Page 78 of Alexander: Alexander's Story

As soon as we’re both buckled in, she turns to me.

“Tell me, whatever it is. Please?” Tears are already forming in her eyes like she knows it’s going to hurt. She’s bracing for it.

“I…saw Jess.” She inhales sharply, and I think I can’t do it. But I can’tnotdo it. I’m staring at the steering wheel when I finally say, “I slept with Jess.” I don’t want to look at her, but I force myself to as punishment. She sits back in her seat, not looking at me, absorbing the information.

Fuck, I want to take it back. I would rather live in a house of cards based on lies if it would keep her safe. If it would keep her from ever having to feel this feeling,

“Okay,” she eventually whispers out. I want to ask so many questions. I want to tell her everything, but I don’t know that she wants to hear any of it. I know I wouldn’t. I know I hadn’t when I was the one sitting where Emma is now.

The back of my throat stings, and I clench my jaw together. My palms are sweating as they curl into balls.

“Can you drive me home, please?” she asks, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. I nod and decide to wait till she’s ready to talk. I drive toward the airport exit, but she stops me.

“Go left here. I want you to take me to my condo. Please.”No.My heart cracks.

“Please,baby…” I’ll beg. I would beg her to come home. She shakes her head, refusing to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry, Em-” she stops me, cutting me off.

“Where? Did she come to the house? Was she there at Thanksgiving?” She stares out the windshield, unable to face me.

“At the cove,” I say, knowing the impact, hating every fucking second as I watch her shatter at that admission. That’s our place.It was.It had meaning to us, and I defiled it.

“Did it mean anything?” she asks, her voice so low, it’s almost a whisper. I swallow against the truth. When my answer isn’t immediate, she doesn’t need me to answer at all. “Right then,” she says. “I need to get home.”

“Please,” she says again when I still haven’t started driving. “Please,” this time, the word is choked by a sob.

I roll my head back against the headrest, loathing every second of this. Hating what I’ve done. Hating myself. But I put the truck in drive and head toward her house.

She cries silently the whole time. I look over every couple of minutes, just to watch what we were circle the drain.Jess, my unavoidable vortex, sucked all that was good about me out of existence. All that’s left in the wake is me trying to love Emma while still loving someone else.

The closer we get to her house, the faster our relationship dissipates. She starts toying with her ring the closer we get to her building. She twists it to the left, then back to the right. I’m expecting her to take it off any second.

“He said you’d burn me,” her voice is a taut whisper, straining under the pain, like she’s not saying it to me, just out loud. “I didn’t know it would feel like I’d been scorched by the sun.” She would never forgive me, but I couldn’t stop myself from trying.

“Emma…I love you. I’m so sorry. I’m not done. I don’t want to give this up.” I don’t. We were good, her and I. Maybe if I hadn’t been stuck in a fog of Jess, I could have seen that clearly while it was happening. Guess it’s true; you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.

“Give up what?” She finally snaps, finally looking at me. I hate what I see reflecting back because she’s the one person who’s always seen me, and now, she really has. And she hates it. And it’s warranted.

“Alex?” Her brash tone grabs my attention again, “Give upwhat? The cycle of pain? The holding back? The never being fully honest with anyone, including yourself?”

She lowers her voice before continuing, “I think it’s clear that giving me up was easy because you already did. It’s everything else you want to hold onto.” My eyes close at the searing truth. The second I gave in to Jess, I’d given up Emma. I shouldn’t have done it. I wouldn’t have if I’d thought the consequences through.Would I? Or would I always be this monster?

As my eyes reopen, I watch Emma tense, her hand bracing the truck door as she shouts, “Alex!” Her terrified voice hits me at the same time a car sideswipes the passenger side of the truck, pushing us into oncoming traffic. When the second car hits us, all I can think is:Emma. But then there’s another impact, and it all fades to black.

TWENTY

Emma

december

Everything is sore and stiff. The fabric feels rough, grating against my skin. My throat is burning, and I don’t understand why I feel so miserable. Like death warmed over. Twice.

I raise a hand to rub the sleep out of my eyes, but it doesn’t come. It feels held down by the weight of sleep and I groan at the exhaustion.

“Hey,shh. It’s okay.” It’s a woman’s voice, vaguely familiar but still foreign. So, I start the arduous task of opening my heavy eyelids.

“I’m right here, Emma.” Again, the voice. I focus on it, using my curiosity to raise my eyelids.