Broken by Love (The Basin Lake Series Book 2)

by Stephanie Vercier

  Take that Thatcher.

  After waiting in line for forever, I’m finally done with the ladies room and on my way out when I catch sight of someone I’d never wanted to see again.

  Ike.

  For a few seconds, I tell myself it’s not him, but the sleazy looking guy in a vintage button up, shaggy hair and skinny jeans with his arms hanging over some girl is most definitely Ike. Angela and I aren’t the only ones good at getting into twenty-one and over places, apparently. I do my best to move out of his line of sight, but it’s too late.

  He sees me.

  “Emma!” He slides his arm off the girl he’s with and places himself between me and the opening in the hallway.

  “Hello, Ike,” I say, all of the pride I’d felt earlier beginning to drain out of me.

  “Give us some space, doll,” he says to the girl he’s with. In response, she gives me a nasty glare and then disappears. Just like that.

  “I need to get back,” I say, taking a step forward before he blocks me.

  “Hey, I just want to talk,” he says, looking so sure of himself, as if he thinks I’ve missed him so much that I’ll transform into putty for his hands.

  “We aren’t in an alley,” I remind him in the clearest, strongest voice I can muster. “You try anything, and I’ll kick you in the nuts… or scream if that doesn’t work.”

  “I’m not going to try anything,” he says with a crooked, almost offended grin. “All I want is a chance to apologize, to give us another chance at making something happen.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Are you serious, Ike? After what you did in that alley? After what you did for the entire time we dated? Why in the world would I want to date a guy who cheats on me as much as you did?”

  “Whoa.” He puts his hands up. “Maybe I was a little immature about things, but I’ve changed. Give me another chance. I can be faithful—I promise.”

  “Do you even believe that? I’m sorry, Ike. I’m just not that desperate. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get back.”

  JOHN

  “Stephen mentioned something about selling the house,” Denny says while we’re waiting for Emma to get back.

  “Really? I thought he loved the place.”

  “He mentioned wanting to make a killing while the market is hot and maybe getting a condo downtown.”

  “That would suck,” I say, though I’d been thinking about asking Emma if she’d like to get a place of our own, so the timing might not be all that bad.

  “You’re telling me.” Denny looks more put out about it than I’d be. “But maybe you and I could get a place… and Emma too.”

  I raise my eyebrows at the suggestion. “Yeah, I don’t know. You don’t think that would be a little awkward?”

  “I’m capable of controlling myself, John,” Denny says, looking offended. “Emma and I have been getting along just fine.”

  “We can think about it,” I offer, craning my neck toward the restrooms. “Emma’s been gone a while, hasn’t she?”

  “Uh, I guess,” Denny shrugs. “Those lines can get pretty long.”

  “I’m just going to check on her.”

  “Okay… sure, suit yourself.”

  I’m up and out of the chair and heading toward the restrooms in the very back of the restaurant, not wanting to be stalker-ish, but the gut feeling that she might need me isn’t going away.

  On my way, I nearly get into a fight with a guy who doesn’t seem to want to move out of the narrow pathway between two tables. I think he’s roid-raging, but thankfully his girlfriend calms him down and pulls him out of the way. With that obstacle down, I turn a corner into the hallway leading to the restrooms, catching sight of Emma and about to call her name when I see him.

  He’s the guy from the alley.

  Ike.

  The ex-boyfriend.

  Now I’m the one raging, ready to tear him away from her.

  Emma has her arms crossed, and when she catches sight of me, she looks both hopeful and like she’s been caught doing something wrong.

  “John,” she says as soon as I’m close enough for me to hear her. “Ike was just leaving.” She throws a harsh look to the guy who is the exact definition of the d-bags Court and Meg had mentioned.

  “Was I?” Ike stands tall and literally puffs his chest out as I move to Emma’s side and put my arm around her waist. “I happen to be enjoying this little catch up session.”

