[Beachwood Bay 02.0] Unbroken

by Melody Grace

  But Emerson ignores me. He lunges forward, grabbing at the front of Daniel’s shirt, but this time, Daniel is ready for him. He bends over and slams his head into Emerson’s stomach, getting him in a wrestling hold and pulling him to the ground.

  I race over. “Stop it, both of you!” I cry, desperate. “Please!” But they ignore me, rolling on the ground, grappling for the upper hand. Daniel was on the wrestling team for years, but his finesse is nothing compared to Emerson’s brute power. His powerful back muscles ripple as he easily evades Daniel’s pin and flips on top.

  “You should have stayed away!” Emerson grounds out. I watch, horrified, as he lands another ugly punch in Daniel’s stomach, pinning him down and raising his fist again, ready to smash it in Daniel’s face. “She’ll never be yours!”

  “Emerson!” I scream, lunging forward. I launch myself at him, grasping on tight to pin his arms down, but Emerson shakes me off. I stumble back, tripping on the uneven lawn, and fall to the ground.

  My head hits with a painful crack, and I cry out.

  In an instant, Emerson releases Daniel and falls to his knees at my side. “Jules!” He gasps, cradling me. “Fuck, I’m sorry, are you OK?”

  I slowly pull myself into a seating position. My head is still ringing from the impact, pain blossoming out through my skull.

  “Jules? Talk to me, are you OK?” Emerson’s voice breaks with panic.

  I look up. He’s got a bloody nose from where Daniel got in a punch, and his eyes are still fevered with the fight, his breath coming fast. He reaches out to gently cup my cheek, turning my head from side to side to check for cuts.

  “Don’t touch her!” Daniel struggles up from the ground, looking red-faced and disheveled.

  “It’s OK,” I manage, “I’m fine.”

  Emerson’s face is stricken, dark eyes full of anguish. “I wasn’t thinking. I would never…Jules, you know I would never hurt you!”

  I nod, and squeeze his hand. “I know.”

  The irony rings in my ears. Of course Emerson would never knowingly lay a hand on me, but hurt me?

  It’s way too late for that.

  The two of them take my arms, and slowly help me to my feet. “I’m fine,” I say again, embarrassed by the fuss. “Really, it was just a fall.”

  Daniel turns on Emerson, furious. “Is this what you want?” he yells, voice rising. I look at him in shock. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Daniel so angry. “What the hell are you even doing here?” he demands, getting up in Emerson’s face. “Can’t you see you bring her nothing but pain?”

  “It’s OK, Daniel,” I interrupt him, stepping between them before someone can throw another punch. “Go inside a minute.”

  Daniel shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you alone with him.”

  I expect Emerson to lunge at him again, but he drops my arm, and paces back and forth by the truck. I turn back to Daniel.

  “Trust me,” I say, imploring him. “Please? I need to do this.”

  Daniel glares at Emerson again, fierce enough to peel his skin back, but eventually, he nods. “I’ll be right inside,” he says loudly. “And if he so much as raises his voice…”

  “Thank you.” I exhale, relieved.

  Daniel goes inside again, and I wait until the door closes before turning back to Emerson. He’s still pacing, his dark head lowered, fists flexing and clenching at his sides.

  My emotions are churning in a whirlwind of fear, doubt, hope, and insecurity—everything bound up in this one moment, right here. But as I look at him, I feel a strange sense of strength. I can do this; I need to know what the hell’s going on.

  “Well?”

  When I speak, I’m surprised to hear my voice come out bold and even. I fold my arms, waiting. “What is it you came here to say to me?”

  Emerson lifts his head. “I…I fucked up.”

  I tremble at the misery in his expression, a deep ache in his eyes. But I force myself to stand firm.

  “Which part, exactly?” I demand, my voice steely. “The part where you run off this morning and leave to wake up alone? The part where you lie and make up some reason for bailing? Or the part where I have to walk back all the way home like some stupid whore who was stupid enough to think that last night actually meant something?”

  Emerson flinches. “It did!”

