21. Chapter 21
Chapter twenty-one
EMMA EASTON
For a second, I just stand there. And then everything hits at once.
I pull my hand away and force myself to move, one step, then another, until the hallway gives way to the basement living room.
Rafe is focused on the monitors with a blank expression.
Heather stands beside him, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and Micah brushes past me, already looking toward the screens before I can even speak.
I don’t say anything. I don’t think I can. I just follow their line of sight to see him.
Jude sits on the floor beside the bed, elbows braced on his knees, head bowed as if the weight of everything has finally dragged him down. His shoulders move, barely at first, then more noticeably, and it takes me a second to understand what I’m seeing.
He’s crying.
My heart splits. A sharp, aching pressure blooms right in the center of my chest, making it hard to even breathe as I take a step closer to the monitors without meaning to.
“Hey,” Micah says quietly.
I don’t look at him. My eyes stay locked on the screen, on the man who just kissed me like he was starving for it…and now looks like he’s falling apart alone on the floor. “I shouldn’t have left him,” I whisper, my voice barely holding together. “I should’ve stayed. I should’ve—”
“Emma,” Heather says gently, stepping closer, her hand finding my arm. “Giving him space is good right now.”
I shake my head, even though I hear her. “I pushed him,” I say, the words tumbling out unevenly. “I made him look at me. I kept pushing and pushing and—” My breath stutters. “He flinched. Did you see that? He flinched at me.”
Micah exhales slowly beside me, dragging a hand through his hair as he watches the screen. His jaw is tight, but his voice is steady when he speaks. “All that and he still kissed you.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat.
“He didn’t hurt you,” Micah adds, softer now. “That’s huge, Em. You know it is.”
I do. But it doesn’t make this easier to watch. On the monitor, Jude rubs face like he’s trying to pull himself back together, but his shoulders are still shaking just enough to give him away.
I feel Rafe’s presence beside me. “This is not failure,” he says calmly.
“It feels like it,” I whisper.
“It isn’t,” he replies, just as steady. “That man in there just experienced a direct trigger, maintained enough control not to harm you, and then removed himself from the situation before escalation. You’re allowing your emotions to run you, dear therapist. Get it together.”
I blink, my vision blurring. “He’s crying,”
“Yes,” Rafe says. “Because he’s aware. He knows what he almost did and what he wants instead. That conflict is where recovery lives. It’s ugly and painful. But it’s necessary.”
My chest tightens as I look back at the screen. “He thinks he’s going to hurt us,” I whisper. “I can see it. He’s already decided it.”
Micah’s head drops, his voice rough when he answers, “Yeah. I know.”
Heather’s hand squeezes my arm gently. “We’ll just keep on him. If anyone can do it, you guys can.”
Micah smiles and kisses her sweetly.
I let out a shaky breath, my eyes never leaving the monitor. “I’m going back in tomorrow.”
***
The day drags on after the kiss, and I can’t focus on anything else. All I can think about is that moment…and how close we are to getting him back. The tech gang kept working, describing everything along the way, even if I couldn’t really understand it that well.
“We can see more now,” Adela had told me earlier. “But it’s like looking through glass we can’t break. It’s fucking annoying. Every time we get close, the system reminds us exactly how bad it could go if we poke it wrong.”
Micah, Heather, Adriana, and I checked the monitors multiple times to ensure Jude was doing okay. And thankfully, he was. By the time the sky outside turns completely black, I find myself in Heather’s room while Micah gives Jude his last dose of Suboxone for the day.
She’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, her hair pulled into a loose knot, a blanket draped over her lap. The lamp beside her casts everything in a soft, golden glow that makes my tension melt away.
I sit beside her, pulling my knees up, my fingers fidgeting with the hem of the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
“So, you’re going to try again tomorrow?” she asks, her voice soft.
I nod. “Yeah.”
My throat tightens a little, but I push through it. “He controlled himself today, which is amazing.” I sigh. “If he wants to be restrained…we work with that.”
Heather studies me for a second. “And if he’s worse? More volatile?”
I hate the question, but it’s at least worth acknowledging. I stare down at my hands. “Then Micah stays closer. We shorten the time. And…we don’t push eye contact as hard.”
She reaches over, brushing her fingers lightly against mine. “You’re doing this right, Emma.”
