matter what might have been. The only thing that mattered was what was. Eli had betrayed her that night, but maybe...maybe she had betrayed him first.
It was a terrible, terrible thing to realize that maybe she had wanted her dad arrested. That maybe a small part of her had hoped for it, so that her problems would go away. It was a hot iron pressing against her chest. She couldn’t breathe around the weight of it.
Emma had never asked why he made that choice that night. Why hadn’t mattered. Eli was a good man and he always had been. He hadn’t betrayed her for money or personal gain. His heart was in the right place, no matter how wrong his actions were. She knew that. And it had been easier to hate him for the role he had played than to face her own.
She had never asked him why he hadn’t told her he was going to arrest her dad, why he hadn’t given her an opportunity to stop him. To work it out another way. Why he hadn’t demanded she tell him what to do.
It occurred to her now that maybe she should have asked, then. And she should definitely ask now.
But she wasn’t going to do that.
Because if she did, if she asked him why he hadn’t said the hard part out loud, then he might return the favor. And she couldn’t bear that. Even now, eight years later, she couldn’t say the hard part out loud.
So she scooped up an armful of brushes and plastic sheeting and followed him to the next room.
What was one more betrayal, anyway?