“I do see that!” I sob, wretched. “I love you!”
“You keep saying that, but it doesn’t make a difference.” Emerson glares at me. “It’s not enough.”
I gape at him, wordless, the harsh truth of what he’s saying finally crashing through me. He’s saying it’s not enough, but what he really means is, I’m not enough.
I’m not enough for him.
I crumble.
“Just go!” I cry, feeling desperation sweep through me, robbing me of all my last strength. I can’t bear for him to see me like this, torn apart with devastation when he never really loved me in the end. “If you can’t do this, then go ahead and leave!” I beg, “It’s all you’re good for, isn’t it? A f**king useless quitter. So go!”
I sink back to my knees, the sobs coursing through me, uncontrollable. It’s an empty ache like I’ve never known, the pain so sharp it’s like my chest is burning up with agony.
“Jules,” Emerson takes a step towards me. His voice falters. “Let me take you home.”
“No!” I scream. “I don’t need anything from you. I never want to see you again!” My voice breaks, and I crumple into a ball, shaking with a grief so black I can hardly breathe. I wish it were another panic attack—a brief spell that will pass—but I know, this won’t ever fade. This pain will be mine to carry forever.
The knowledge I’m not enough for him to love.
Not enough for my mom to live for.
I’ll never be enough.
I stay huddled there, wracked with desperate, empty sobs. Finally I hear Emerson’s footsteps walk away from me, then the engine of the truck starting. He drives away, leaving me here in the rain with my heart breaking into a million agonizing pieces. Completely alone.
And then he’s gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I surface from the memory to find I’m almost back at the house. I wipe angrily at my face, trying to choke back the tears as the chorus is unleashed, cruel and taunting in my mind.
Stupid girl. Stupid f**king girl.
What made you think it would be any different this time?
I round the corner up the driveway and then stop dead. There’s a U-Haul truck pulled up in front of the house, the doors wide open. I feel a surge of indignation. The new owners can’t be here already! The realtor only just called, she said I had until the end of the week.
“Hello?” I call, coming closer. Someone is rummaging around the boxes I set against the side of the house, full of junk to donate. I sigh, irritated by the intrusion—just when I want to be left alone. I make an effort to sound more friendly, after all, they are about to shell out a decent amount of money for the place. I move closer. “I’m sorry about the mess, but I thought I had more time.”
“It’s OK, it’s just me.” A familiar voice comes, and then a moment later, someone emerges around the side of the house.
It’s Daniel.
“Hey.” He says, awkward. He’s wearing a rumpled Oxford shirt and khakis, his brown hair glinting in the sun. He’s the last person on earth I expected to see.
My mouth drops open in surprise. “What are you doing here?”
He shrugs, bunching his fists in his front pockets. “Your dad told me, about finding a buyer. I figured you could use some help getting everything back to the city before the storm hits...”
“What storm?”
Daniel frowns. “Haven’t you been listening, it’s all over the news. A big hurricane, supposed to hit tonight. With you out by the water like this, we should get on the road before it blows through town.”
I feel a warmth flood through me, a slim ray of sunshine in the midst of my cold, aching despair. It’s so typical of Daniel, to think about what he can do to help, even after everything. All the pain I caused him. He always was the selfless one.
“It’s OK,” I tell him softly. “You don’t have to. I can manage.”
“I want to.” Daniel looks around the yard, and up at the house, taking it all in. He smiles, “It’s beautiful. I can see why you didn’t want to let it go.”
I wipe at my face again, trying to hide my tears. “I’ve got most of it packed away. There’s stuff for Goodwill, and the trash, and…” my voice is hoarse from crying, and I have to trail off without finishing.
Daniel looks at me closer, direct for the first time. His expression changes, concern flooding across his features. “Juliet,” he exclaims, hurrying forwards to reach me. “What happened? Are you OK?”
“I’m fine!” I try to tell him, but my voice breaks again. Before I can move away, he pulls me into a hug, arms going strong around my body to cradle me in against his chest.
I half-heartedly struggle, but he keeps me warm in the circle of his embrace.
“Shh,” Daniel murmurs, gently stroking my hair. “It’s OK. Everything’s going to be OK.”
I know I should pull away, but I feel myself relax against him. Even though arms around me aren’t the ones I wish so desperately were holding me, Daniel’s body is gentle, and warm. After everything that’s happened this morning, it’s a relief to sink into his solid embrace, like for a moment, I can be safe again.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against him.
“It’s OK,” Daniel says again. Finally, he steps back, holding me away from him and studying my face with a worried look. “Did something happen?” His face darkens. “Is it that guy? Did he hurt you?”