Chapter Eight
Emma
"Gran, we're not sleeping together," I growl, throwing my hands up as Gran tries to convince me for the fifth time to let Zayne sleep in the room with me. "Aren't you supposed to be telling me that I should save myself for marriage instead of trying to throw me at Zayne?"
"Save yourself for marriage?" Gran eyes me like I've lost my mind. "I'm old, not dead, Emmaline. I saw the way that sweet boy was looking at you through dinner. Whether he's in your bed tonight or after he has a ring on your finger, he'll be putting a ring on your finger."
I groan, flopping down on my bed to stare up at the ceiling. "I'm surrounded by crazy people," I mutter to the spackling. "Somehow, I'm the sanest person in this house."
"Not if you're making that boy sleep on the couch, you're not," Gran snorts, perching on the bed beside me.
I turn my head to glare at her, which only makes her laugh at me. "You can pout about it all you want, but tantrums never changed the truth, girl. That boy is in love with you."
"Zayne outgrew being called a boy about two decades and ten inches ago, Gran."
"When you're my age, no one is too big to be considered a boy. Stop trying to change the subject. That boy is in love with you."
She's right. Zayne Carmichael is in love with me. Even worse, I think he's in love with Gran and Bets. Every defense I had against him is rapidly dissolving. And I've never been more terrified in my life.
I thought if I kept him at a distance, I'd protect my heart, but after watching him with Gran and Bets tonight, I realized my mistake.
There's no defense against the inevitable. I've been falling since day one. Even when I fought it. Even when I denied it. Even when I pretended it wasn't happening, I was falling. I think I crash-landed sometime today.
I don't even know when, either! But my heart is in his hands, and that's not even the terrifying part. The part that really scares me is the fact that I don't know the first thing about being in love. What if I mess it up? What if I'm just not good at it?
What if I break him?
"I don't want to break him, Gran," I admit in a whisper.
"What makes you think you will?"
I shrug helplessly, not sure I know how to put into words why I've been fighting him so hard.
"Your mama," Gran guesses.
Tears immediately spring to my eyes. "She broke everyone she was supposed to love."
"That's because your mama was an addict, sweet girl. Addiction breaks everything." Gran slips her frail hand into mine, squeezing. For some reason, even though she broke my dad's heart and eventually got them both killed, Gran has never hated my mom. She's never had anything bad to say about her.
My dad caught her in bed with another man when I was just a little girl. It broke him. He kicked her out, but he never got over her. Less than a year later, she came around asking for help like she did from time to time. He couldn't tell her no. He never was able to tell her no.
He took her to pay off her dealer and her dealer killed both of them. My dad never should have been there, but he just couldn't stop trying to rescue her. He packed all my stuff up that morning before he left, as if he knew he wouldn't be coming home that night.
What my mom's dealer did wasn't my mom's fault. He made his own choice, one that he didn't have to make. But part of me blames her anyway. Because of her choices, I grew up without my parents.
I think I've spent most of my life afraid I'd end up like her selfishly destroying the people I love. Hiding behind caring for Gran and Bets has made it easy to keep from facing that. So long as I had them to worry about, I had an excuse to keep everyone else at a distance. But Zayne's here now, and I'm tottering on the edge of something terrifying.
What if I mess it up? What if I break him like my mom broke my dad? What if I destroy his life like her addiction destroyed all of ours? They weren't perfect lives by any means, but at least I had parents, Gran had her son, and we had each other.
Now, all I have is Gran and Bets. And I'm all they have, too.
"I don't want to hurt him," I whisper.
"Then put your big girl panties on and stop running, sweet girl. Because even if he never says it, that's what will hurt him. He needs you to trust yourself and trust him. That's how you love him, with your whole heart. Just like you do everything else. If you do that, the rest will fall into place." Gran presses her lips to my cheek. "I'm getting in bed. I might even take my sleeping medication tonight so I sleep as hard as Bets does."
"Gran," I groan. "I already told you that we aren't sleeping together."
She winks at me before hauling herself up from the bed. "Then that's a crying shame, Emmaline Cooper. That man was made for long nights and sturdy headboards."
"You did not just say that."
She shrugs, as unrepentant as ever. "Live a little. God knows, I'm not getting any younger. If you're going to give me great-grandbabies, you'd better do it soon."
"Gran!" I hiss.
"I'm just saying, we've brought you enough of those smutty books to have taught you a thing or two by now. You ought to be able to figure out how it works."
"Oh, my God," I laugh through a groan. "I don't know if you believe half the stuff you say or if you say it just to watch me squirm."
"I'll never tell, dear," she sing-songs as she sails out of the room. "Goodnight!"
"Night, Gran. Love you."
"Love you too."
Half an hour later, a soft rap on the door sends my heart into overdrive. I don't even have to ask to know it's Zayne. I don't have to guess to know what will happen if I let him in.
The only thing standing between me and him is one door and about fifteen years of family trauma. But not even that sounds so loud in the dead of night. Or maybe talking to Gran helped. I don't know.
All I know for sure is that the only man who has ever made me want to risk it is standing on the other side of the door, waiting for me to decide if I want to let him in and I don't want to spend the rest of my life afraid to actually live it.
I don't want to wake up fifty years from now, wondering if I let the best thing that ever happened to me slip through my fingers. Maybe I am like my mom, destined to hurt the people I love. Maybe I'm like my dad, destined to spend my life flutily trying to put back together the pieces of a broken heart. Maybe I'll be like Gran, spinning like a top without the man of my dreams to ground me. Or maybe I'm meant to take all of those fears and niggling worries and doubts and forge them into my own destiny. I don't know. I don't have all the answers.
