Page 80 of The Promises We Break

This is a gamble, but if anyone can make you feel loved, it’s my mother.

“Ember, we’re here.” She shifts her gaze to me, then back at the house. A furrow in her brow tells me she’s confused as to where we are, but doesn’t ask questions. She just reaches for the door handle, mimicking that of a zombie as she exits the car.

As we enter the house, the aroma of freshly baked goods and cinnamon spice invades my senses, and I hope it brings the same comfort to Ember as it does to me.

My mother lies on the couch with a blanket draped over herself, fast asleep. Tiptoeing past her so we don’t wake her, I lead Ember upstairs to my old room, and walking into it, like I do every time I visit, is an instant recollection of the past.

Filled with more baseball memorabilia than one person should have, pictures of classic cars, and an embarrassingly large Green Day poster, the room is still completely intact from the day I moved out.

Ember sits on the bed, and I crouch down to remove her shoes. She glances around the room but remains expressionless, either unaware of where we are or completely aware and still unable to speak.

“You need to get some rest,” I say to her, cupping her cheeks as I seek to gain some sort of recognition from her. Something to rip her out of her current state.

Her eyes, her gorgeous jade eyes, usually filled with an ocean of fearlessness and a spark that you can feel, are completely empty of all color and existence.

“Ember,” I whisper, pressing my forehead to hers. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

I don’t know what else to say. I just need her to speak, react, cry, scream, something. God knows I want to.

She peels away from me, feeling instantly a light-year away, and shifts her gaze toward the bed, eyeing the pillow and blanket, before crawling into a fetal position onto it. I clench my fists, envisioning the complete destruction of her father yet hold back any other reaction, knowing that is not what she needs right now.

Covering her with the blanket, I kiss her temple and give her the space I know she needs, and head back downstairs.

My mother must have heard us pass through. Not surprising, it’s the same trait she had when my brothers and I were kids, hearing and seeing everything. She silently walks up and gives me a hug only a mother can give, that instantly tries to strip away stress and pain.

“How is she doing?” she asks, cutting to the chase.

“I’m not sure.” I round my palm around the back of my neck, feeling stiff from both the plane and the madness oftoday. “I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t said a word since everything happened.”

“She just needs some time, honey.”

“I don’t know. What happened tonight, it’s life changing for someone. And the things herfathersaid to her…” I shake my head, disgusted by the revolting things that came out of his mouth. “I’m worried.” I look upstairs like I can still see her. God knows, I can feel her, always everywhere.

I’ve talked to my mom a lot about Ember over the last few months. She knows the details of how we met, ended up married after a weekend and living together because it favored us both. What she doesn’t know is how deeply I’ve fallen for her. How I want nothing more than for Ember to see what our relationship really is. Something so real I can taste it, every fucking day.

“You’re worried because you love her,” my mom responds with an ease I’m jealous of. She says it out loud as easily as breathing.

I turn my head in her direction, again not surprised she can read right through everything.

It’s an arrangement, so the likelihood of Ember feeling the same, regardless of the time we’ve spent together, is, unfortunately, unlikely. Especially for a woman who’s built walls around herself thicker than Fort Knox and especially after tonight.

“I’m going to bed. You need to get some rest, too.” She places her hand on my shoulder. “There’s nothing more we can give for today. Let’s start again tomorrow.” Her smile is bigger this time as she feeds me the statement she’s repeated frequently over my lifetime.

I trek back upstairs, anxious to get back to Ember, secretly hoping she’s still awake so I can be selfish and talk with her, but praying she has fallen asleep.

Her heavy but steady breath tells me she’s passed out, and I instantly feel relief.

I can’t imagine the incessant thoughts rolling through her head. Her father’s words on repeat through her mind like a virus, questioning her worth with every syllable.

I crawl into bed and curl myself up next to her as I watch her chest rise and fall in a peaceful rhythm. I wish more than anything she felt peace and want nothing more than to give it to her.

The promises she makes for herself, for us, always revolve around holding back, not taking things too far. I’m tired of holding back, faking it, pretending what I feel for her isn’t real. I’ve never experienced something so goddamn real.

But after what happened to her tonight, I’m terrified I’ve lost her forever.

40

EMBER

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