I thought he felt it too: how his eyes blazed into mine, full of fierce emotion, as if I was all he’d ever wanted in the world. The tenderness in his expression as he tucked my body against his took my breath away; the dazed wonder he gasped as he plunged into me, over and over again…
But as I think back over everything, I realize with a shiver that for all the laughing, and talking, and mindblowing, gasping sex last night, we never actually talked about anything real. The future. What the hell this is between us now. What he wants from me. Why the hell he broke my heart and walked away from me all those years ago.
My stomach twists as my mind races back, even further, over the past few days since I came to town. I pour over every encounter, every word, with new anxiety rising. What I remember robs the breath from my chest. He’s never said anything about feelings—just desire. He never said he cared about me, just that he wanted to rip my clothes off—against all his better judgment.
Maybe this is all he ever wanted from me.
My questions whirl through my head, a deafening chorus, and soon I can’t help it: I find myself slipping back, to the one memory I’ve forced myself never to revisit. That day. The one that took everything I love and tore it away from me, and I never knew why.
4 years ago…
It was after the funeral, already officially the worst day of my entire life. First the service, full of empty platitudes, then the slow procession to the cloudy cliff-top. Emerson is silent, the whole way through, but I couldn’t speak, even if I tried. We open the urn, and I watch her ashes mingle with the wind: my lovely, warm mother dissolving into nothingness right in front of my very eyes.
There’s a reception after, back at the house, but I can’t deal with it. My dad is playing the heartbroken widow, as if it wasn’t his fault, every minute of it. So I take Emerson and we drive for hours, heading nowhere, until we wind up parked under a grove of trees down a dirt road somewhere, just watching the rain splatter against the windscreen.
And then I reach for him.
I’m numb with grief. All I want is to bury myself in his body again, block out the tragedy of my life with the one person I know can make everything better. The only good thing I have left.
But he pushes me away. And when he turns to face me, his eyes are blank, like a stranger’s.
“I can’t deal with this shit, Jules.”
His words cut through me, every syllable like fresh blade in my heart. I gape at him, dazed. I don’t know where this is coming from. And today of all days?
“It’s all… this is way too heavy.” Emerson looks away. He drags his hand through his hair, then slams it against the wheel. “Fuck. I don’t know how to do this!”
“Do what?” I whisper, terrified. Emerson is the last solid ground I have left to cling to, and I can’t believe what I’m hearing.“This. You, all this emotional crap,” Emerson gestures, still not meeting my eyes. “I thought this was just a summer thing. I didn’t sign up for this.”
I gasp in shock. “You didn’t sign up for this? Fuck you!” I scream. “You think I did? My mom is dead now. Dead! You think I wanted any of this?” My yell turns to a sob, wretched in my throat.
Emerson keeps his gaze fixed outside the truck. “I’m just saying… Summer’s done now.”
“But… we made plans,” I feel the world slide out of focus. I’m falling, dizzy, and there’s nothing here to hold me up anymore. “You said, I would stay here in town with you. I’d work, and apply to art schools next year. We’d be together. You promised!”
Emerson jerks his shoulders in a shrug. “So maybe I changed my mind.”
I’m reeling when he finally turns to me again. His eyes are dead, no sign of the fierce devotion I usually see there.
“I don’t understand.” I whisper. “Why are you doing this?”
“I told you.” Emerson’s jaw is clenched. “We’ve been kidding ourselves, thinking this can last. You don’t belong here.”
“I belong with you!”My voice catches on another sob. “Emerson, please!” I beg him, desperate. “I need you!”
I reach for his arm, clinging on to the solid stretch of muscle I’ve felt pressed against me all summer long, but he shakes me off. “Don’t!” Emerson voice is harsh, and it ricochets through me like a blow.
I cringe back. “I don’t understand,” I whisper again. “You love me. I know you do!”
Emerson’s eyes flash black. “Love isn’t enough,” he tells me with an angry sneer. “Maybe when you’re older, you’ll understand.”
Tears flow down my cheeks. “You don’t mean it,” I insist. “I don’t know why you’re saying these things, but it’s not true! We’re meant to be together, you told me so!”
“I lied.” Emerson grips the steering wheel with both hands, so hard his knuckles turn white.
Suddenly, I have to get out of here. I feel the panic sweep through me, the iron bands clenching tighter around my chest. I grapple with the truck handle, then swing the door open and scramble down from the cab, gasping for air. I trip, falling to the ground, but I don’t stop, I scramble to my feet and stumble blindly into the rain.
“Jules!” I hear Emerson call after me. I fight for air, but it doesn’t come. My whole world is gone, nothing makes sense. I fall to my knees, my whole body wracked with desperate sobs.