Chapter 12 #3
Jane held up a hand. “I cannot change who I was in the past, Emma. I also cannot ask you to forgive me. But that’s not who I am anymore. And I don’t wish to remember those days. I’ve come too far in my recovery to dwell on the past.”
To dwell on the past. Emma’s jaw clenched as another wave of hurt crashed through her.
Jane said that with so much ease that it felt as though the mistakes she’d made in the past were tiny.
But they weren’t. They were huge, painful, and hard for Emma to think about.
“You’ve been sober for three years, but you haven’t once tried to contact me.
” Her throat tightened as old wounds reopened without warning.
“I know you never wanted me. I know you never loved me. But to have another child and not even tell me that I had a sibling…” She shook her head as a single tear slid down her cheek.
“That hurts more than anything I went through growing up. I could have been there for her. I could have helped to raise her. You took that chance away from me, and I cannot for the life of me understand why.”
Jane sat quietly with her hands wrapped around her tea. “I made a lot of mistakes, Emma. I know that.”
Emma got to her feet, the chair scraping harshly against the floor as she did so. Her eyes locked onto Jane’s, but Emma found nothing behind them. No apology, no hope for a reconciliation, nothing. “And I think coming here today was a mistake.” She swallowed as she looked to Vanessa. “Ready, babe?”
Vanessa nodded without hesitation. “If you’re finished here, I’m ready.”
Without looking back, Emma crossed the kitchen. Each step she took carried the weight and pain of a broken childhood, but she felt Vanessa’s presence behind her, and she knew she was safe. She knew she was loved. She knew…happiness.
As Emma’s hand found the door, Jane’s voice broke through the silence. “Who told you about Freya?”
Emma stopped in her tracks, her shoulders tensing with ease.
She’d always felt tense whenever she was with her mum.
Even as a child, and that was quite sad in all honesty.
No child should ever feel tense or stressed around the people who were supposed to love and care for them.
She turned slowly and glared at Jane. “She did. I’m one of her teachers at high school. ”
“O-oh.” Jane’s eyes widened as she pressed her back to the doorframe in the kitchen.
Emma folded her arms across her chest. “How old was she when you gave her up?”
Jane faltered, her fingers tightening around her cup. “She was eight when I made the decision.” Her voice cracked a little. “Eight years and eleven days old.”
Emma’s laugh was humourless. Honestly, she had nothing left.
She also wasn’t sure she’d ever felt so drained of…
well, everything. “You’re a selfish bitch.
You knew you couldn’t look after her, but you still kept her all those years.
You should have given her up the day she was born.
At least then, she wouldn’t have spent the first eight years of her life being traumatised like I was. ”
Jane visibly swallowed as she cleared her throat. “Is she well cared for? Is she…happy?”
Emma’s nostrils flared. Jane had no right to ask how Freya was doing.
Still, Emma’s heart ached at the thought of Freya.
So quiet, so brilliantly kind, so alone.
“She’s quiet. A lot like I was in high school.
But she’s intelligent, and I know she’s going to go far in life.
Wouldn’t be hard, though, given the fact she’s not stuck with two pathetic parents any longer. ”
Jane nodded slowly. “I deserve that.”
Emma stared at her. She searched her face, deciding that this would absolutely be the last time she ever had contact with her mum.
It was all too painful and heart-wrenching.
Emma didn’t want to live her life that way, and she wouldn’t.
Though she had never outright cut contact before, today was the day.
“I hope you can live with the decisions you’ve made. ”
Emma turned away and left the house, comforted by the sound of Vanessa’s heels close behind her.
She reached for Vanessa’s hand, gripping it tightly as they hurried down the garden path.
She threw open the passenger door and sank into her seat, squeezing her eyes shut and giving herself a moment to breathe.
The scent of Vanessa’s perfume wrapped around her, the only familiarity she felt in this moment.
“Emma, are you okay?” Vanessa asked as she settled into the driver’s seat.
Emma turned to her, crumbling the moment their eyes met. Her bottom lip quivered as unshed tears threatened to spill down her face. “Y-yeah,” Emma said, barely above a whisper. “I’ll be okay. I just want to go home.”
Vanessa reached across the console and pressed a kiss to her cheek, smiling as she laid a hand on Emma’s thigh. “Home it is,” She drew back and started the car. Then, with a look that said I’ve got you, Vanessa added, “Our home.”