Page 67 of Somewhere Without You
The tears came fast in hot, relentless rivers down my cheeks. My marriage to Jacksonhadn’tbeen a sudden collapse. Ithadbeen a slow, agonizing descent into a darkness Ihadn’tknownexisted. A darkness woven together by threads of control, manipulation, and a creeping insidious violence.
Jackson fed on fear. On silence. On the pieces of mehe’dbrokenand claimed as his own.
Silence stretched between us. I shut my eyes and a kaleidoscope of images bloomed from memory—Jackson’s face, twisting into a mask of rage. The cold glint of the belt buckle, sharp against my back.
Beside me, the fire popped and I jumped.
“I’m so sorry, Emily,”Logan said at last, his voice a pained,lowrumble.
Ilookedat him. The firelight danced in warm shadows across his face, highlighting the worry etched around his chestnut eyes. He wanted to fix it. He wanted to fixme.
Butsome things aren’t fixable.
“Don’t youdaresay you’re sorry,”I snapped, the heat in my voice surprisingevenme.“It’s not your responsibility to shoulder another man’s demons—and trust me, his are heavy enough to crush him.”
The truthwas, I didn’t want his pity. I needed something else—something I couldn’t name, let alone ask for.
My gaze drifted toward the broken window again. Beyond it, a single star burneddefiantlyabove the dark line of the mountains.And for a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if stars ever felt the weight of the world too.
“EvenifJackson apologized—and he won’t, Iknowhe won’t, I don’t think Icouldever forgive him,” I admitted, the words tasting as bitter as I felt.
Logans voice,usuallysoothing, now grated on my raw nerves.“What Jackson did—that’s not a reflection of you. It’shim. His sickness. His need to control.”
“Stop,”I choked out, my voice fraying at the edges.“Stop trying to explain it away. Stop trying to minimize it. Youweren’tthere. You don’t understand.”Tears continued to stream down my face.“I’m broken, Logan.Irrevocablybroken.Andno amount of comfort or well-meaning words is going to glue me back together.”
“No,”he said, his voice wavering with emotion. He reached for my hand, but I recoiled, his touch falling short in the growing space between us.“You’re not broken. You’re strong, Emily. Stronger than youknow. You survived.”
“Survived?”I spat the word back at him, my voice venomous.“You, of all people, shouldknowthatsurviving isn’t living. You don’tknowwhat it’s like to be carved into pieces by someone who swore they loved you. You don’tknowhowthatkind of control seeps into your soul and hollows you out.”
“I want toknow,”he said, his voice breaking under the weight of it.“I want to understand. I want to help. I want to—”
Andthenit hit me.
“Isthatwhat this is?”I asked.“Some twisted rescue mission?”
He faltered, hurt flickering across his face.“No,”he saidquickly.“No, of course not.”
ButIwasn’tdone. I needed the truth,evenif it shattered whatever fragile thread wehadleft.
“Thenwhat, Logan?” I demanded angrily. “What is it about methatkeeps pulling you back and dragging me from my own wreckage over and over again?”
“Because I fucking love you!”he burst out, the words ripping free like they’d been trying to claw their way out for years.
My breath hitched—swallowed by the silencethatfollowed his outburst. I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him hewaswrong,thatloving mewasa mistake.Butbefore Icouldspeak,he’dalready closed the distance between us. His hand cupped my face, thumb brushing away the tears as he brought me closer to him.
“I always have,”he whispered.Thenhis lips crashed into mine.
The kisswasn’tsoft. Itwasn’tcareful. Itwasa wild storm, a hurricane of longing and undeniable need. Itwasfierce and heavy, held together by years of silence, and missed chances. Itwasn’tthe tender kissI’donce dreamt about—but a reclamation shaped by the wreckage we both carried.
I melted into him, my arms winding around his neck in instinct. Thetasteof him, thefeelof him—itwasan addiction Ihadn’trealizedI’dbeen craving. I needed this. Ineededhim.
Pulling me closer, I inhaled his scent as he guided megentlytoward the sofa. I couldn’t let go—the only time I pulled awaywasto breathe.
The cushions dipped beneath us as he laid me down, his hands warm and deliberate. A shiver rippled through me as his mouth found the sensitive spot along my jaw.
I moaned, my fingers threading through his hair.
“Emily. . .”he breathed against my skin. I loved the way he said my name, the way it coated his tongue in sweet ecstasy.