  “Really?” I shoot back, my voice quaking now. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way to me. Fuck,” I swear, feeling the familiar sting of tears in the back of my throat. In an instant, all my resolve crumbles. I don’t want to be here yelling at him, I just want everything to be OK.

  “I don’t know what to say to you!” I beg. I reach for him, but Emerson strides away, his back turned. “Please, talk to me. What the hell is going on in that messed-up head of yours? Because I’ve tried to be patient, and trust that everything will work itself out, but I can’t do it anymore. I can’t feel like this all over again!”

  “You can’t?” Emerson turns on me with a bark. He gestures angrily towards the house. “How do you think I feel? I’m gone for a few hours, and you go running right back to him!”

  “What? No!” I cry, confused. “Daniel isn’t…I didn’t call him here.”

  “But you didn’t send him away either.” Emerson’s face is grim: closed off and remote, like all his defenses have snapped back down. The distance in his eyes sends a chill right through me. “I guess it was all bullshit, huh? All that stuff about being broken up with him. You always knew he was the one you’d choose!”

  “Stop it!” I yell, “Don’t make this about him. He’s just trying to help.”

  “Sure he is,” Emerson drawls cruelly. “I guess his money helps too, and his fancy college degree. I shouldn’t be surprised. What was that you said to me, how I’m just like my parents?” Emerson adds, and in a flash, I remember our final fight again, and all the terrible things we said.

  “I didn’t mean it,” I whisper.

  “Sure you did, and you’re right!” Emerson yells. “Just look at me, I’m nothing. I’ll always be nothing. It’s why you picked him, isn’t it? I’ll never be good enough for you!”

  I reel back like I’ve been slapped. “Is that why you left me this morning?” I demand, suddenly furious. “Do you really think that little of me?”

  “I call it like I see it,” Emerson tells me with a cruel smirk. “You picked right, with that guy. You belong with him.”

  “But I don’t want Daniel!” I scream, trying to break through his icy demeanor. “I want you!”

  My voice echoes through the yard, out through the trees and dunes, and the tall grasses that bob and bend as the sharp breeze whips around us. I stand there, shaking, in agony. If he could only listen to me! If he would only understand!

  But Emerson doesn’t flinch, and when he looks back at me, his eyes are dead behind those velvet lashes, so cold in the way I’ve only ever seen once before.

  The last time he left me.

  A storm of emotion comes crashing around me, my heartbeat roaring in my ears. “You’re doing it again,” I whisper, gripped with a dread so cold I can’t feel my arms or legs. “You’re ending it.”

  Emerson’s jaw is clenched with tension, but his posture is casual. I think I see something flash in his eyes, but then his face is set again. Determined. He gives a shrug, so relaxed that it breaks my heart clean in two.

  “Why not?” he says coolly, like it’s all just a game to him. “Fuck, Jules, I never promised you anything. I figured, this was just a one-time thing, you know?” Emerson gives me a leering smirk. “One more fuck for old time’s sake.”

  I crumble with a sickening sense of déjà vu. “You don’t mean that,” I shake my head, desperate. “I don’t know why you’re saying it, but it’s not true!”

  “Sure it is.” Emerson meets my gaze head-on: empty and dark-eyed, like a stranger. He strolls closer, a grim smile on his lips. “You know, it was fun, watching you put up a fight, trying to be a good little girl. I
bet Garrett a hundred bucks I could get you out of those panties in a month,” he adds.

  I gasp. “That’s a lie!” I protest wildly. He keeps approaching me, and I back until I hit up against the truck.

  Emerson looms closer, reaching out to trace a blazing path along my collarbone. “Sorry, sweetheart. I figured you’d give me a run for my money, but you were so hot for me, it didn’t even take that long.”

  “Stop it,” I sob, pushing his hands away. I can’t believe what he’s saying, or the cruel smirk in his smile. This isn’t my Emerson, it can’t be!

  “What? You don’t want me anymore?” Emerson’s voice is twisted and teasing. “That’s not what you said last night.” His voice drops, and he leans in closer, breath hot against my ear. “You were moaning my name,” he murmurs. “Begging me to fuck you harder. Don’t you remember?”

