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When Tayla almost drowned two weeks ago, the media went nuts over the Emerson Chase love triangle, at least, that’s what the headlines referred to it as.
Nina quit, telling me the stress had finally gotten to her and she needed a break from the industry. I didn’t blame her one bit—her phone was off the hook since it all unfolded.
Every magazine, entertainment program, and radio station wanted the inside scoop.
We couldn’t go anywhere without being followed. Jimmy even recruited an extra few bodyguards to assist him because things wouldn’t die down.
The network told us that re-runs were rating extremely high, and despite their need to control our relationship, they didn’t care that it all broke loose. They got what they wanted in the end.
The hardest part was covering up the sadness that seemed to follow me wherever I went. Deep circles carved beneath my eyes. I’d lost an enormous amount of weight from not eating anything besides the food that Poppy or Scarlett would force down my throat. I had to hand it to them, the two of them tried their best to keep me smiling despite the media hounding them for answers.
What hurt the most was how I so easily destroyed the relationships that meant the most to me because I was too afraid of letting people down.
Tayla was the only family member communicating with me. According to her, Dad had flown to England to make sure the boys were solely focused on training because Logan had moved out and he and Ash weren’t on speaking terms.
Coach intervened, but nothing could curb their stubbornness. I hated their friendship was in jeopardy because of me, but Ash refused to take my calls and so I stopped trying hoping that soon he’d forgive us both. At least Logan for the sake of their careers.
Mom and I hadn’t spoken since she left the apartment with Dad and Tayla. Tayla said she was distraught and locked herself in her office all day and night writing. I knew better than to disturb her creative flow, and settled on talking to her when I got home.
The toughest pain came from how I left things with Logan. I was angry, beyond livid, the night Tayla almost drowned. I couldn’t stand being near him or Wesley. I’d never felt so degraded, like a pawn in their sick and twisted game.
Exchange me for money?
That crap had me seeing red.
How dare they treat me like that?
Then Logan said he loved me. A pity ‘I love you’ to smooth the mounting tension in the room that day. The words meant nothing to me because I didn’t feel that they came straight from the heart. They came from this ugly, jealous place that wanted to prove a point to Wesley.
It wasn’t until the morning after, when everyone had long gone, that the guilt of my actions sunk in. My heart had splintered into a thousand tiny pieces, followed by long, drawn-out sobs. In my entire life I’d never felt so alone. Battling to keep breathing and finding a purpose to wake up every morning.
I was stupid.
Caught up in the game just as much as Logan.
I knew how important soccer was to him, yet I teased him for my own benefit because I felt insecure and needed some sort of validation. But all of it—the greed, the selfishness, and the games we played—almost cost him everything he’d worked so hard for.
And all because of me.
I’d let him down.
Once I realized it was my fault as much as it was his, I fell into a deeper funk. I wanted to reach out to him but knew it would be another selfish act. He needed to concentrate, and I proved to be a distraction of the worst kind.
The only thing I could do was move out of the apartment and say goodbye to Wesley Rich.
My baseball cap is down low, covering my eyes and gaunt face. It doesn’t stop the paparazzi recognizing me, flashes going crazy until airport security need to restrain them. I walk past the noise and to the doors where Dad’s waiting outside in his car.
Dad helps me with my bags, raising his eyebrow without a single word as he places George’s carrier on the back seat. He mumbles something about the dog making a mess, but doesn’t direct his words at me while he slides into the driver’s seat and speeds off.
The drive to Green Meadows seems longer than usual, despite the small amount of traffic heading out of town for the weekend. I know Dad’s not impressed about my a
ffair with Logan, and as much as it’s painful to talk about it, I need to apologize to him.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I whisper, staring out the window, restraining my tears from falling.
There’s only music between us. The sounds of U2. It’s so depressing, yet the perfect song to capture my mood.
“I’m disappointed in you, Emerson. I didn’t raise a daughter to behave like this. What were you thinking?” He keeps his eyes steady on the road.
