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“That literally makes no sense,” she says, laughing. The melodious sound brushes against my skin like a warm caress.
“Makes sense to me.”
“So, what now?”
“Coffee with a view? You know, since I inadvertently owe you one.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I am always down for coffee.”
“Be right back.”
Back inside, I can’t help but smile as I make our coffee. The thought of her opening up to me is exhilarating. The very idea of Emmalyn sharing her secrets with me, of her freely giving me the very ammunition I’ve been searching for... it’s almost too much to bear.
On the flip side, our little heart-to-hearts could also be the thing that proves her innocence.
I guess only time will tell.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Emmy
While Sterling makes coffee, I wander from the table over to the set of chaise lounges on the far end of the deck. Seriously, who knew townhomes had decks this size?
I hesitate for a moment before lowering myself down onto one, reclining myself against the back to enjoy the view.
Fog is slowly descending, both in the air and my mind. Being here, seeing this side of him, has me second-guessing everything.
Is this all a game? I was positive of it a few days ago, but now... I’m not so sure. I know the smart thing to do is to guard my heart, but I find myself wanting to carve it from my chest and offer it up—whole, bloody, and still beating—on a platter for him.
Stupid girl.
But that’s what men like Sterling do. They make level-headed girls do idiotic things. They don’t just break hearts, they fracture souls, all the while skating through life unscathed.
“Mind if I join you?” Sterling asks from behind me, causing me to jump.
“Depends.” I lean forward and twist around to look at him. “Did you bring coffee?”
“Yes.” He places another tray, though this one’s smaller, down onto the table separating the two chaises. “And cookies, too.”
My eyes widen and my belly sings at the sight of a fresh sleeve of Oreos on the tray. “My favorite.”
“Would it be weird if I confessed to already knowing that?”
I snatch a cookie and shove it in my mouth. I nod as I chew. “Yes, very.”
“The pantry was always stocked with them when I’d come to visit Rob, but he hated them. So, that left you.”
“Okay, not so weird.”
“So, tell me something,” Sterling says.
“Tell you what?”
He sips from his still-steaming mug. “I don’t know. Anything. Something true, something meaningful.”
I don’t know what possesses me to say what I do, but the words topple from my lips before I can think better of them. “I wanted to die. After, I mean. I wanted so badly to stop breathing, to stop being. But coming here, it’s my fresh start... my salvation.”
Sterling swallows roughly and looks away from me. Immediately, I worry I said too much, that he didn’t mean it when he said I could talk to him. God, I’m such an idiot.
“I’m glad.”
Tears prick my eyes. “Glad about what?”
“That you’re here. Alive, breathing, in Georgia, next to me.”
“Do...do you mean that?”
He hesitates ever so slightly before reaching out and grabbing my hand. “Yeah, Emmalyn, I do.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Emmy
“So, Sterling is meeting us at the game?” Stella asks, her back to me as she digs through her closet.
We’re in her room getting ready for our first game of the season. Well, she’s getting ready—I’m spinning circles in her desk chair, questioning my entire existence.
“Emmy!”
“Huh?” I plant my feet, halting the chair’s rotation.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“Nope,” I say.
“I asked if Sterling was meeting us at the game?”
“Oh, I’m not sure.”
“He should tailgate with us. Text him.”
“Uh, I don’t have his number.”
“Really? It’s not on your syllabus?”
“Nope, just his email, and before you even suggest it, I am not emailing him.”
“Fine. Spoilsport. Do you need to shower?”
I shake my head. “I did last night.”
“Okay. Well, I’m going to. Be back!” She flits out of the room like a fairy on crack and I venture out behind her, planting myself on the couch with a cup of coffee while I wait.
If I lived with anyone else, I’d finish getting myself ready, but I know Stella will want to have a say in everything from my outfit to how I wear my hair.
So, reality television and caffeine it is.
I’m half an episode deep into Alaskan Bush People when my phone vibrates on the coffee table. It must be Gabe or Zach, because the only other person who would text me is currently covered in suds.
I pause my show and grab my phone, unlocking it and dragging down my notifications. I tap on the text alert without paying the sender much mind.
Mommy Dearest: I assume you’re settled in?
No hello, no how are you—nothing.
As I read her text again, I regret even picking up my phone. One of these days, I’m going to block her number. The only reason I haven’t already, is there’s a small, foolish part of me hoping she’ll have a change of heart and start acting like my mom again.