  I choke back a sob as he reaches to caress my shoulder. I shudder at his touch, feeling tears flow wet down my cheeks even as my body tightens with desire. I hate myself for the shivers sparking through my body, how my breath quickens just to feel his body close, and my nipples harden against his chest.

  “See?” Emerson whispers triumphantly, and I realize with a flush of shame he can feel my desire too. He pulls back, looking down at me with a leer, “Hell, I’ve got some time if you want to go another round.” He smirks. “If you ask real nice, I might even tie you down and let you suck me—”

  “Stop it!” I scream, shoving him away. I’m sobbing uncontrollably now, drowning in pain and humiliation. It all makes sense to me now, such terrible sense. That first night we met, in the parking lot at Jimmy’s, he taunted me, just like this.

  It was his plan all along, I realize, with sickening dread. I was only ever a game to him, a twisted fuck-you to our former love.

  He never cared, not for one moment.

  It was all a lie.

  “Aww, c’mon,” Emerson taunts, reaching for me again. “You know you want me.” He takes hold of my hoodie zipper and starts to pull it open, but something in me finally snaps.

  “Don’t touch me!” I scream, shoving him away again. I reel back, out of the circle of his embrace—and all his treacherous lies. “Don’t you dare touch me again!”

  There’s the sound of a door slamming open, and then Daniel comes hurtling out of the house. I can barely see through my anguished tears as he plants himself between me and Emerson, one hand on my arm. “You need to get the hell out of here,” he orders Emerson with a growl.

  “Just go!” I sob, feeling utterly broken. “Please, go!”

  I wait, with some small, wretched part of me hoping that shutter in his eyes will crack, and he’ll take me in his arms again and tell me this is all some terrible mistake. But Emerson

  just backs away. “My pleasure,” he spits, and walks away to his truck. The engine starts, and then he backs out, tires screeching as they skid on the dirt road.

  He’s gone. He’s left me again.

  Stupid fucking girl.

  I watch the dust fly on the dirt road in the wake of his truck and gasp for air. It takes everything I have not to sink to the ground right there in the front yard.

  “Juliet.” Daniel holds me up. “Look at me, what did he say?”

  I shake my head, pulling away. “You too. I need you to go.”

  “I’m not leaving you like this!” Daniel protests.

  I take a deep breath, and force a smile on my face. “I’m fine,” I lie to him, through a clenched jaw. “I want to be alone.”

  “Juliet…” Daniel protests. I stand firm. I have one last reserve of self-control, but it’s fading fast. I just need him to be gone now, before the grief takes me over completely.

  “Please, you’ve done more than enough,” I insist, pushing him towards the cab of the van. “Take the U-Haul and get on the road. I’ll finish up here, and follow you to the city in a little while.”

  He wavers by the driver’s side door, and he doesn’t look convinced.

  “It’s OK,” I say again, even though everything in my body is screaming a different story. “There’s nothing here for me anymore,” I tell him. “I’m coming home, I promise. I just need a moment alone, to say goodbye.”

  Slowly, Daniel nods. “I don’t like this,” he warns me, climbing up behind the wheel.

  “I know, but you’re going to do it anyway.” I reach up on my tip-toes, and drop a small kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.”

  I close the door behind him. “Call me when you get on the road,” Daniel warns me, through the open window. “And don’t leave it too late. The storm will be here soon.”

  I nod. The winds have picked up, and the sky is completely overcast with dark gray clouds. Down by the beach, the water foams at the shore. “I’ll call. See you in the city.”

  He backs slowly out of the drive, and then is gone. I’m alone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I feel the tell-tale hot prickle of panic burning across my skin, and my breath comes faster in shallow gasps. I shake, desperate to keep it together, but I can’t hold it back. It’s true. It’s all so true. It took everything I have to pull myself back together after Emerson’s last betrayal. Now, all these years later, I thought I was so much stronger, but here I am, desperately crying for him all over again.

  He never really loved you.

  The panic rises. I race across the lawn and fumble with the door. My hands are shaking, and it takes me a couple of tries until I finally get the door open and stumble into the house. I hurtle blindly through to the kitchen, sweeping at the counters and ripping at my belongings until I find my purse and the tiny vial of pills.