I let out a small, humorless breath. “Thanks. I’ve never had to undo something like this before. In psychology, you learn all sorts of wild shit. But you don’t know if you’re ever going to have to use any of it.”
She chuckles softly, the sound fading to quiet as we sit together. “What do you think of Adriana?” she asks after a moment.
I can’t help but wince, the question catching me off guard.
“I…I don’t know,” I admit. The only time she really talks to any of us is during dinner, when we’re all gathered in the living room and around the table.
She’s always on her phone, looking really focused.
But she hasn’t posted or anything, so I don’t know what she’s doing.
She could very well be a ghost that just haunts us all right now with how much she’s been avoiding direct conversations.
“Micah told me that she’s having a hard time,” she murmurs, standing up to get her water bottle on the nearby dresser.
I shrug, refraining from saying, good. “I imagine. She went through a lot in there. She’s traumatized.”
Heather considers for a moment. “Do you still hate her?”
I shift, tugging the blankets up as I settle into bed. “I want to. But I can’t,” I whisper. “I don’t forgive her for what she’s done. For how she’s contributed to his situation. But I don’t…I don’t hate her.” And it’s then that I realize that.
She nods, her gaze fixed on me. “You’re a better person than I am.”
“As corny as this sounds, I’ve learned something very valuable over the years with my work,” I explain.
“When you hate someone, it only causes you harm in the end. They can’t feel you hating them at all hours of the day.
They don’t know that they’re keeping you up at night, imagining hitting them with a fucking truck. ”
She huffs a laugh.
“I had to let that go. For Jude. And even if I don’t necessarily hate her anymore, it’s only because I chose myself. And him. Because I need him to survive this.” I find myself sitting with my feelings about her for a few heavy moments. “I don’t know which version of him I’m going to see tomorrow.”
Heather doesn’t answer, and when I glance over, she’s no longer looking at me. She’s standing at the dark window, staring out of it.
“What?” I ask quietly.
She tilts her head, like she’s listening for something she can’t quite hear. “Do you wonder about how close they might be?” she murmurs.
A chill slides down my spine.
“Alexei’s men,” she adds, her gaze still fixed outside. “If he really knows where we are…if he wasn’t bluffing…”
I follow her line of sight, but there’s nothing out there. Just trees and darkness.
“They could be out there right now,” Heather says softly. “Just…waiting. Watching the house. Counting how many of us there are. Learning our routines. Perhaps even licking their chops at the idea of taking us away.”
My heart beats faster as I think of them stalking us. “Heather, I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. My best friend’s life is directly in danger right now because we’re here to save the man I love. In a perfect world, she and Micah could ride off into the sunset together.
“You can leave if you want,” I continue, and she turns to me. “I don’t want you or Micah to get hurt. Please.”
“I could never leave you,” she murmurs. “Not ever, Em. I’ve loved you forever. I will not abandon you.”
“Stop,” I whisper, but there’s no real bite to it.
“I’m serious,” she says, her voice firm. “We will get out of this. Jude never stopped loving you before. That will not change.”
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly aware of how thin the walls feel, how exposed the house is despite everything Rafe has done to lock it down.
I hope she’s right. But knowing what I do about what he’s gone through from a professional sense…
it is possible that he will never love me like he used to.
“I hate not knowing,” I admit, my voice quieter now. “I hate sitting here while Alexei’s out there…pulling strings, and thinking he can get away with hurting Jude.”
Heather finally looks back at me, her expression soft but serious. “That’s the point,” she says. “He wants you unsettled and imagining the worst.”
I nod, even though it doesn’t make the feeling go away. But before I can answer, the door opens, and I almost jump.
“Hey,” Micah greets with a smile.
“How is he?” I ask, shifting so he can scoot in beside me.
“He’s better,” he sighs, rubbing his face. “He’s more recognizable than before, honestly. He wasn’t triggered at all, so that’s good. He took the Suboxone just fine.”
“I’m happy he’s coming back to us,” Heather says with a smile, bumping me with her elbow as she slides into bed. “See? We’ve got him.”
I lean my head on her shoulder.
Micah lies down. “Staying with us tonight, Em?”
I consider it, but I’m too comfortable right now to move. “Yeah, I’m not moving.”
Heather laughs, pulling me down and snuggling up against my front as Micah rests at my back. We keep talking for a little while, but my mind drifts.
To Jude’s hands on my face, and the way he kissed me like he didn’t know how to stop.
And when he flinched after.