When I Was Theirs

12. Ben

12

Ben

“ W ill you tell me about your brother?”

I stiffen. Emmy is curled up against me, my arms wrapped around her and her cheek pressed to my chest. “Jared? Why?”

“Jared,” she murmurs. “You don’t talk about him.”

Another surge of nausea threatens, and I swallow it down.

It’s nearly time.

I manage to shrug through the pain that thought invokes. “There’s not much to tell.”

She twists until she’s looking up at me. And the strain in her face as she looks at me… it tells me I’m not hiding things as well as I’d hoped.

She hasn’t asked. Not directly.

But Emmy doesn’t try to tear it from me.

Instead, she gives me something else.

A piece of her .

Her eyes are bright, fixed to mine with a ferocity that I know means she’s preparing for battle. “He threw a pan of oil at me.”

All the air leaves my lungs in one fell swoop at the unexpected words. I sit up, bringing her with me as my hands rise to cup her face. “Emmy.”

I choke on her name. She reaches up with her hands to cover mine, but she doesn’t look away.

“He threw a pan at me,” she repeats steadily. “Because I told him I wanted to leave. I shielded my eyes, but the oil sprayed over my face. My neck. My arm.”

I’m shaking. “ Who ? Who was it?”

I’m going to kill them.

I have nothing left to lose.

A small, sad smile creeps over her face. “Doesn’t matter. He can’t hurt me here.”

“When?” I ask raggedly. But my fingers are soft on her face, on her scars.

The scars that someone put on her fucking skin.

“Two years ago.” Her hands cover mine. “A story for a story?”

Panic sweeps through me as I stare at her. “Emmy. You – that’s not—,”

“I know,” she breathes. “But whatever it is, Ben, I can take it.”

“I know that.” My words are broken, halting. “Jesus, Emmy. I know that.”

It’s not about that.

I know she’s strong enough.

Like Jared was strong enough.

I’m the one who isn’t strong enough.

Slowly, I draw her hands away from my face, shaking my head. “Not… not now. You have work soon.”

“Screw work.” Emmy gets on her knees, her eyes shining. “ Please , Ben. Let me in.”

I stare at her, and the words don’t come.

Casual.

No connections.

Nothing to leave behind.

You screwed this up so fucking badly, Ben.

“You don’t have to do this on your own,” she says gently. And I can hear the pain in her words, pain that threatens to shred what’s left of me into pieces. “Whatever it is. You’re not alone, Ben.”

“But I wanted to be.”

The words, raw and ragged, sink into silence.

Emmy stares at me, unblinking. “I… what?”

I’m shaking as I scramble away from her, off the couch and rub my hands over my face. Looking away, so I don’t have to see the hurt on her face.

My head is pounding again.

She follows me, and it only hurts more as I dodge her outstretched hand. As the pain flashes across her face.

“You should go to work,” I croak.

When she shakes her head, I swallow. Step into her.

I pull Emmy into my arms and breathe her in, my lips pressed against her hair as I close my eyes. “Go on, Em. And we’ll talk after. I’ll come and get you. I just… I need a minute.”

Her hands grip my shirt tightly. “Promise me you’ll come.”

“I promise.” I step away just enough to take her in. To look at her face and memorize it. At the dark brown freckle beneath her right eye. At the way her upper teeth slightly overlap the bottom as her lips part. Her hair, wild and free today in springy caramel curls because she's running late.

Because of me.

She came home from work because of me.

She’s disrupting her life because of me.

My voice is heavy. “I’ll do the right thing, Em.”