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She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even hesitate. I step forward. “What are you doing?”
She keeps packing, her movements sharp. “Leaving.”
The word slams into me like a punch to the gut. I frown, stepping closer. “What? Why?”
She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. Just something brittle, broken. “You don’t have to pretend, Bryan. I heard you.”
My breath catches. “Heard what?”
Finally, she looks up. And the pain in her eyes knocks the air from my lungs. She swallows hard, jaw clenched. “Your conversation with Liam.”
Everything inside me goes cold. Oh no.
She turns back to the bag, stuffing in another shirt. “I get it now,” she mutters, voice tight. “The past few weeks? They were just you playing hero. The great Bryan Lawson swooping in to fix my pathetic little life.”
“Emma, no…”
She lets out a shaky breath, hands gripping the edge of the bag. “You cleared my debts. Made sure I was taken care of. Made me feel things. Must feel really good, huh? Playing with my feelings like that huh?”
Her voice cracks on the last word, and it just guts me.
“That’s not what this is.” My voice is firm, desperate. “Emma, please, just listen,”
She shakes her head violently. “I am not your charity case, Bryan!”
Her voice rises, her breath coming fast and uneven. I can see it, the storm brewing inside her, the way she’s fighting not to break right in front of me.
I take a step closer, reaching for her. “I never saw you that way.”
She flinches back. “I don't think so.”
I stop cold. Her eyes flash. “I can't believe you, Bryan. All these weeks they meant nothing. Why on earth did you remind me of things when I'm just some project to you? Why didn't you tell me about paying off my debts? It was because I was a pity project to you!”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because the truth? I didn’t tell her. It was not because I saw her as some problem to fix, but because I didn’t want her to feel obligated. Because I didn’t want her to push me away.
But looking at her now, at the way she’s crumbling right in front of me, I realize I already lost her.
She shakes her head, scoffing. “Right. That’s what I thought.”
“Emma, please.” My voice is hoarse now. I step closer again, hands open, pleading. “The past few weeks meant everything to me. You mean everything to me.”
She looks at me then, really looks, and for the briefest second, I think, hope…that she might believe me. But then her expression hardens.
She turns back to the bag, zipping it up in one swift motion. “I’ll pay you back,” she says, voice eerily calm. “Every cent.”
“Emma…”
She yanks the bag off the bed and strides past me, her shoulder brushing mine. I twist, following her as she heads for the stairs.
“Emma, don’t do this,” I beg. My chest feels like it’s caving in.
She doesn’t stop. Doesn’t look back. Buddy whines from the corner, ears pinned back, watching her like he knows something’s wrong.
She reaches the front door. Hand on the knob. I can’t let her go. I step forward, desperate. “Emma, please.”
Her shoulders tense. For half a second, she hesitates. Then she pulls the door open, steps out, and lets it slam shut behind her. Leaving me standing there, hands clenched, heart pounding.
Gone. Again.