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The wind picked up, and it caused West’s scent of male and woods to hit my nose, bringing me back to the present. Since the man had kept his word and remained silent, I needed to finish this.
And for the first time in my life, I actually wanted to get it all out in the open.
I plucked a nearby leaf from a bush and twirled it between my fingers. “Because I kept changing which stuffed animal to bring with me, we were late leaving for the airport. Even so, my dad said we had enough time. We had a red-eye flight, and so traffic to San Francisco International Airport was pretty much nonexistent.
“Still, I was impatient. I asked repeatedly when we’d get there. I wanted my dad to hurry, because then we could see Rafe faster. They tried their best to calm me, patient as always. Treats, words, even music changes didn’t stop my incessant questions, though.
“Eventually, I got frustrated and tossed my stuffed horse at my mom, wanting her attention. Just as she scolded me, it-it all happened so fast.”
I closed my eyes, willing the images not to come. But to no avail.
The noise and screaming and blacking out. The coming to, crying and shouting. The silence until the highway patrol and fire department arrived. The tearing of metal and the ambulance siren.
I felt a hand cover mine, and I opened my eyes and turned my head. West looked at me with concern, not disgust as I’d expected.
He pointed to his mouth and raised his brows in question. And just like that, some of my terror faded. Not all, but a little. I nodded.
“If you don’t want to go on, you don’t have to, Emmy. It wasn’t my intention to break you.”
I swallowed and wondered if voicing the last part of that night would, in fact, break me.
For years, I’d thought it would. I hadn’t handled it well for the first year or two, to the point that I’d stopped talking except to Abby and sometimes her mom.
But now, all these years later, saying everything out loud was almost…cathartic. Healing. Maybe even a little relieving.
I hadn’t come this far to back out now. So after taking a deep breath, I said, “A drunk driver hit us. But I know if I hadn’t distracted my parents, even throwing shit into the front seat, my dad would’ve been able to swerve in time. They would’ve survived. It’s all my fault they’re dead, West.” A sob escaped my throat. “My fault. And my brother knows it too.”
The tears I’d held back for years spilled over my cheeks, and I hugged my arms around myself as I started sobbing.
Because I missed my life before—my parents, my brother, how I’d been surrounded by love.
And I’d lost it. All of it.
But it was my fault and mine alone.
I sobbed harder, unable to hold back the grief any longer.
West pulled me against his chest, and I didn’t think—I clung to him and let it all out. Partly because of the memories and the guilt and the loss of my brother. But also because I knew West was just being nice to a crying woman.
However, once we left this isolated spot and returned to reality, I knew he’d want nothing to do with me. He’d finally realize what I’d done and that I was a murderer.
And for some reason, that thought made me sob all the harder.
ChapterTwenty
Weston
Fuck, I was no psychologist, but I’d heard of survivor’s guilt before, usually regarding natural disasters or war zones or mass shootings.
But to think Emmy had felt this way for so many years because a drunk asshole had hit her family’s car? It made me angry and a little sad. Angry because why the fuck hadn’t my family picked up on this shit? She’d lived with them for years, after all.
And I wouldn’t even start thinking about asshole drunk drivers. Or if this one was still alive, I’d hunt him or her down to beat the shit out of them for causing Emmy so much pain.
But the sadness was greater. Because a cranky little girl doing what children did when they were tired thought she was the reason her parents had died. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that me telling her she was wrong would convince her, though. She’d stewed in this shit for years now. More than a decade, in fact.
As she cried, I merely held her, stroked her back in slow circles, and murmured soothing words. She seemed so small and fragile, which made me hold her a little closer, as if my embrace alone could keep her from shattering.
Eventually, she quieted, but I didn’t let go of her. I wouldn’t until she asked me to. Both to comfort her but also because I wanted to keep her safe. At least for as long as she was in my arms.
