Page 48 of Freeing Emily

It’s best if I truly accept that he doesn’t want anything to do with me.

I just need to convince my heart to accept it.

It’s been two weeks since Conor was killed, and I haven’t seen Emily since his funeral services a week ago. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me… Not that I expected her to. But still, I hoped she would. I struggle with wanting to push for something more and leaving her be.

Rhys is right. She’s not a game. But I can’t help but replay Conor’s words in my mind.

“You’re filth. Nothing. Replaceable.”

Although her engagement with Ryan is officially over because of his untimely death, I can’t allow myself to be with her, especially not after everything I said.

She deserved so much more than I gave her and ripping out her heart? Fuck, she didn’t deserve the words that I said. She didn’t deserve to be left in the rain to cry.

The battle that raged throughout my body when she screamed my name was unbearable. I had to get away from her as fast as possible before I said, ‘fuck it’ and stayed with her.

Fuck. My mind and heart can’t fucking decide what to do.

I’m in crutches for a few weeks while I heal, so searching for Emily on this vast property has been difficult. I know she’s likely been spending the majority of her time in the garden, but I can’t navigate the terrain with these damned things.

I want to speak with her and ensure she handles the recent events okay. But would she even want me to? She doesn’t look at me and avoids being in the same room as me.

The fact that our relationship is completely destroyed is slowly killing me. I swear I can still smell her when I lie in my bed and feel the gentle caress of her lips on my chest or neck. I can still hear her soft and sweet laugh.

I’m so fucked.

As I hobble through the front doors of the mansion, I hear her chuckle from the kitchen and stop short in the foyer.

Now is my chance to see her. To speak with her.

I tap my fingers along the handles of the crutches, contemplating what I should do.

My body is moving before I officially decide.

I hear Niall speaking with her and her chuckles fills my ears once more. My stomach flutters at the sound. Her laugh is one of my favorite things about her. It’s a melody that I could listen to for the rest of my life and never tire from.

As the kitchen comes into view, Emily is seated on a stool in front of the kitchen island. She’s in a tight pair of jeans and a pale pink knitted sweater. Her red hair sits atop her head in a messy bun with strands that frame her beautiful face.

Niall spots me first.

“Morning, Liam. How are you feelin’ today?”

Emily’s shoulders go rigid, and I internally wince at the sight.

“I’m grand, Niall.”

I head toward Emily and sit on the stool next to her. She shifts slightly away from me.

“How are you, Em?” I ask quietly.

“Niall, I think I’ll go eat in my room.” She ignores me completely and stands.

I reach out and grasp her wrist to keep her from leaving.

“Why you avoidin’ me, eh?”

Her face is void of emotion as she pivots her eyes between mine, but I can see the pain in her swirls of ocean blue.

“I have nothing to say to you, Liam.” She pulls her arm to try and escape my hold, but I tighten my grasp.