  “I’m sure you are,” I say, my voice hard and annoyed. “But you’re done, okay?” I make a move to pull Emma with me and away from Ike, but she offers some resistance I wasn’t expecting.

  “You leave me alone,” she says to him, holding very firm. “I don’t ever want to talk to you again, even if you just bump into me.”

  While I’d wanted to be the knight in shining armor, telling Ike to stand down, I’m proud of Emma for making that stand herself.

  “Wow,” Ike says as Emma begins to move along with me. “You tell him about what you did when you were sixteen?”

  Emma freezes, then shakes her head. “Shut up, Ike.”

  “She tell you?” Ike is asking me, and I want nothing more than to beat that shit-eating grin off of his face.

  “What Emma tells me is none of your business.”

  “Okay, yeah… sure. I’d do the honors myself, but honestly I think it’s better if it festers. She’ll have to tell you at some point, and man oh man, it’s going to be good.”

  I pull Emma along with me, having learned a long time ago that continuing that argument would have only fed into Ike’s sick sense of pleasure.

  “Would you like to go home?” I ask her once we get back to the table.

  “Everything all right?” Denny stands up, a concerned look etched on his face.

  “I don’t want to ruin your night,” Emma says to both of us. “But, yes, I’d like to leave.”

  “You guys go,” Denny offers.

  “Thanks man,” I say, grateful that he has our back even if he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on.

  Emma is silent as we leave the bar and get into my SUV. I don’t push her to say anything, but after we’ve driven for a few minutes toward home, I can’t hold back.

  “I just want you to know that you can tell me anything,” I say as she quietly looks out the passenger window. “I don’t know what happened there with that asshole, but there’s nothing you could say to me that would make me feel any differently about you.”

  She turns her head slightly toward me, and even in the darkness of my SUV cab, I can see her eyes welling.

  “Emma…” I reach for her hand and then pull off into the first parking lot I see. “Tell me, babe. What is it that you think I won’t understand?”

  “I’m just not ready,” she says, her chin wobbling.

  “Not ready for what?” I place my hand under her chin to steady it and wipe a tear that is running down her cheek.

  “For you to think of me… differently.”

  “I don’t know how you could think that.” I bring my hand around her back and pull her close to my chest. “What do I have to do to prove to you how much I love you?”

  “Nothing,” she says. “I already know how you feel, and I feel the exact same way, but I’m not sure love can conquer everything.”

  “It will for us. Please don’t pull away from me out of fear.”

  All she does is nod and rest her head against my chest. When we get back on the road, she at least doesn’t ask to be taken back to her mom’s condo. I consider that a win, and, once we get home, I hold her especially tight in bed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  EMMA

  It’s been a week since my run in with Ike, a confrontation that set me back with John when I’d been feeling so good about myself and my ability to rise above the entire Mr. Thatcher mess. I’d believed John when he said he’d accept whatever was in my past, but could he really if he knew the whole truth?

  There were several times that I’d considered tell
ing him, once while we were sitting in his bed and talking about how so very long ago high school seemed, even for me, and the other when we’d gone for a walk around Greenlake and had entered into a few minutes of heavy silence where it felt as though I was finally meant to tell him. But both times, I’d thought better of it. John might indeed accept my past, might even still love me in spite of it, but doesn’t he deserve better? Shouldn’t he be with a girl who doesn’t have sleazy exes popping out of the woodwork and heavy baggage to go along with them?

  I’m thinking about this very thing when I get a text from my dad at work.

  Emma. I’m free this afternoon if you’d like to get together. Let me make some things up to you. Dad.

