Chapter 44 – Emerson
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
EMERSON
I’m shocked awake by the dream.
I can’t remember it, but the sensations linger in my mind. The darkness of the room. The scent of his cologne. The sounds he makes.
Fear consumes me in those first few seconds.
And then I realize it’s Grant’s arm that’s wrapped around me. It’s the heat of his body that is cuddled against mine. It’s his even breathing that greets the still night air of his bedroom.
It doesn’t matter, though. My heart still races from another dream. Another piece of my past unveiled. Another part chipped free.
I shift away from him, needing some space.
As if the distance will help me understand the constant dreams I’ve been having. Combat the fear that comes with each one of them. Untangle the nightmares where I’m Keely or she’s me and my dad is coming down the hall. Things—little things—I hadn’t remembered but that are now so vivid and terrifying that I can’t breathe around them. I wish they would stay dead and buried.
But the fear reigns. It has owned me every day for the past few days and has taken a toll on everything in my life. I’ve messed up entering figures on my loan application paperwork, I’ve given misinformation to students during a class, and I’ve been scattered when I jumped.
Yet, even with all the distress and all the memories, the one I fear to recall the most remains silent. The blank spots in my memory that hide them taunt me and promise to reveal everything and destroy me in the process.
It’s why I don’t trust myself.
It’s why, when I look at Grant, I know I need some space, and more than the foot of still-warm sheets I just put between us. Some time to think. A few days to clear my head and figure out where to go from here.
I slip out of bed and stand beside where he lies. The moonlight comes in through the window, dashing light across his abdomen but leaving his face in shadows. I take in the beauty of him, the kindness in him, and I know without a doubt I don’t deserve him or the patience he has afforded me.
My heart hurts.
For so many reasons. It’s why, when I lean over and press the softest kiss against his stubbled jaw, another tear slips over and down my cheek.
He thinks the ugly in me is beautiful.
I don’t understand how he can. I don’t understand how anyone could look at me and see beauty when it’s edged with so much pain. When beneath the surface, I’m a disaster waiting to implode. The notion confuses me. The realization tells me I need to take a breather for myself.
To get perspective.
To figure out if Grant is the remedy or the cause of all the current unrest in my mind.
“Goodbye, Grant,” I whisper. “Thank you.”
And as I click the front door closed behind me, the tears continue to flow. I’m not sure if I feel vulnerable because I’ve finally opened up or because I fear I need to say goodbye.