“Teenage Emma, only less aggressive.” She shrugs. “And yet so much changed … emotional … open, and honest … even warm.” She giggles with an apologetic expression.

“You make me sound like I was awful to be friends with.” I chide softly, guilt coursing through me again. I lower my lashes, ashamed in a way that I’ve been this way toward her for so long. So blind to it.

“You have your charms, Ems … You’ve no idea the allure you have, even when you’re acting the ice maiden.” She smiles. “There’s always a hint of something more in you … Like it’s just out of reach; I can see why Jake would pursue it … That elusive prize, always dangling out there, that door sitting ajar, waiting to be opened.” She grins at me, my face flushing with her version of how she sees me. It’s so disconnected with who I am. Who I think I am, and my mind reels.

Is she right? Does Jake see something worth chasing, worth holding on for, and trying to figure out?

“My messed-up brain.” I grimace sadly, she smiles back at me gently. Her eyes softening with understanding.

“Have you ever just come out and told him how you feel? He may surprise you.” She coaxes, placing a hand over mine once again.

Why have I never done this? With Sarah I mean, this female bonding, sharing our problems, being real and letting someone else figure out your heartbreak with you. That shoulder to lean on.

Because I’m incapable of showing people that I’m capable of being hurt, defensively protecting myself, always hiding. Jake has stripped me of my armor, slowly and surely.

“It’s too hard.” I admit sadly. “I’m scared all the time, Sarah … Scared of what he’ll say … Scared of what he’s thinking … feeling … He’s complicated, he sleeps around … He has women at every city we go to, always at arm’s length … He doesn’t do love and I couldn’t bear his rejection.” The words slice me open; I can’t think about these women he has sex with, the pain is too acute. She’s watching me carefully, sipping her cocoa and thinking.

“You think he wants to be with that girl though; Marissa?”

know, they have history … He seemed angry at her, but then he still brought her home with us and left the airport with her.” the tears tug at my eyes and I push them down. I shift to cross my legs under the throw and cradle my cup closer, in a bid to regain my equilibrium, feeling like the warmth is soothing me somehow. I can’t analyze what

head and shrug, I really am bewildered about all of that, I’ve barely let

He closed up … Jake isn’t ready for that kind of commitment. He can’t even commit to a girl, let alone a baby.” I

where all my

of things. Having a father reject you and a mother who eternally put her own needs

hard, Sarah sighs heavily, mirroring how I feel; there isn’t anything much to say on this subject. We’ve dissected it all endlessly through three cups of cocoa.

brief reflective

machine … She knows you’re never here and I know she has your cell number, so I guess she’s not actually trying to contact you directly.” She pauses, hesitant for a second. “I spoke to her briefly, she’s doing well, her

lets my comment pass. I haven’t told her about Ray … About what happened in Chicago. I will, I promise myself to tell Sarah everything, just not right now. This is all new to me, sharing

focused on my face. I’m avoiding it, looking at my hands in my lap, and I shake my

again? How can

… My past … Her past. It’s one huge ball of string waiting to unravel, and I don’t have the energy or the inclination to go there anymore. I have so many emotions about my mother, so much conflict, love, and

reading my mind. I briefly told her, via text, and

doing well … She’s going through the process of being awarded a protection order, so she can stay with her new family without fear of being returned home. Her father will be prosecuted. She’s in counseling …” I sigh at Sarah. I have been keeping tabs on Sophie via Leila, Jake’s mother and via Sophie herself, in email. Jake told me his brother seems to have taken her under his protective wing, and she seems to trust him which is a good

That damned Carrero charm.

spot on that I snap my eyes to her, inhaling lightly. I want to deny it, want to brush it off like old Emma would, return to cold and controlled, “no one hurts me”, but I don’t. I bite my

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