Chapter 38 The Ascension
THE ASCENSION
EMERY
I step into my condo, Damon by my side. The door clicks shut, sealing us within four unsettling walls. It's just the two of us. Quin had to attend to some business, leaving me with a gnawing sense of unease.
The apartment feels different. Hollow and empty. So empty. I move through the living room, fingers tracing the edges of furniture as if grounding myself in reality. In the truth that clings to us like a topical disease.
Everything feels different now. Like we’re treading an unstable fault line. Like the earth could crack and crumble under our feet. Or maybe it already has and we’re all just free falling, hoping that the ground we land on doesn’t kill us.
I’ve felt like a parasite inside my own body for years.
Since the day her heart replaced my own.
But now the sensation is heightened. It’s like I’m battling for control over my own mind, my emotions.
I want to be strong for Damon. He’s one breakdown away from oblivion.
But maybe he needs it. Maybe he needs to reach the bottom.
Once there’s nowhere left to fall, one can only ascend.
Damon walks ahead of me, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the apartment. He steps onto the balcony, and I follow him, the cool breeze ruffling my hair. He holds the rails, leaning a little too far for my comfort.
I swallow, voice meek. "I guess it's my turn to tell you to be careful."
He turns his head toward me, his smile weak. "Don't worry, Miss Jones. I'm not going to jump."
I sigh, unable to shake off the heaviness that settles in my chest. "Are you okay, Damon? I know it's all...a lot to take in."
For all of us.
Damon shakes his head, his gaze fixed on the bustling Manhattan streets below.
"It happened two blocks from here. The accident.
I was... I was driving home. She... She broke things off that night.
She told me she couldn't do it anymore. I was so mad, Emery.
So fucking upset. At myself. At her. At fucking Quinton. "
His shoulders slump as his fingers curl around the railing. "I blamed him for the longest time. I was sure he had something to do with it. Why else would she leave me again, right?" He lets out an incredulous laugh. "I couldn't fathom the idea that I was the problem."
His dark eyes meet mine, fragile and raw. "But I was the problem. She left me because I was a coward, Emery. Because I promised her something, and I was too scared to follow through."
The sharpness of his confession slices through me, and I find myself reaching for his hand, offering what little solace I can.
His gaze lingers on my gentle touch. “I shouldn’t have ruined their engagement,” he admits.
“He’s a better man than me. He… He wasn’t afraid of his family.
Of their opinions.” He glances at me. “When we rekindled things… She made me swear I couldn't hide her anymore. That I’d introduce her to my parents. Properly. But I…” He squeezes his eyes shut.
“Christ. I-I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stand to hear my father talk down to the woman I loved.
And he would. So would my mother.” Another scoffing laugh.
“She was a fucking waitress when they met, I told you that, right? She also came from nothing but…but this world changed her, my mother. She was suddenly royalty. And she wanted me to maintain her newly found status.” His gaze flits back to the traffic down below.
“I was a coward, Emery. I was a coward.” His jaw clenches, and I remain silent, listening to the foreign words of buried self-awareness slipping past his lips.
“Why was she in that cab, Emery? Why was she two blocks from my fucking house? She… She had no reason to come to this part of the city. She never came here unless it was to…” He trails off.
It hits me like a goddamn semi-truck. The truth.
The answer. It rattles my heart, shaking it, loosening every bolt and chain.
I know the answer. I’m drowning in it. I feel it so strongly.
It’s like it’s a part of me. It’s as if I’ve been carrying it for years.
Every feeling. Every thought. Every regret.
Every wish. Every desire that wasn’t my own. I feel it.
Her heart beats frantically inside me.
Tell him. Tell him.
Please tell him.
Tell him.
He needs to know.
Please tell him.
Set me free.
Please.
“I think…” I whisper, and my pulse quickens. “I think she was coming to see you.”
Damon’s head snaps toward me, his expression aghast. “What?”
I place a hand over my scar, tears welling up in my eyes, but I’m not the one who’s crying. She is. Her pain is inside my chest, and it’s as if I can hear her voice.
“I think she was coming to see you. To tell you she loves you. To tell you that…that nothing else mattered.” The words tumble out of me, and I can’t stop their crushing impact. “That’s why she was in a cab. That’s why—”
“Please stop,” Damon says, teeth clenched, his eyes glossy as he stares at me, at her. “Please stop. I—”
“She forgives you, Damon,” I breathe out, and I suddenly feel lightheaded, the pressure on my chest, my shoulders, my entire body lifting. “I think she… I think she wanted you to know that…that she forgives you.”
“What are you saying?” he cries, stumbling backward away from the railing, his face paling, hands shaking. “Why are you saying all these things?”
An odd sense of peace washes over me, and I feel so fucking warm, so free, so unchained. “I’m not,” I whisper, smiling. I’m smiling. I can’t help myself. Joy. That’s what I feel. Pure, unfiltered joy. “She is, Damon. These are her words…I think. Not mine. They don’t feel like mine.”
His eyes widen, his voice trembling and hoarse. “What are you talking about? How can she—”
“I don’t know…” I mutter, gaze flicking heavenward, and I see it.
I feel it. Energy. It’s seeping out of me.
Floating toward the gray, stormy clouds.
It’s leaving my body. My mind. My heart.
My heart. It’s beating with such a melodic rhythm.
Not too fast. Not too slow. It’s perfect.
It’s beautiful. It feels like me. Oh, God.
