Emilia

My eyes well up with emotion as memories of what happened assault my senses, bringing back the shame and humiliation I thought I’d already washed away. It’s the first thing I did when we got home. I turned the water in the shower as hot as I could take it, to scrub away all evidence of that cabin and my time with Creed.

I never should have let things get that far. After everything he did—the way he left us, and didn’t reach out to let me know he was okay or to warn me we were in danger—I should have stood my ground. I should have made it clear I’m not the same woman he left, and I should have demanded his respect. Instead, I let my desperation to be loved, my need to feel wanted, rise above all common sense. And by the time I realized my mistake, it was too late. I let him take yet another piece of me. Let him use me when deep down I knew he’d only leave me again.

Snatching the panties from his hand, I race to the kitchen. Dropping the offending garment into the trash, I pull the bag from the can so I can tie it closed. Determined to rid myself of every last piece of what happened today, I march toward the back door with the bag of trash in hand.

Just as I get there, he reaches for me. Grabbing me by the arm, he spins me around to face him, while in the same breath, he takes the bag of trash from my hand. With my tear-filled eyes locked onto his, he backs me up onto one of the stools at the kitchen island.

“Sit and don’t move. I’ll take care of this, but when I come back, you and I are going to talk.” When I drop my gaze to my hands which wring nervously on my lap, he demands, “Answer me, Emilia. Tell me you understand.”

I’m grateful when he accepts a nod and then leaves me. At the sound of the back door closing behind him, a small sob breaks through my lips. What happened between Creed and me is bad enough, but the thought of reliving it in a conversation with Lucas is just too much. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough time to come up with an alternative, for within seconds, he is back at my side.

Taking the stool next to me, he spins the seat, so he is facing me. Then, with his muscular arms, he pulls my stool in his direction, until my legs are caught between his. There’s no way out. He’s leaving me with no choice but to face the consequences of what I’ve done. It would be humiliating, if not for the concern in his eyes as he scrutinizes my face.

“Tell me. What happened before we got there?”

“He didn’t rape me, if that’s what you think.” The statement comes out more forceful than I intended, driven in part by the way he’s looking at me. The conclusion he’s come to is dead wrong, and I can’t let that go unaddressed.

“If that’s true, then why were you so upset when I found you? Matter of fact, why are you so upset now?” He asks with a hard glare that proves he doesn’t believe me.

Feeling cornered, I lift my chin in defiance. Then, with rage pulsing through my veins, I inadvertently spew all my self-loathing in his direction. “Because I let him use me and I was ashamed! Because in my desperation to be touched, to feel loved and wanted, I forgot he’s one of the reasons I feel so worthless. And I knew it. Deep down I knew he would leave me shattered yet again, but by the time I tried to stop, it was too late.” What starts as yelling ends in a whimper, and just as I finish, he pulls me hard against his chest.

“It’s never too late to say no, Embree. Never. And if that fucking bastard doesn’t know that by now, then maybe it’s time someone teaches him the lesson.” He growls into my hair, his arms squeezing around me as his racing heart pounds against my ear.

“It wasn’t like that, I swear.” I sob. God, I need him to believe me, for I cannot bear even the remote possibility there is any truth to his accusation. “I just…I made a mistake.” I pull back to look at him, putting as much sincerity into my eyes as I can muster. Reaching for his face, I take a second to soak in the feel of the soft hairs of his beard against my skin. “I swear on my girls, Lucas. He didn’t rape me. I just got lost in the moment and didn’t see it for the mistake it was until it was too late. I messed up.”

Having to admit that out loud and to Lucas, of all people damn near kills me. Closing my eyes, I swallow down the lump in my throat, hoping it’s enough to keep me from falling apart. As if he’s working through the same painful feelings, he drops his forehead to mine. With my hands still on his face, I’m surprised by the feeling of moisture running through my fingers. Opening my eyes to confirm the tears are his, my heart nearly breaks at the sight. His eyes are closed and his expression is pained as yet another tear trails down his face. His anguish is a mirror of my own, which sends a pang of guilt stabbing at my chest. Pulling him closer, I lay my head back over his heart.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I’m so sorry for involving you in this at all.” It’s a desperate plead for his forgiveness.

Kissing the top of my head, he sweeps a comforting hand through the back of my hair. “You didn’t hurt me, Emb. I hurt because, for 85 god-awful minutes, I thought I lost you. After promising I’d keep you safe, I let you slip through my fingers. I let him take you from me and in the process, he hurt you. That’s why I hurt Embree. Because all of this is on me. I’m the one who failed you.”

