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Because I couldn’t. Because there was no time. “Emma.”
“Stop.” She rolled her eyes and resumed the stance to punch again. Arms up. Feet apart. Shoulders back. “I’m useless right now, so let me do this. It makes me feel helpful, at least.”
“Emma, you have to rest. That will make your mind strong again.”
“No.” She closed her eyes and seemed in pain as she lifted her hands to press against her temples. “You don’t understand. I—fuck it. They took her, and I can’t—” Her face contorted. She looked in agony. “They took my sister because of me, and I can’t do a damn thing about it.” Rearing back, she punched the bag in a savage motion. “My sister—because of this.” Her hand curled up and shot toward her face, like she was going to punch herself.
I grabbed for her, but she stopped just short of hitting herself. She looked at her hand, a hair’s width away from her nose, and a sickening laugh left her. Tears rolled down her face as she bent over, still laughing, still crying.
“Emma.”
She looked up. “I’m miserable, Carter. They’re torturing her because of me.”
“No.”
“Yes. Me!”
“No.” I grabbed her and hauled her close. “They’re torturing her because of me, because I love you, because I won’t let you go. That’s why.” My pulse raced. I loved her, and I was almost crazy because of it. She couldn’t blame herself. “Me, Emma. It’s my fault. Not yours. If you want to punish someone, punish me. I should’ve let you go a year ago—”
Her eyes went wild, and she surged up on her toes, moving against me. “No.”
“—but I couldn’t.” I gentled my tone. I needed to get control of myself. “I couldn’t. I’m sorry. I couldn’t let you go.”
“No, Carter.” A whimper slipped out as she shook her head. “No. You can’t say that.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I love you. This was my fault—”
“Stop it!” I shouted.
She kept hurting herself. I saw the pain that flashed in her eyes as she cast blame on her actions, on her being herself.
“She’s your blood family, and you can be curious about her,” I said, trying to be calm. “You can want to get to know her. That’s normal. That’s the right thing, a person should be able to do that. But you can’t, because of me. All of this is because of me. My god, you’re allowed to want to have a family. That’s what she is. That’s what I did. That’s the whole reason we’re in this mess, because I couldn’t be alone. AJ was dead. You were safer away from me than with me. So I let you go, but I went to the mafia. Because of that choice, your sister was taken.”
“Carter,” she whispered.
“Stop, Emma.” She was breaking down, and I couldn’t stop it, any of it. Every day she broke a little bit more—every time I came home without her sister. She wasn’t eating. She wasn’t healing. This was because of me. “This is my fault. Never yours.”
“Carter.”
She wanted to fight. Fine. I’d teach her how to fight. I gestured to the punching bag. “Show me your stance.”
“What?”
“Show me. If that was me, how would you stand against me?”
“I…” Her eyebrows furrowed, and she tilted her head to the side. “What do you mean?”
I moved around the bag to stand beside it and gestured for Emma to square against me. “I’m a Bartel. I’m coming at you. How would you fight me?”
She raised her little hands, already formed into fists.
“No,” I said.
“What?” She lowered her hands.
“Raise them up again.”