But I do have this one.
I scurry across the room, pulling the door open.
Zayne's gray eyes slide down my body, doing a slow perusal. "Only you could make cat pajamas sexy, lamb."
"Hi," I whisper.
He lifts his gaze to mine. "You okay? I could hear you overthinking from the living room."
"Sorry." I grimace. "I mean, no, you couldn't."
"So you were overthinking."
"Yes. No." I huff, crossing my arms to glare at him. "Stop confusing me."
He chuckles, one side of his mouth quirking up into a sexy smile. "Stop being so fuckin' cute."
"I can't help the way God made me, Zayne."
His smile grows as he glances over my head. "Your room is nice. Doesn't match the rest of the house."
"You mean it doesn't look like we robbed a furniture store?" My room is the only one in the house where everything matches. Every other room is a treasure trove of antiques and flea market finds Gran and Bets just had to have. At least until they find the perfect piece to replace it. Redecorating makes them happy, so I don't complain.
"That's one way to put it."
I laugh quietly. "Gran and Bets like to shop. They're forever swapping out one piece of furniture or another. I put my foot down about changing things in here after I woke up to find a four-foot giraffe standing in the corner."
I nearly fell out of my bed. Gran thought I'd get a kick out of the wooden sculpture. I'm still not entirely sure how they hauled it in here by themselves. It was heavy!
"They're wild, aren't they?"
"You don't know the half of it," I mutter. "My grandpa died six years ago. He was the only thing keeping them in line."
"You've been carin' for them since you were seventeen?"
"For the most part. Gran had a stroke a year after Grandpa died. Her judgment hasn't been the best since then. I'm not sure Bets ever had good judgment. Individually, they're manageable, but together?" I tuck strands of hair behind my ears, shaking my head. "Well, let's just say it's a miracle neither of them has ended up in jail for very long."
"For very long?" His right brow climbs.
"I told you that they're wild." I stare at him with wide eyes. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to convince a judge that your seventy-seven-year-old aunt didn't mean to flee from the police when you're pretty sure she actually did mean to do it?"
"Jesus Christ," he laughs in disbelief.
I'm not making it up, though. With them, I'm never making it up. When Grandpa was still here, he could talk them down or at least mitigate some of the damage. But without him, they don't even try to behave. It's like they've decided they're done playing by the rules and are going to spend their last years living life on their terms. I don't begrudge them that. I love them for it. But that doesn't mean I don't worry.
"They adore you."
"The feeling is mutual. I wouldn't change them," I whisper fiercely. "Not even for a second."
"But you worry," he says.
"So much. I live in a constant state of anxiety, afraid one of them will go too far and they'll end up hurt or worse. I'm not ready to live my life without them because I wasn't watching closely enough.".
"That's not going to happen, lamb." Zayne reaches for me, tugging me into his arms. "I'll make sure of it."
"That's not your job."
"Taking care of you is my job."
My stomach churns with anxiety. "We both know you aren't really here because I'm in danger, Zayne. I just I don't understand why you're here at all," I admit. "Why are you so willing to jump headfirst into all of this?"
"You might not be in physical danger, but that doesn't mean you don't need me, Emma." He tips my chin up until our eyes meet. "It doesn't mean you aren't in danger at all."
"I'm not."
"You're in danger of sacrificing more than you can afford to give, lamb. You're so busy takin' care of everyone else, but no one has been taking care of you."
"I take care of me."
"Now, you don't have to do it. You have me."
"But why?" I blurt.
"You really don't know?" He cups my cheek, rubbing his thumb along my jaw. "You really can't see it?"
"I " I swallow hard, my stomach churning with anxiety. "I see it," I finally manage to whisper. "I think that's exactly why I've been fighting this so hard, Zayne."
"Why?"
"What if what if I'm not good at this?" I ask. "What if I mess it all up and ruin your life?"
"You really think you could do that?"
I lick my lips, trying to find the words. I've never told anyone about my parents, not even Camila. "My mom was an addict. She hurt a lot of people. I think she hurt my dad worst of all. He was crazy about her, but you can't love an addiction out of someone. He found that out the hard way."
"Damn," Zayne whispers, pulling me closer, as if he can physically protect me from my past and the memories of it.
"Her dealer ended up killing them both."
"How old were you?"
"Nine."
"Jesus."
"The saddest part is that I think he knew what was going to happen. My dad, I mean. Before he left to go meet her dealer that day to pay him off, he packed up all of my stuff. I remember him sending me off to school that morning, hugging me like it was the last time he was going to see me." A few hours later, he and my mom were dead. I still think about the way he hugged me that morning.
"You think he knew he was going to die?"
"I think he knew it was a possibility. But he loved my mom, so he went anyway. Part of me thinks maybe he hoped it'd end that way just so he didn't have to keep living without her." I take a breath. "I'm not sure if I'm more afraid of you breaking my heart or if I'm more afraid that I'll end up breaking yours."
"You think I could break your heart, lamb?"
"I think you're the only man I've ever met who has the power to break it," I admit, giving him the truth I've been trying so hard to fight. The one that seals my fate, and perhaps his too.
I'm in love with this man. For better or worse, he has my heart. I just hope he knows what to do with it because I don't have a clue.