I splashed cool water on my face as I inspected the dark circles still hanging under my eyes. A few nights of improved sleep weren’t going to fix them, but they weren’t as puffy—a definite improvement. I didn’t like thinking about why I had become so thin or how I’d come by those sleepless nights. I didn’t even realize how much weight I’d lost until I started to come out of the deepest depression I’d ever known.
I wasn’t fixed by a long shot. Forgiving myself for Charles’ crimes was an uphill battle. Trusting Mason would take time if I ever did manage that faith entirely. The honesty between us had been tenuous since I first met him. Neither of us relied upon another easily, and we did many things wrong. That wasn’t something that repaired itself. I would run rather than walk away if I didn’t love him so much.
In addition to the weight of fixing my relationship, I still held an immeasurable sea of guilt that constantly threatened to capsize my barely floating ship. When all of this was over, and we had a chance to breathe, we would need therapy–if we didn’t die.
But I felt like myself. My name didn’t sound like a dirty word anymore. All the little broken edges of me ached, but I had the clarity I didn’t even a week before. I met my own eyes in the mirror, something I was still unused to, and looked at the woman who’d survived so much, and instead of self-loathing, I felt…
Tepid acceptance? It wasn’t self-love yet, but it might get there one day.
I had a purpose, a partner, and while I knew I would need to deal with the deeper wounds, I could eat regularly again. I could fill my lungs fully. All the danger still surrounding us left me raw and on edge, but the horrifying truth was much better than all the lies.
I walked down the stairs, not finding any of my trusty guard dogs. Walking into the kitchen, I found Rochelle's lightly touched breakfast spread waiting for everyone. I didn’t know where Mason and the guys were, but they hadn’t been through to demolish it yet.
I picked out some fruit and a few pieces of bacon before noticing there was a plate of freshly baked croissants. So I chose the crustiest one and started picking at it before I made it to the table in the breakfast nook.
I nearly dropped my pastry when I found Emma eating a bowl of oatmeal with fresh berries.
“Good morning,” I stammered, having almost forgotten the events of the day before.She slept here.
“Morning,” she smiled as she took in my apparent surprise. “Rochelle is a lovely cook and very sweet.” She gestured toward her plate.
“She’s wonderful.” I agreed as I sat down across from her. I reached for the carafe and poured myself a cup of coffee. We ate in stilted silence for a few moments before I plucked up the nerve to ask what was on my mind.
“So…”
She took a deep breath and put her spoon down before meeting my eyes. “So?”
“So, what’s going on with you and James?”
She dropped her gaze to the table and sighed. “He’s an asshole, and I’d rather not talk about him over an otherwise pleasant breakfast.” She picked her spoon back up and started eating.
I took a few bites of my food before deciding to push it, “Are you planning to stay here, or was last night about proving a point?”
Her blue-gray eyes narrowed. “I am both proving a pointandplanning to stay here,” her cheeks pinkened. “That is if that's okay with you, I mean,” she amended quietly, dropping her eyes and playing with her hair.
“I’m more than fine with it. This place is so big you could live here forever, and I may never know,andyou and I haven’t spent enough time together recently.”
“It’s not that big a place, you know. I have a lot of stuff.” She stared down at the table, “I wasn’t entirely sure how you would feel about my demand to stay here. Well, not when I was shouting it, but later, once I calmed down.”
“I’m happy you’re here, Emma. This shit is crazy, and I want you safe.”
“I’m not in any danger, you know. The library is closed, and I’m not a criminal. James should have left me at home.”
I observed her carefully, trying to figure out if she wanted to leave or not.
“I'm not sure whether that's true, but I am not a prisoner here, and neither are you. Do you want me to take you home?”
She seemed to swallow around a lump in her throat, and her eyes pricked with tears I didn’t fully understand. “Well, we can have some girl time. Right?”
“Right.” I reached over, gripping the back of her hand in a comforting gesture. “However, the presence of a certain someone here is constant. He lives on the property, so I’m not sure how you plan to avoid him.”
“He lives here!? What about his place?” her eyes widened.
“I have no idea. He and Vick have lived here since Charles Gains shot me.
She nodded, an even more concerned look settling into place at the mention of my shooter. We both looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching.
Mason walked in first. His thick blonde brows pushed together in concern. His lips pressed together, making the ordinarily plump swells look thin. Victor and James followed behind him, looking equally distressed.