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I felt regret for weeks; maybe months, I don’t know. It’s hard to remember with four years between now and then.
But I know for a fact I’ve never felt this way about anyone else. Never.
And now she’s standing right in front of me.
“Em, this is Derek, Tony’s friend,” Tony’s girlfriend says, and I finally shrug my jacket off and face Emma.
God damn it’s hard to act like I’m not shaken up in the least. “Derek, this is my sister, Emma.”
I can tell she’s conflicted. She doesn’t know what to say, or how to act. I ignore the pain in my chest.
“Hi, Emma,” I push the words out.
“Hi, Derek,” she says so softly, I almost don’t hear her.
I have to clench my jaw at the sound of my name on her lips. She practically whispers it. The moment my name slips from those beautiful lips, she’s turning and heading for another room.
My heart feels so fucking heavy. My body’s tense. I immediately regret handling it that way. Fuck. There’s no protocol for this shit.
“Emma!” her sister shouts after her. Sandra… That’s right. I remember Sandra.
Everything starts clicking into place as I start to take off my boots and leave them on the front mat.
Sandra’s my age. Same as Tony. And she’s from our high school.
Fuck, I shoulda known that’s who Tony was seeing. I remember her now. She didn’t really run in our circles back then. She was in our grade though, and Emma’s a year younger. I run my hand over my face. Damn, I wish I’d been prepared for this.
“You good, bro?” Tony asks me like this is fucking funny.
I hold in the heavy sigh of agitation and nod once. “Yeah,” I answer him simply. My heart pounds faster in my chest as I say, “Let me take my boots off.” He looks back at me and nods with a smirk as he follows Sandra into the room that Emma took off into.
I can barely hear them talking. The blood rushing in my ears is too fucking loud to hear clearly. But a moment later there’s laughter, and I feel like I can breathe.
Between the three of them, I can make out Emma’s voice the easiest. So sweet and soft, the best sound in the world, but she’s nervous. I take a look back behind me at the simple white colonial door and think about just leaving.
Some part of me is screaming inwardly to get the fuck out of here. This isn’t good. Not because of her, but because of me. I’m no good for her. I’m not good for anyone.
But I fucking want her. And she’s never been able to tell me no.
I ignore the part of me that’s desperate to keep the promise I made to myself the day she walked away. I remember it like it was yesterday.
I take in a slow and steady breath as the vision of her looking back at me over her shoulder, walking away and not saying a damn word, silently ending it with me, pops into my head. On that day I just lowered my gaze to the cafeteria table and let her walk off.
I had to grip the table to keep from getting up and chasing her down, demanding she tell me why, even though I already knew.
I promised myself that day that she deserved better, and I’d let her save herself.
But right here, right now? Fuck that.
I crack my neck and decide right then that she’s mine. My feet walk of their own accord, taking steady strides into the room. I let her walk away once. But that’s not gonna happen again.
I stop short when I get into the room.
Tony’s already got a blunt going and is passing it to Sandra. The two of them are cuddled up on the white leather sofa on the right side of the room. My girl is across from them on the far end of the loveseat, closest to the fireplace, pretending like she’s watching TV as she bites her thumbnail.
I guess she never quit that nervous habit. She looks so damn tired, like she used to look late at night when she’d beg me not to take her home. “Just a few more minutes,” she’d plead with me. The thought brings a soft smile to my lips. She’s still fucking beautiful. Just more of a woman now.
I take a seat on the other end of the loveseat, getting as comfortable as possible and glance at the television. My brow furrows when I see it’s some chick show on Bravo.
