Unbroken (10 page)

His eyes flash up. A twisted smile curves on his lips. “No,” Emerson says, his tone dry and arch. “But your timing leaves something to be desired.”

“I didn’t…” I stutter. “I couldn’t…” But words are useless. What can I say, to explain the power he has over me, overwhelming,
mindless
—how one touch could send me hurtling over the edge, in total freefall, not even thinking for a second about the boyfriend I have waiting for me. The man who loves me, and trusts me…

Now Emerson’s touch isn’t blinding me with desire, the cold truth of what I’ve just done comes crashing down over me. I flush with shame and guilt, quickly scrambling up from the couch cushions and yanking my clothes back into place. I fumble with the buttons Emerson just pulled open, burning up with guilt.

How could I do this? How could I be such a terrible girlfriend? To lose my mind and all my loyalty in one reckless swoop—with the one person I swore I’d never do this with again!

“You need to go.” I tell Emerson, shivering. The tension between us in the room is dangerous; I can still feel the blazing trail his tongue left along my stomach. I shake my head, and take a few more steps away, as if distance between us will somehow erase the last ten minutes. “You need to go, now!”

“Whatever you want.” Emerson stares at me, cryptic, then turns to leave.

I cautiously follow him out to the front porch. The night air hits me, cold against my skin. I wrap my arms around myself. My whole body is throbbing, flushed and sensitive, still aching with the release denied. I hug harder.

“I won’t…” I start to say, then stop, to correct. “I
can’t
see you again. This can never happen, you understand?”

Emerson gives me a curt nod.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, my voice twisting. And I am. Sorry I came back, sorry I dragged up all these old memories, sorry I don’t have the strength or willpower to ever be just friends with this man.

But not sorry you kissed him,
a rebellious voice inside my head whispers.
Not sorry you got to taste him, one last time.

Emerson gives me one last look, then he slowly climbs down the porch steps and walks away into the night.

Despite everything, I feel an ache watching him go.

But he only makes it halfway across the lawn before he stops, and turns back.

Our eyes meet across the dark. My heart catches, and something shifts in his expression.

“Fuck it,” he swears harshly and strides back towards me. He covers the distance in a few short steps, and I barely have time to think before he grabs me, lifting me up and slamming me back against the doorframe as his lips come crashing down on mine again. I’m reeling, lost to him all over again, but this kiss is different, more than just desire. His mouth consumes me, harsh and devouring, as if he’s trying to brand himself on my very soul.

I surrender. I fall back, helpless under the onslaught, drowning in the dark velvet taste of him, until finally Emerson drags himself back, panting.

“You’re mine.” He growls, his breath hot against my face. My legs give way, and he holds me up, gripping my jaw so I have no choice but to stare up into his eyes. To lose myself in them.

“You’re mine,” he says again fiercely. “Not his, not anyone else’s. You can try and pretend you don’t feel it, but you do. You’ll always be mine.”

His eyes burn into mine, demanding, and I know with a terrible clarity, that it’s true.

I belong to him.

The realization sends a fresh shard of guilt splintering through my chest. He’s right. I’ve always been his. If he picked me up right now and hauled me upstairs to bed, I wouldn’t resist for one second. I would be his, completely, to hell with Daniel and every promise I’ve made.

But what does that make me?

Emerson drops one final, searing kiss on my lips, and then stalks away. I sink against the railing, clutching on for dear life as I watch him climb up into his truck and start the engine, the headlights cutting through the night. He backs up and drives away, the lights fading as he disappears into the trees.

I’m left alone on the porch, body burning with the imprint of his hands; lips swollen from the force of his kisses. I feel more wretched and guilty and confused and alone than I ever have before.

What the hell am I going to do now?

CHAPTER SIX

I spend another night not sleeping, restlessly dismantling a guest bedroom into boxes, but nothing can erase the memory of Emerson’s searing kiss. It’s like he’s still lingering there in the shadows of the living room, or out on the porch, in the front yard. I can’t get the image of him out of my mind: the way he looked as he grabbed me with those powerful hands, growling low and sexy in my ear.