It feels like me. Tears roll down my cheek.
“This is insane,” I whisper, unable to comprehend what the hell is happening to me.
“Emery…”
A powerful gust of wind blows past us, picking up every single strand of my hair, my coat billowing as it passes through me. And then he’s there, holding me, his arms tightly wound around my waist.
“Emery…” Disbelief fills his brown eyes as I tip my head and smile at him. “What…”
I blink up at him, attempting to reason with what just happened.
But I can’t. There’s no logical, earthly explanation.
It’s otherworldly. It’s something I’m afraid to utter, afraid to put out into the universe.
But the truth isn’t escapable. What I feel.
What I felt. It was a piece of her. And now it belongs to the wind.
I stare at Damon in bewilderment, my hands shaking from a newfound belief in something that I only viewed as eternal darkness.
As endless nothingness. But I was wrong.
I feel it in my bones. In my veins. In my flesh.
In my blood. This body isn’t the end. I can’t stop the tears.
I can’t help it as they stream down my cheeks.
“You were right,” I whisper, my heart opening to all the possibilities. “I think you were right, Damon.”
His concerned gaze scans my manic expression. “Emery, are you okay? Maybe we should sit down. Maybe—”
“You were right.” I cover my mouth. “You were right, Damon.” Letting out a shaking breath, I stare at him, lifting my hand to his cheek, my fingers stroking his stubble as he simply gawks at my unusual behavior.
“There’s meaning, Damon. There’s…” I fling myself into his arms, hugging him so hard that I fear he may not be able to breathe. “There’s meaning.”
It takes several minutes. Several long, charged minutes of silence. But as he tenderly palms the back of my head, his lips press against my hair, I hope he understands. I hope he can feel it emanating from my body, from my hold, from the way I bury myself into his shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, but he’s not speaking to me. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
I hold him tight against me, not letting go. Not letting him slip back into the darkness that had once swallowed us whole.
“I was meant to meet you,” I say, my lips feathering against his neck and nestling into his embrace. “There was a reason we collided. I see that now, Damon. I feel it.” A tinge of anxiety buzzes through me. “Do I… Do I feel different to you now? Can you feel a difference?”
His hold on me only tightens. “No. I only feel you, Emery.” He swallows. “Only you.”
I pull back, sucking in a long stabilizing breath.
“She saved my life, Damon.” It’s twisted but the words don’t feel wrong.
“You… You saved my life.” Pain flashes across his face but I press on.
“I was so sick, Damon. My heart was giving out. I had… I didn’t have very long left.
I-I would have died. If you didn’t…” I tilt my head toward the clouds and whisper, “Thank you.”
It’s the first time since the operation I’ve said those words. Thank you. Thank you for giving me another chance. Thank you for being so generous. Thank you for picking me. Because she did. She gave me life. Not just breath but life. And all the chaos that comes from a messy existence.
She brought me Damon. She brought me Quin. She loved them. I felt it without knowing what it was. It was a painful sort of love. A tragic love. But what I feel for these two men is far from tragic. It’s breathtaking. It's beautiful. It grants me energy. It makes me whole.
“What do we tell Quin?” Damon asks.
“The truth,” I say. “He can handle the truth.”
Damon perks up a brow. “He’s like you, Emery. He’s pragmatic. The truth might scare him.”
“I don’t think he’s as pragmatic as you think,” I say. “Deep down, I feel like we all knew but we were too afraid to say it.” I tilt my head. “There was something always familiar about the two of you. Like I knew you in a past life.” I give him a small smile. “And I suppose I did.”
“You felt familiar too. I… I was looking for the past when I was chasing after you, Emery. But I’m done chasing the past. I want to chase the future…
with you.” Damon swallows as footsteps sound from the living room.
I can almost smell Quinton as he approaches us.
Damon traces his finger along my hairline.
“I pledge myself to you, Miss Jones.” He looks over his shoulder as Quin steps out onto the balcony, a folder in his hand.
Quin gives us a quizzical look. “We both do.”
“We both do, what?” Quin asks, pursing his lips.
Damon and I exchange a knowing look. “What’s in the folder?” I ask. Our metaphysical revelations can wait until this evening.
He narrows his eyes suspiciously but doesn’t pry. “Take a look.” He passes me the folder, and I open it, multiple MLS listings tucked into the pockets. “Pick one, darling.”
I blink. “A house?”
Quin glances at Damon, who hesitates for a moment then nods. “You were right, Emery. We should all be together.” He glances around, inhaling the fresh air. “Somewhere new. Somewhere that belongs to us.”
I flip through the dozen listings and stop on the last document. I furrow my brows as I read the header. “Diazenix Family Fund?”
“Oh.” Quin rubs the back of his neck, wincing. “That wasn’t supposed to be there.”
Damon turns to face him. “With the Parlaut money?”
Quin nods, skeptical of Damon’s reaction. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s the least we can do,” Damon says, eliciting a grateful smile from Quin. “I’ll call Javier. We’ll set up a press conference. You can make the announcement this weekend.”
“We can make the announcement,” Quin says. “I’m not taking the credit for this alone.”
Damon shakes his head. “No, this is something you need to do, Q. Not me.” He briefly glances in my direction. “I need to make my own amends.”
I notice Damon’s lip quiver, and I shiver.
Rock bottom isn’t meant to be home. I hope he sees there’s a way out.
I pray he does.