  I scoff at first, turning my phone facedown and attending to a customer that I end up selling a two-thousand-dollar handbag to. After ringing up the sale, I turn my phone over and sigh. I’d like to just ignore him, but he used to be a real presence in my life, one I still yearn for. I type out a quick response:

  Sure. Let me know where. Since I don’t have a car, might be easier if it’s downtown… xoxo

  I’ve sent the message before I can erase the “xoxo.” When I was a little girl, I used to write short notes for dad and put them in his change jar or stuff them in his work uniform pockets. They’d say things like, “I love you Daddy,” or “Will you take me to the zoo on Saturday?” or “I got a C in math. Don’t be mad at me.” I stopped writing those little notes when I was eight or nine, and the last time I remember signing anything with an “xoxo” was the letter I’d written to him after everything that had happened with Mr. Thatcher, asking him to forgive me, to still love me as his daughter.

  I’ll pick you up at the condo at 4. Will that work?

  I hesitate before I answer. Seeing Dad again is going to bring things up. But I guess they are things that need to be brought up. With fingers that are suddenly shaking, I type:

  Yes.

  “Where should we go?” Dad asks as soon as I’m seated in his big diesel truck, the kind that will always look a little strange in the middle of downtown Seattle.

  “Wherever you’d like.” I’m nervous, and I think he is too.

  “You know I don’t know downtown,” he says, as if it’s common knowledge, offering me a brief smile before turning back to the road ahead.

  “Um, we could drive up to Volunteer Park on Capital Hill? We can go for a walk. It’s a nice day.”

  “Okay, sure. But you’ll have to navigate. I think my GPS is busted.”

  I guide him along the best route and inform him which turns to make, helping to fill the time it takes to get to the park. He pulls alongside the road next to the arboretum and gets out, shoving his hands in his pockets as we start walking through a grassy expanse.

  “So, how’s my girl doing?” He looks over at me only momentarily before turning his face forward again.

  “I’m good. Still working at Patrice’s, and I’m going to school at Seattle Central.”

  “Your mom mentioned something about that—you always did like to sew—fashion and design, right?”

  “That’s right,” I say, somewhat surprised he and Mom still speak in any capacity. “And I’ve been going out with a guy… his name is John, and I think you’d really like him.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Dad smiles. “He’s not like that one you dated in high school, is he?”

  “No, nothing like him,” I say, wishing I could erase the stain of Ike from my past. “John’s in law school. He’s really… special to me.”

  “Well, I’m glad for you then.” Dad stops and turns to me. “I’ve missed out on a lot with you, so I wouldn’t expect you to think it necessary, but if you want your old man to give his approval, you just bring this John guy around, and I’ll even get the rifle out and scare him shitless if necessary.”

  “Dad!” He’s the dad he was so long ago, joking with me like we’d never spent a day apart. I step forward and hug him, close my eyes and wish we could fix what’s wrong with our relationship. Maybe this is a start.

  We go on walking, Dad asking more about me, and eventually me asking about he and Liz’s kids, Morgan and Chad.

  “I should be able to see them,” I say after we’ve found a bench to sit down on. “I feel like I don’t even know them.”

  “Well, they’re still so young. Don’t get me wrong, they’ve got their own personalities,” he says with a proud smile, “but you haven’t missed out on anything major.”

  “I’m not sure how you can say that. They’ve had birthdays and Christmases, and—”

  “I’ll talk to Liz,” Dad says, his expression firm and his comforting hand on my knee. “Maybe we’ll all meet up in a park or something. Remember how Mom and I used to take you and Paige to Discovery Park when you were little?”

  “I do.” I can feel the grin spreading across my face. “John took me there a while ago, and it brought back some memories.”

  “Well, those were the good ones. We have to make sure that Morgan and Chad have good ones too.” He looks at me with stern resolve.

  “Of course. I understand.”

  I’m not sure if Dad will actually ask Liz to let me see them more or if he thinks it would be a waste of time. It’s as if my stepmother thinks I’ll ingrain them with a zest for sleeping with high school teachers.

  “Mr. Thatcher is getting out soon,” I say during a lull in the conversation.

  He doesn’t respond in words, unless I count the giant sigh he lets out. He leans forward on the bench, clasping his hands together, his elbows resting on his knees.

