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Mostly because I feel like I’m on the verge of making another mistake…
By the time I burst free from the building and finally get the cold air inside of me, I realize that this is all a warning.
This isn’t PTSD. It’s a reminder of what I need to do. What my purpose is.
I couldn’t help Justine, but I can help Emma if I choose to.
I mean, can Ireallyhand Emma over to these guys? Knowing how I feel about her. With Hudson and Rickie in play as well?
I don’t know much about Dorian O’Connell, but I’m starting to think that maybe I should just go to him, speak with him, see if he can help me out.
Would Emma want that?
Does it even matter anymore if this is the only way that I can keep her alive?
Urgh, I knew that meeting was going to be a challenge, but I didn’t know it’d leave methismessy. Now my thoughts are all over the place… I don’t know what to do with myself. I think I need a drink.
I stumble into the nearest bar, trying to calm my racing heart down.
Fuck, I can’t let Emma see me like this.
“Whiskey, please,” I bark at the bartender as I perch on the bar stool.
I glug the amber-colored liquid down as fast as I can, needing my brain to shut the fuck up already.
All I can think about is Emma, she has pretty much consumed me. She’s brought light to my dark life, she’s become the warm rays of sunshine I didn’t even know I needed.
She deserves so much better than all of this.
Than the cabin.
Than these men.
Thanme.
I wish I was good enough for her, but that’s never going to happen, is it?
How can I keep her safe and make sure she lives the life she deserves? I don’t know if I have the strength and power to achieve that all on my own.
“Another one.”
I’m not supposed to be drinking—it’s so much easier when I have a clear head on my shoulders and I can concentrate on what’s next—but I have to have something to take the edge off.
The edge is getting too hard to deal with.
I wish I could go back in time to turn my feelings off, to do this as a professional job like I was supposed to.
But truth be told, I can’t even imagine that now. I can’t picture myself not knowing Emma and handing her over to Vinnie.
I’m in this too deep, ever since I acted like I was Wilson Anderson.
This is what I get for having a heart, and for following it, too. For not closing off my emotions forever like Hudson has, and I’m sure Vinnie and the other mob bosses as well.
I should have chosen a long time ago.
My heart or my career.
I thought I did choose. After Justine, I didn’t think there was a way back into my emotions, but it seems like I was wrong.