  One, two, three are left.

  I shake them all into my palm and slip them under my tongue.

  I go to the sink and turn on the faucet, gulping the cold water straight from the tap. Then I slide to the floor with my back against the cabinet and clench my eyes shut, waiting for the nightmare to end.

  “Please, let it be over,” I whisper to myself, rocking back and forth. “Please let it be just a dream.”

  I can see it in my mind: how this all was supposed to go. I wake up back in the cabin this morning, with Emerson wrapped around me. He whispers sweet things in my ear, and tells me how much he loves me. How he’s sorry for last time, and will never make the mistake and hurt me, ever again. How we’re going to be happy together, always. And then he pulls me into a long kiss, his hands sliding lower down my body until we’re gasping and moaning all over again.

  Together. Happy. Safe.

  But it’s not real.

  I stay there crying on the kitchen floor until my head aches and my throat is raw. I weep for the teenager who had her heart broken, and the stupid girl I am now, hurtling into that same disaster zone as if it would work out any different. I weep for all the hopes and dreams I had last night, nestled safe in Emerson’s arms, and the cruel slap of reality now in the harsh light of day. I weep for the twisted cruelty in his gaze, as he teased and touched me, and how my body flared to life under his fingertips all the same.

  I weep because I love him, I’ve always loved him, but that’s never enough. I weep until I’ve got nothing left in me, until I’m numb and emptied out with grief, and I can feel the slow drag of chemical buzz snaking through my veins.

  I take a shaky lungful of breath, and open my eyes to find an empty house, silent and still. My heart-rate is slowing now, and that thick sense of calm is sweeping through me, fuzzy and detached. It’s a false equilibrium, I know that, but for the first time, I’m glad for it. Anything to stop the darkness rearing up and dragging me under completely. Anything to stop me falling apart again.

  There’s nothing left here for me now.

  I pull myself to my feet, and find my purse and jacket. I stuff the last of my belongings in a grocery sack, and look around the house. Soon, all this will be rubble.

  I take a long moment on the front porch, just breathing in the scent of rosemary and sea air. Then I lock the door behind me, load
up the car, and drive out of Beachwood Bay for the last time. Past the harbor and Jimmy’s Tavern, past the worn-down tourist stores on Main Street, past the public beach, now deserted in the howling wind. Rain starts to spatter at my windscreen, and I feel relief that I’m on the road early enough to avoid the worst of the storm. It’ll take me a few hours to make it back to Charlotte, but at least I’ll be more sheltered inland, away from the ocean.

  I’m driving over the bridge out of town when my cell starts to ring. Lacey.

  “Hey babe,” I answer, putting the handset up to my ear, “what’s up?”

  “Daniel called,” Lacey says, her voice thick with worry. “He told me…”

  “That it was all just a sick game to Emerson?” I finish for her. “Yeah, I was there.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Lacey tells me, “I know how much he meant to you.”

  “My mistake, huh?” I say, hollow. I’m wrung out, all the turmoil of emotion receded like the tide, leaving nothing but blankness in its place. An empty shore. I sigh. “Guess I should have listened to you.”

  “Babe…” Lacey sighs. “It’s not your fault. You weren’t to know he was some kind of fucking twisted asshole—”

  “Don’t.” I cut her off.

  “You’re defending him?” Lacey’s voice rises in outrage.

  “No. I’m not, I just…I don’t want to talk about him anymore. I’m on the road now,” I add. “I’ll be home tonight.”

  “And then we’ll go get falling-down drunk.” Lacey declares. “And eat our weight in ice cream. No, scratch that, this calls for the serious shit. Gelato!”

  “Sounds good to me.” I manage a faint laugh. Then I catch sight of a petite figure ahead of me on the highway, heading towards me, in the direction of Beachwood. The girl is huddling and braced against the winds, wearing a thin hoodie pulled up over her head, and a short skirt with high-heeled boots, like she wasn’t planning to be out walking. As I drive past, I catch a glimpse of her face: it’s Emerson’s sister, Brit.

  “Fuck,” I swear, speeding past her.

  “What is it?” Lacey demands, still on the other end of the line.