When I Was Theirs

25. Emmy

25

Emmy

I t takes me a long time to make it back up the stairs.

Every time I try, I feel the tears start again. Eventually, I stop trying and just stay where I am. Someone passes me every so often, nobody paying attention to the girl crying on the communal steps in the middle of the night.

Jared is with Ben.

My nails dig painfully into my palms as I press my clenched fists against my forehead and lean over my knees, trying to put myself back together so I can walk back in with a smile. To put the pain back.

To shove it back into the box and lock it tightly, to be faced another time.

A time that’s coming much, much sooner than I’m ready for.

I’m not ready yet.

Eventually, I manage it. My face is blotchy but clear, my eyes itchy and my throat aching, but I slip back into the apartment with a smile ready on my lips.

It fades slightly as Jared turns his head.

Our eyes meet, and I inhale.

Just for a second, he lets me see it.

The pain—

Not the pain. Pain is too soft a word for what burns in his eyes.

He blinks, turning back to Ben. But his voice is soft. “He’s sleeping.”

I take a step closer, my eyes sweeping over Ben. He’s curled up against his brother, his head leaning against Jared’s shoulder. “He’s sleeping a lot now.”

“Any medication?”

Clearing my throat, I move toward the kitchenette, picking up the washing basket to bag it for collection tomorrow. “He has a dose of dexamethasone every morning. He can’t swallow it now, so we moved to injections around a week ago.”

“And the pain?”

His voice is closer than I expected, and I jump. The basket slips from my hands, clothes spilling everywhere.

I drop down on one knee to grab them, shoving them back into the basket. “The pain is… bad.”

When I get to my feet and turn, he’s close. Jared frowns, his eyes dropping to the dirty washing. “Why are you doing this?”

I follow his gaze. “He goes through a lot of changes of clothes.”

“No.” Jared shakes his head. “I mean – why are you here ? What are you getting out of this?”

My head rears back. “What?”

He looks frustrated, but it’s nothing to the flood of icy anger that washes through my veins at his words. “What exactly are you trying to insinuate, Jared?”

I know . But I want to hear him say it.

He watches me for a moment longer before he shakes his head. “Forget it. I need to grab my bags from outside.”

I point silently to where I brought them in with me, propped up by the door.

Jared takes a single step before he whirls back, fists clenching. “He has no money, you know. If that’s your angle.”

I flinch away from his hands, backing up a step with the basket between us. But the anger surges. “I beg your fucking pardon ?”

He keeps his voice low. “A little suspicious, don’t you think? That his very own personal guardian angel rocks up just when his illness becomes worse? There’s no life insurance, Emilia. No savings. So if you’re hoping to play the grieving widow when he’s gone, you’re going to be disappointed.”

My mouth falls open.

But the words don’t come.