He took my journal off my lap, looking at all the scratched-out names. “No luck?”
“Nope.” A self-deprecating laugh left me. “But why would I catch a break when I need it most?”
“Someone will bite.”
“Have you heard from Jack? Or found anything with Ethan?” I was desperate at this point, and knowing that Sterling and Preston were behind all of this made me even more so.
“Not yet.”
“Fuck,” I whispered. My head fell back towards the light blue sky as if it had the answers. Or thousands of dollars to drop out of one of those cotton ball clouds.
“Stop beating yourself up over this. It isn’t your fault, sugar.”
I knew that logically, and yet I still couldn’t stop myself from blaming myself. “It feels like it.” I grabbed a random stick, snapping it into little pieces. “If I hadn’t given them anything to go after, none of this would be happening.”
His finger landed on my chin, turning my head and forcing me to look at him. His eyes were sharp. “You didn’t give them anything. And I have a feeling they would’ve found something to use against us regardless.”
“Claire was right,” I sighed. “I shouldn’t have been trusted with this. I always screw everything up.” It didn’t matter that she’d apologized and I’d forgiven her. We both knew there was truth in her words. Everyone did.
“Stop that.” The words came out low and gruff. Agitated. “I hate hearing you talk about yourself like that.”
“But it’s true.”
His expression softened, eyes darting between mine. “No, sweet girl, it’s not.”
“I’ve felt like a failure my entire life, Emmett.” I wiped away my tear the second it fell. “I studied my ass off in school and was still a C average student. Every job I’ve had ended in a nightmare for one reason or another. I’ve never had a real boyfriend because I suck at dating. I try so hard, and it’s never enough.” I shrugged a shoulder, my chin wobbling. “The only thing I’m good at is slinging back shots at the Bull Pen and making people laugh.”
He snatched me up, pulling me into his lap so I was straddling him. His eyes were hard, his body rigid. “I’m so fuckingsickof you not realizing how special you are,” he growled.
I shook my head in disbelief. “I’m not.”
His jaw tightened, fingers digging into my waist slightly. “Delilah, I swear to God…”
My eyes narrowed at him, irritation burning in my chest. I squirmed out of his grasp, needing the distance. I didn’t need him blowing smoke up my ass just because we were sleeping together.
“Go ahead then, tell me what makes meso special.”
“Everything. The way you make people feel seen. How you instantly light up a room when you walk into it. How you listen without judgment. Your hair. The way people flock to you, desperate for even an ounce of your attention. You don’t bullshit people. The fact that your teeth haven’t rotted out with the amount of sugar you consume. Your infectious laugh. How selfless you are. How much you adore Luke. Is that enough for you, or do I need to keep going?”
I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “Would it be narcissistic of me to tell you to keep going?” I whispered, dying to know what else he thought of me after being in the dark for years.
“You’re the therapist, you tell me.”
“I think a few more wouldn’t hurt.” We both smiled. Small, but there.
He took my hand and placed it on his chest just like I had before our first kiss. A jolt of warmth rushed through me. “You didn’t give up on me even when I gave up on myself. How about that? Even when I deserved it, you didn’t leave me to deal with all my shit by myself.” Every word he said dug under my ribs and settled right in my chest.
I swallowed back the knot in my throat, my heart hammering. “Emmett…”
“My best friend died because of me,” he said. I’d heard him mention that on the phone with Jack the other night, but I wasn’t going to pry. “I was our squadron leader and made a bad call. Got shot in the chest right in front of me. He had just gotten married the year before and had a baby on the way.”
My blood turned to ice. “I’m so sorry.” I knew the words did nothing, but I meant them all the same.
His gaze went somewhere else. Somewhere dark. It was the same look he always got when he thought of his time overseas. Haunted and vacant. Bone-chilling.
“There was so much blood, Delilah,” he whispered. “It just kept coming, no matter how hard I tried to keep it in. I couldn’t do anything to stop it. And it was all my fault. My best friend, the person who knew me most and trusted me with his life, and I’d failed him in the worst way imaginable.”
And now it all made sense. The fear of intimacy, the safe distance he kept from everyone, the way he reacted when I cut myself in my office a few weeks ago.
