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“Because I’m worried about you!” The urgency builds in her voice. “This is such a huge, scary thing to be dealing with, and I don’t want you to go through it alone.”
“It’s not scary,” I state plainly. “He didn’t do it. They’ll figure that out and let him go. End of story.”
She sits on the edge of my bed looking even more worried than before. Wringing her hands in her lap, I see new lines forming in her face. She suddenly looks older than I ever remember and it makes me feel guilty. It’s my fault. I’m causing her to age so rapidly.
“You think he’s guilty,” I blurt.
She hesitates, but I know what she’s thinking. “There has always been something off about him,” she suggests. “That car crash when you were with him…and then the way you disappeared for those few days not long after that. I wanted to give him a second chance, but Ophelia…if…if anything ever happened with him…If he ever hurt you or scared you in any way…I want you to know, you can tell me.”
I burst into uncontrollable tears, breaking down the way I did on the floor of Emmett’s apartment. I want more than anything to tell her everything that’s happened. Maybe what I really need is for someone else to tell me Emmett is bad. That I was wrong for thinking I could see good in him or trust him at all. The only other person who knows the whole story besides Emmett and me is Bridgett, and she also thinks he could be the one who killed Malcolm. The one who’s been trying to kill me.
My mom takes me into her arms and cradles me as I sob. But I can’t bring myself to tell her anything. I just can’t. If I could have, I would’ve done it by now. And what if it turns out Emmett didn’t do this? What if I’m right and they let him go, declaring him innocent? Then I would still be held accountable for everything he did before this. Even if he isn’t a murderer, he did enough to have never deserved a chance with me in the first place. But I’m not ready to accept that.
She holds me and lets me cry for a long time before telling me that Theo and Brendan are downstairs. “You can come down to eat if you’d like,” she offers sweetly. “Or just come down to sit and talk. Sit and not talk. Whatever you need.”
For the first time, hearing Theo’s name or that he’s in our house doesn’t fill me with rage. I feel nothing. Just cold, numb emptiness. I follow her down with a blank, dejected look. But as we approach the table, I suddenly feel like running away. I can’t sit with them right now and pretend that my entire world isn’t falling apart. And the only thing I can’t stand to do more than that is actually talk about Emmett.
Without saying a word, I pivot and bolt for the back door. I feel instantly better the moment the spring night air crashes over me. My heart is still aching with an impossible hurt, but at least I feel less trapped. Less cornered.
There’s a swing set in our backyard that was left by the previous owners. Sometimes the neighborhood kids come by and play on it. I stare at it under the glow of the distant streetlights and realize I have never once sat on this thing in the nine months that we’ve lived here. I slide onto one of the swings and rock gently, leaning my head against one of the chains in exhaustion.
I don’t even look up at the sound of the screen door slamming. At first, I’m frustrated that no one can give me a moment’s peace, but then I realize how dark it has gotten
and think I must have been sitting out here longer than I realized.
I avoid looking at the manly figure approaching, taking the swing next to mine. I know it’s not Brendan. I’m not so lucky. Instead I’m just a magnet for fucked-up men, romantic or otherwise.
“I’m sorry, Ophelia,” Theo says softly. “I’m shocked and hurt too.”
“Hurt?” I scoff. “Why the hell are you hurt?”
“I lost my partner in this,” he explains. “I never would have thought Emmett could kill anyone…or try to hurt you at all.”
I cut my eyes over to him. “What makes you think he tried to hurt me?”
“Your mom may not want to admit some things to herself, but I’m good at piecing things together,” he tells me. “I know your car crashed off the cliff in the same place Malcolm’s did. And I know how far that spot is from the school. I feel awful. Here I was trying to give the kid a job, thinking he might be my future son-in-law…”
His words are frighteningly sincere. Maybe it’s because I’m shocked or tired, but my stubbornness breaks down and I start to think he actually cares for me.
“I know I’m not your favorite person,” he adds. “And I deserve that after being absent from your life and everything with how we finally met again. But Ophelia, you’re my daughter. I may not always get it right, but I love you. I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you.”
“Ha!” I belt out sarcastically. “Except the time you were planning to kidnap me so the Elites couldn’t use me against you in your little quest for vengeance.”
His face pans over to mine with a pained stare. “He never told you,” he murmurs.
“What? Who? Never told me what?” I fire off impatiently.
A sad smirk slides across his face as he leans over and lets out a heavy sigh. “I was never going to kidnap you Ophelia. That’s just something Emmett made up, and I went along with it because I could see how crazy he was for you. I felt bad for the kid. I know it’s not easy to be a little messed up in the head, but to be in love with a good woman who doesn’t deserve you. He wanted to be your knight in shining armor and I didn’t want to ruin it.”
I shake my head. “No…No, he said you were going to kidnap me and that he begged to take me instead. He said it was to protect me.”
“Never happened,” he assures me. “The Elites were going to take you hostage no matter what. I asked them to leave you out of it. I don’t expect you to understand why I needed revenge so badly, but I never wanted you to get dragged into any of it. And I never planned to kill Thomas. I would have if it meant saving your life, but it wasn’t the original plan.”
“What was the original plan?” I ask, not really caring what the answer is. I’m still not convinced he even knows how to tell the truth and I’m not letting myself fall for this crap so easily.
“I just wanted to send them to jail,” he insists. “Sure, they had a right to blacklist me after I took their money. I deserved to be cut out of Jameson Automobiles and stripped of my shares. I fucked up. But they didn’t have to rip Lala and me apart…They didn’t have to keep coming after me and destroy my family like that. Even after I made back my money, it still felt like I had lost everything because I didn’t have you or your mother.”
So much of me wants to believe him. I’ve been clinging to my hatred for him, and only now do I realize how much easier it would be to let it go. I almost don’t even care if he’s lying. It feels better to think it could all be true. Maybe this is how he really feels.
