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A bucket of ice-cold water could not have shocked me more.
His words bring me to a standstill, but my statue-like stance does not stop a loud gasp from escaping from my mouth. Suddenly, Finn spins around and looks at me. I’m stunned, astonished, astounded, all those words that mean completely gobsmacked, and all I can do is gawk at him in utter disbelief. A cold, tingling sensation rushes through my body, and I want to turn and run. But I can’t move.
“Emma,” Finn says. There’s a pleading sound in his tone, and he’s lifting a hand toward me. I think he wants me to stay where I am. If I had a choice, I wouldn’t stay, but I don’t. Even though my limbs feel dead, I find my voice.
“You knew?” I cry, though it comes out as a cracked whisper. I clear my throat and speak again. “You knew what he was like, and you didn’t tell me?” This time, my voice is far louder, and it carries across the garden.
Finn is still approaching, and behind me, the conversation in the house has died down.
“I wanted to tell you,” he says as he closes the gap between us. “Please believe me. I really did.”
“And yet, you didn’t,” I spit. My limbs have come back to life, and I take a step back. “I got into that man’s car thinking everything was fine,” I cry. “You knew what kind of person he was, and you didn’t think it was important enough to tell me? Do you know what could have happened to me?” I’m shouting now.
“I know. I know,” Finn says again. He’s now standing in front of the porch steps, looking up at me. “I’m really sorry.”
His eyes are soft and sorrowful, but I don’t care.
“What’s going on?” I hear Sylvie’s voice at my side, and while I haven’t turned to look, I know Bree and Martha have hurried out to the garden.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I yell.
Danny has emerged from the garage at the sound of the ruckus.
Finn still looks remorseful, but his regret is wasted on me. “I didn’t think it was my place,” he says quietly.
“But it was your place to show up out of nowhere and rescue me from that pig!” I spit.
“Emma, please,” Finn says, taking a step forward.
“No!” I yell, throwing a hand up to stop him. My mother was right all along. Men are selfish creatures who only want one thing. In the turmoil that is currently my brain, a flash of a thought occurs. Maybe Finn didn’t tell me so he could arrive and be the hero. But it’s far-fetched, and I dismiss it as soon as it arrives.
“I never should have come here,” I blurt, now hurriedly turning away. I crash into Bree, who is standing behind me, and without even apologizing, I barge past her and into the house. I run through the kitchen, the tears now welling in my eyes. I run up the stairs and into my room, slamming the door closed behind me. Only then do the tears burst from my chest.
Everything comes out. All my fears. The nervousness of starting a new job. My homesickness. The fact that as much as my mum can be a nutcase at times, I miss her and my crazy sister. The thought I have been suppressing for the last few days also rears its ugly head; I have tried not to think about what might have happened if Finn and Jackson had not arrived when I was with Nick that evening, but my imagination has gone wild on a number of occasions.
Nick is a far bigger man than me, and it would have taken little effort for him to bundle me into his car and drive off. I’ve convinced myself that’s why he was so desperate for me to return to the bar with him and drink. So I’d be easier to control. Several scenarios of what might have happened after that have played out in my mind. It might be dramatic, but after my mother filled my head with such horror stories before I arrived here, those possibilities are nearly carved into my brain.
The tears flow, and I let them until, eventually, there are no more to come. When I finally settle, the only thing left to consider is Finn’s betrayal. He knew I had met Nick for coffee. I’m certain he was in the kitchen that day when Sylvie came home and told me that I was the talk of the town.
Why had he not told me what Nick was like? Why had he kept that information to himself? It doesn’t make any sense. I had no intention of meeting up with Nick again, but Finn couldn’t have known that.
Sometime later, a light knock comes on my door. Croakily, I ask who it is.
“It’s me, Sylvie.”
I tell her to come in.
I’m sitting on the bed with my head hanging low. I don’t look up, even when I hear the bedroom door close. Sylvie sits on the bed beside me, then gently puts her arms around my shoulders. She doesn’t speak, but only holds me tightly. We sit like that for a long time.
“I’m going back to England,” I say, eventually. “Mum was right. Men are exactly how she described them. They’re no different here than they are over there.”
“I’m not going to pretend to know what you’re feeling,” Sylvie begins tentatively, “and I know you went through a dreadful situation last week. But would you not sleep on it for a night? You landed your dream job, Emma. To give that up for the actions of a man would be madness.”
“I can’t stay here,” I reply. “I can’t face—”
“He’s gone,” Sylvie says. “He left with Bree and Jackson. He’s going to stay at Ben’s for a while.”
I heave a sigh. Finn may well have gone, but for how long? I still need to find somewhere to live, and that isn’t going to happen overnight. “He’ll need to come back sooner or later,” I croak.
“Actually, he’s going back to Washington after the wedding,” Sylvie says. “Which means you don’t have to run off anywhere, nor do you have to see him.”
I don’t say anything for a long moment.
“Please don’t leave, Emma,” Sylvie pleads. “I don’t want you to go home.”
While I don’t agree to stay, I slowly nod my head. She replies with a squeeze of my shoulders.
