When I Was Theirs

49. Jared

49

Jared

E milia’s face leeches of color.

I can’t breathe.

“It wasn’t like that,” she says tightly. “I didn’t steal anything, Jared.”

Fuck.

“Did they just give it to you, then?” I ask finally, dragging my hands through my hair. “Or you talked them into it? What the hell is this, Em?”

Ben would have given you everything he had. But he didn’t have anything to give.

Her head snaps back as if my words are a physical blow, and my chest tightens. “What the hell? You’re making it sound as though I’m a criminal, Jared!”

I don’t say anything. I don’t know what to say.

Tell me it’s not true. Help me understand.

My mouth opens as she stares at me. Her dark blue eyes are wide, the pupils almost blown. There’s a plea in them. But I don’t say anything, and the life there fades into dullness. The emotion wipes away. “Oh. I see.”

Cold fingers grip my heart at her numb expression.

Emilia looks at me as if I’m a stranger. As if she doesn’t know me at all.

“Wait.” Fuck, this has gone so wrong . “Em—,”

“Don’t.” She takes a step back. With the bar between us, I can’t reach her. Around us, people call for service, but Emilia ignores them.

And the emptiness in her face feels like a knife sliding between my ribs. “You promised you would believe me.”

“I do.” The words tear from my throat, strangled and desperate. “God, I do believe you.”

I’m not lying. I believe that Arron Matthews is a piece of shit that hurt her in ways I can’t possibly begin to understand. He scarred her fucking face.

But you still questioned her.

Fuck.

I put my glass down. I’ve drunk too much, the room around me slightly blurred at the edges.

She leans forward and picks up my empty glass. She turns it over in her fingers. “No, you don’t. Because you wouldn’t look at me that way if you did.”

It was only a moment. Just a moment of doubt.

She half-turns away as I search desperately for the right words. “I just wanted to understand, Em. It was such a weird thing to say. That’s all.”

“Fine,” she says tonelessly. “I’ll explain myself. Lay it all out for you, and you can make a judgment on which of us is lying. How does that sound?”

“That’s not—,” I inhale. “Look. He said a few things that just…,”

“Made sense,” she interrupts. “Everything added up, right? Add two and two together, make four? He’s so reasonable. Such a nice guy.”

“He was a fucking asshole.” The alcohol makes me too slow to respond, to voice the thoughts fighting to get out. “Em—,”

“It’s fine. Don’t wait for me tonight,” she says tightly. “You clearly have a lot to think about. I need to get back to work.”

“What? No.” My voice hardens. “I’m walking you home. Your safety isn’t negotiable to me.”

I always walk you home.

She shakes her head, her hands spreading out. “You don’t get to choose which parts of me to trust, Jared. You either do, or you don’t. Look… maybe we both need some space. We’ve been spending a lot of time together. Maybe we need to focus on ourselves for a bit.”

Her eyes drop to the glass she’s still holding.

I bolt upright. What?

“I do trust you,” I snap. “All you have to do is tell me, and I’ll believe you. It’s not hard, Em. I don’t need any space from you.”

Just tell me what happened.

Emilia studies me. Her words are slow. Precise. Pained.

“Arron’s father offered me that money as a bribe not to go to the cops. I took it, because I was scared of what he would do if I didn’t. I didn’t need it. Didn’t want it. But yes, I took the money.”

The words thunder through my skull.

Fuck.

She takes another step back. “What’s the verdict? Did I pass your test?”

“There’s no test.” Relief washes through me, clearing my head. “I just needed to know. Of course I believe you. I’m sorry.”

But Emilia’s digging into her pocket. “Hold on. Let me put your mind at rest.”

“What—,”

She pulls out her phone, her fingers flying over the screen before she shoves it into my chest. “Here. There it is. Take a good look, Jared. Evidence for the defense.”

I stare down. She’s opened up a digital banking app, the screen set to show the total balance.

$0.

“Go on,” she says tightly. Em has her arms wrapped around herself as she nods at the phone. “Scroll through. I wouldn’t want you to have any concerns about my trustworthiness.”

I don’t look down. “I don’t need to scroll down.”

She pulls the phone out of my hands, breathing heavily. “Then I’ll show you. This is a special account, you see. I only used it for all of these men I apparently used .”

“Em—,”

She’s shaking. “Let’s see. Incoming amounts – here we go.”

She twists it, showing me the payment.

“There’s four thousand there from my husband.” Her voice is raw. “I bought a lovely new necklace. It covered the bruises around my neck.”

My heart stops. Ceases to beat.

“Two thousand.” Her eyes flick to me and away. “Half for each eye. Paid for a lovely pair of oversized sunglasses. My father sent that one. I was accompanying him to a garden party, and he didn’t want there to be any questions.”

“Emilia.”

“Twenty thousand for a new bracelet. It went very nicely with my broken wrist. Arron chose it himself.”

Fuck. Fuck.

“And two hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” she says, her eyes bright. “For a pan of hot oil, and the scars in my skin. For my silence. I used a little bit for my apartment. And the rest went to the first shelter I walked past when I arrived here.”

She gave it all away.

Someone pushes into me. I rip my eyes away, taking in the bar around us. The panel of wood separating us. “Let me take you home. We can talk about this.”

The look on her face is crushing me.

“I am done with talking.” She straightens, her chin lifting. “I talked to you earlier, Jared. I told you what he was like. But all it took was a quick conversation for you to come in here and assume the worst of me. Just like everyone else.”

Her words land like a blow, and I rock back.

Go over our conversation for the last few minutes in my head.

And my eyes close. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“I believe you.” She swallows. “But you did, Jared. Why did I have to prove myself to you? Why did I have to show you my worst memories to get through to you, when he didn’t have to prove a damn thing?”

Because Arron Matthews managed to jab directly at a wound that hasn’t healed, maybe never will.

He picked Ben .

And in the process, he drove a wedge directly between us. Emilia and I.

No. You did that.

Because she’s right. I didn’t trust her. Not completely.

“Em,” I say roughly. “Please. This – this wasn’t about you. It’s on me. I can explain it. Work on it.”

“I know that too.” Her shoulders straighten. “But I’m done with being a punchbag for other people’s issues, Jared. I can’t live like that again.”

My hands tighten on the bar. “I would never hurt you.”

But Emilia’s smile is impossibly sad. “You just did.”