  Crossing my arms, I lean back, feeling my lips tighten and anger start to well up inside of me. “You don’t want to talk about it, do you?”

  There is another long sigh before he lifts himself back up and looks at me, hesitantly I think. “I know about his pending release. It’s no secret. He’s done his time.”

  “Wow, great response, Dad.” I refuse to cry, and yet it’s so damn hard.

  “What would you like me to say exactly? What’s done is done, and they can’t keep him locked up forever.”

  “It would just be nice if you wouldn’t be so clinical about it. You and I used to be close, Dad! What ever happened to that?”

  He shakes his head. “It was different when you were little. I could protect you. Mom and I were your world. But you grew up… so quickly.”

  “And slept with my teacher.”

  “That’s not…” A third sigh escapes his lips.

  “You blame me as much as you do him.” I’ve always known how severely I’d disappointed my father with that.

  “You defended him, Emma,” he replies with anger in his voice. “I wanted to go down to that school and beat the shit out of him—that’s hardly a clinical response—but you said you still loved him! Even after he’d made those tapes of you. How could you love a man like that, Emma?”

  “I don’t…” I’m fuming now while Dad looks at me with what I imagine to be disgust. “I was so confused. I hated him, but I couldn’t just erase my feelings overnight. It took time for me to get him out of my system. Isn’t that what happens when you love someone?”

  “Infatuation isn’t love. That’s all it was. And that bastard took advantage of you. He knew that you needed someone.”

  “That’s right… he did.” I stand up and look down on my father. “I did need someone because Mom was drinking again and you were busy with your new wife. Mr. Thatcher told me he loved me, and I needed to hear that… and you can think whatever you want, but I loved him back… and I still…” I stop cold.

  Dad stands up, just as tall as John is, and puts his hands on my shoulders. “You still what? Love him?”

  “God no, I don’t love him,” I respond, nearly sickened at even the idea Dad would think that. “But I still have to go and see him—we’re still connected.”

  “No, you’re not,” he says with a quiet fury. “He’s been severed from your life… from all of our lives, and that is a god damn gift, Emm
a. Why in the hell would you want to dredge everything up again by seeing him?”

  “I don’t expect it to sound rational, but it’s not just for me.”

  “Not just for you? What the hell does that mean exactly?” There is fear in his eyes, something I almost never see in them.

  I’m silent for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. “For John and I,” I say calmly, not being entirely truthful about my reasoning.

  He relaxes, then tenses again. “And how do you think this John fellow will feel about you planning on seeing that rapist when he gets out?”

  “I love John,” I say with resolution. “He’s the only man I love.”

  “Then you’d best get this connection with Thatcher out of your system, Emma. Maybe I wasn’t the father you needed when it happened, but I did my best to come through for you, and I’m here now too. You need me to be a rock for you, help you scrub that pervert out of your life? I’ll do it. You just need to tell me how.”

  I’m not really sure what to make of Dad’s offer or his lackluster support for me meeting with my former teacher. But I cling to his words, the ones that truly resonate with me.

  I’m here now too.

  JOHN

  “You free for coffee tomorrow to talk about that project?” Arthur, one of my very organized classmates, has his phone out, ready to add the group project meeting to his calendar.

  “Yeah, sure,” I say. “You going to let Caitlin and Marco know too?”

  “Sure thing,” Arthur says. “All set. See you tomorrow.”

  “Yep,” I say, glad to be out of class and into the crisp fall air. I’m just about to dial Emma when Madison pops up from the bench directly across from me like a ghost from my past.

  “It’s been a while, John.”

  She’s wearing her usual work attire, a short, professionally styled dress, heels, and her hair and makeup done to perfection. It’s funny, but I just now realize that I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Madison without any of this. Over seven years, I couldn’t say when the last time was I’d seen her without makeup whereas Emma was pretty hardcore about scrubbing her makeup off at night. And damn if she wasn’t always beautiful in the morning without it.