Mine.

I don’t know what to think. He was the one who ended things! He was the one who shattered my heart, four long summers ago. And now, it’s like he wants me all the same—right when I’m not his to take.

I’m so confused, I can’t take it. By the time the sun rises, I’m on the road: heading back to Charlotte as fast as my Camaro will take me. I don’t even wait around to meet Lacey’s walk of shame, I just leave her a scribbled note on the counter, throw my duffel in the backseat and get the hell out of town.

I half expect Emerson to find me and stop me somehow, and it’s not until the ‘
Welcome to Cedar Cove
’ sign is receding in my rearview mirror that I let out a slow sigh of relief. My hands are clenched tight around the steering wheel, and I flex them, trying to relax. I know it’s a coward’s way out, to just turn and run, but I don’t know what else I can do. I can’t stay in that town a minute longer, not when all it takes is one look from Emerson to undo the last four years healing; when all it takes is one touch for me to throw every promise out the window.

To come undone.

My phone buzzes with a new text message. I pick it up to check the screen.

Jules, we need to talk. CALL ME.

I’m coming over, this is crazy.

Where r u? Ur not here. Call me.

Emerson.

He’s been texting since 5AM, calling too. I don’t know where he got the number—through Lacey, maybe—but it doesn’t matter. He’s the last man on earth I need to talk to right now. The phone buzzes again in my hand, and I’m about to hit ‘decline call’, when I see the caller ID is Lacey.

I pick up. “Hey.”

“Hey, she says!” Lacey exclaims, her voice loud down the line. “What the fuck happened? I come home, and there’s nothing but a note. ‘Back in Charlotte. Jules, tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s fine.” I lie. “I just, needed to get back to the city. How was Garrett? Did you have fun?”

“Don’t change the subject with me, missy.” Lacey isn’t taking my bullshit for a second. “And for the record, guys with beards should never give head. It’s way too scratchy. But back to you and your vanishing act. Details, stat, now.”

I sigh, easing my foot off the gas a little. “Lace…”

“It’s Emerson, isn’t it?” Her voice darkens. “I knew I shouldn’t have loaned my phone to Garrett. What did he do?”

“It’s not him.” I tell her, miserable. I see an exit up ahead with a gas station, so I shift lanes. “Hold on a sec,” I tell her, putting the phone aside as I take the exit and turn off, pulling in to park by the gas station store.

The lot is empty. I pick up the phone again. “OK, I’m back.”

“What happened, Jules. Did Emerson try something?”

“It’s not his fault, it’s mine.” I take a deep breath, and admit the terrible truth. “Oh, Lacey, I don’t know what to do. I cheated on Daniel.”

She gasps. “Juliet! You slept with the ex?!”

“No!” I yelp quickly. “God, no, nothing like that.”

I don’t say how close we came, but I feel the shame anyway.

“I don’t get it?” Lacey sounds confused. “If you guys didn’t fuck, how did you cheat?”

I pause. “We kissed.” I admit, feeling another twist of guilt in my stomach.

“Like, below the belt?” Lacey prods.

“No.” I reply. At least, not technically. “We just made out. But Lacey, it was… epic.” I sigh, staring out at the row of pumps and tire compression checks. “I’m a terrible, awful, slutty monster of a person. What am I going to do? Daniel’s going to hate me for sure.”

“Woah, woah, back up.” Lacey orders me. “First of all, making out with a guy is so not cheating.”

“It is to me!” I protest.

“Details,” Lacey dismisses me. “But more importantly, why the hell would you tell Daniel any of this, are you insane, or just a masochist?”

“But, of course I have to tell him.” I blink. “Lacey, I can’t lie about something like this.”

“Why not?” she challenges me. “Listen, think about it, Jules. Daniel is perfect for you, anyone can see that. Do you really want to screw everything up over what, one stupid little kiss?”