“You didn’t,” I interrupt, knowing the dark path his thoughts are leading him. “You didn’t fail me. Look at me, Lucas.” I grab his hands and hold them against the sides of my face so he can feel me. “I’m right here because you came for me. You didn’t give up. You saved me. I’m safe and it’s all thanks to you.”

“It isn’t. He led us to you.”

“It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. The only thing that does is that you came into that cabin and you saved me. And then by signing those papers, you saved my girls, and that’s something I’ll forever be grateful for.” As if resigned, he gives a slight nod.

Removing his hands from the sides of my face, he takes mine in his. “I’ll agree with your assessment of the situation if you agree to never again apologize for involving me in what’s happening. Because Embree, there is nowhere else I’d rather be. No matter how bad things are, or how bad things get, every moment spent with you is a moment I will never, ever regret.”

“I really want to believe that,” I tell him honestly, as my heart reminds me of all the ways he’ll eventually let me down.

“It’s for the best you don’t believe me, sweetheart. After what I did, I don’t want you to let me off easy. I’d rather prove it to you.” Pulling back, he looks down at me. “Promise me something.” When I nod, he says, “Don’t decide yet on this thing with the girls. Give me a little time. Let me prove I can be the man they deserve. Let me show you I’m in this Emb. That if given the opportunity, I can be the man you can trust and rely on.”

Nodding again, I close my eyes and lean against him. The sound of his heart soothes away some of the hurt and fills me with the tiniest bit of hope. We’re a long way off from getting to what he wants, but if there’s one thing young 17-year-old Lucas was known for, was his word.

“You’re going to be okay, Embree. I’ll make sure of it. Whatever you need, say the word and I’ll make it happen.”

“Maybe you can start by helping me figure out what’s wrong with me. Why every man I’ve ever loved has left me.” I regret the words even as they come pouring out. Here he is supporting me. Helping me through an impossible situation and there I go throwing our past back in his face, even after I told him I’d forgiven him. “God, what is wrong with me? I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so…” Mortified, I attempt to push away, but he refuses to let me go.

“Stop. It’s okay. I hurt you. I know I did, and it’s something I’ll regret for the rest of my life. But I need you to know that every day I was away from you, I missed you. Every night I closed my eyes, it was you I saw. Whenever I was scared or sad, it was thoughts of you that brought me some semblance of peace. And in my worst moments, whenever I felt hopeless, I’d close my eyes and picture a future with you. No matter how much time passed, I could never let you go, Embree.” He pauses for a moment and then lets out a sigh.

“And if that is the impression you left on a stupid 17-year-old kid, I can only imagine the torture Creed is living through. All I got was one night, Embree. He had all of you for years. Trust me on this. While he may not allow himself to dwell on it, he’s hurting. And he’ll spend the rest of his life wishing he’d made a different choice. Just like I did, and still do, every single day of my life.”

“What would you have done differently?” I ask, the 16-year-old girl inside of me needing to hear as her heart fills with warm embers of hope.

“I wish I could say that never leaving you was an option, but it wasn’t. If I had stayed, there’s no telling what child services would have done with me and God forbid Jenny. But, if I had the chance to do things differently, I would have come back for you when I turned 18. At the very least, I would have reached out and asked you to wait for me.”

“I wish I had waited,” I admit wistfully. “For a long time, I did. Five years. Until I met Creed, and by then I think I was just tired of waiting. I was so incredibly lonely.”

“I’m sorry you felt that way, but never apologize for moving forward and building a life of your own. It’s because of him you have those two amazing little girls.” He reassures me. Pulling away, he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “Come, let’s take this to the living room.”

Grabbing my hand, he pulls me back to the couch. Sitting close, he loops his arm around me and I lean into his side. I don’t know for how long we sit there in silence, but it’s like we’re both soaking in the warm comfort that’s so familiar.

When he clears his throat, he confesses, “There’s something I want to tell you, but I don’t know if it’s appropriate. It’s something I never talk about, but…”

When he trails off, I reach for his hand. “Tell me. Whatever it is, I want to hear it.” Uncertainty flashes over his face as he looks at me. It’s like he’s trying to gauge if I’m ready for whatever it is he has to share. With a gentle squeeze of his hand, I implore, “Please. Tell me.”

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Author’s Note:

I love that Lucas pushes her to talk about what happened. Especially as Emilia's tendency is to sweep her problems under the rug and pretend they never happened. 

I'd love to know what you think of this scene. Are you surprised Emilia opened up to him and told him the truth?

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