My make-out with Emerson may have been stupid, but there was nothing little about it.

“I don’t know,” I murmur, “Lacey, I feel terrible.”

“And that’s what makes you a good person.” She decides. “Answer me this: would you have cheated on Daniel with anyone else?”

“God, no!” I exclaim.

“And would you have made out with Emerson if you hadn’t been back in Cedar Cove?”

“Never.” I vow fervently.

“Then you don’t have a problem.” Lacey insists. “It was one minor slip-up—being back in town, all the old memories… It’s not like it’s going to ever happen again, right?”

“Right,” I echo quietly, even though I have no idea if that’s true. “But Lacey, lying to Daniel…”

“I know, it sucks,” she agrees. “But if you tell him, you’re only hurting him. And for what? So you can get the guilt off your chest? That’s just selfish.”

I don’t reply. Part of me knows she’s just making excuses, but the other part of me can see the sense in what she’s saying.

“Emerson’s in your past, right?” Lacey prompts me, her voice cutting through my indecision. “Daniel’s your future. Why would you want to screw that up? Listen to me, babe,” she adds, “This thing with Emerson was probably inevitable. One last go around, you know? To get him out of your system. And now you have, you can move on. Simple.”

I let out a long breath. “Thanks, Lace.”

“Anytime.” I can hear the grin in her voice. “So, are you coming back?”

“I don’t know.” I reply. “I haven’t really thought that far.”

I didn’t think at all: my contacts are still on the bathroom sink at the beach house, my textbooks still piled up in the guest room. I didn’t even bother to lock up right, I just got in the car and drove.

“Well, you mind if I stick around a few days?” Lacey asks. “I could use the vacation before finals, and the, uh, relaxation.”

I feel myself smile, for the first time all day. “I thought the beard was a deal-breaker.”

“He’s going to shave,” Lacey replies, laughing. “I figure we can give it another try.”

“Sure,” I say. “Stay as long as you like. I’ll call you when I know what I’m going to do.”

“Drive safe,” she tells me. “And Jules?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” her voice is soft with sympathy. “It was just a kiss, OK?”

“Love you.”

I hang up and toss the phone onto the passenger seat. Just a kiss? I know what she’s trying to say, but Lacey wasn’t there last night. Calling what happened with Emerson ‘just a kiss’ is like saying I
just
got shot in the heart, or
just
stepped off a cliff. There’s no ‘just’ about it.

Lacey means well, but she hasn’t helped ease the terrible weight of guilt I’ve got crushing down on my ribcage, constricting my lungs tighter and tighter…

I gasp, quickly rooting through my bag for the little vial of pills. I don’t want to take one, but I can feel the anxiety building, and the tell-tale skitter of my heartbeat speeding up in my chest. Warning signs of what’s to come. Hating myself, I slip one of the pills onto my tongue, and take a swig of water to wash it down.

Almost immediately, my heartbeat slows, just from the knowledge that I’ve got things under control.

I exhale slowly.

It’s a vicious cycle, I know: the pills make me feel calmer, just sitting there in my purse, but I’m never going to get over these panic attacks if I can’t find a way of controlling myself without them. It feels like I’m failing, somehow. Like my body is out of my control, and it’s a weakness that could spell disaster for me one day.

Remind you of anything—or anyone?

I put the car back in drive, and circle back out to meet the highway again. For a moment I think about heading back to Cedar Cove, but then I flash to Emerson: his lips branding mine with their passion. There’s no way in hell I’m ready to face him again, so I turn onto the northbound lane, and keep driving.

The miles pass. I’m still caught up in guilt and confusion, but now Lacey’s added a new nugget of indecision to all my worry. As I leave the coast further behind, heading towards the city, I find myself wondering if maybe my best friend is right. Maybe I shouldn’t tell Daniel. What good would it do now, anyway? If Emerson really is in my past, then how will dragging it all up again make any difference—except from wrecking the future I’ve worked so hard to build?