Page 41 of Hell Hath No Fury

Locking Emma and their parents out.

Back then, it had infuriated them. Now, it opened another crevasse in Emma’s shattered heart. “Nell, it’s me. Let me in. Please.”

Emma expected Nell to repeat her demand. Maybe add “leave me alone” to it. Instead, the knob turned, and the door swung open. “What do you want?” Nell asked, her voice husky. The redness in her eyes stood in stark contrast to the bruise-colored circles under them.

“Can I come in?”

After a few moments of consideration, Nell stepped aside.

Emma entered the room she’d stayed in not long ago. At the time, she’d thought Nell was dead. Emma had come back home to make burial arrangements, which thankfully hadn’t been needed. The sheets were in disarray. Nell clearly hadn’t slept any better than Emma had.

“How are you?” Emma sat on the edge of the bed.

“How do you think?” Nell snipped. “I miss Mom and Dad. I miss Zeke. I miss my baby.” The child she’d miscarried and never had a chance to know. Her voice cracked. “I need an oxy and a drink to wash it down.”

Emma leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “The last four years have been hell.” For both of them, but Nell didn’t care about what’d happened to Emma. Not now, at least.

Nell sunk onto a padded bench sitting against the wall. “I think about it a lot, you know?”

“About what?”

“That trip. The one Mom and Dad took alone. It’s our fault. We should’ve gone with them. If we had, if we’d have insisted on sharing the driving with Dad, he wouldn’t have fallen asleep behind the wheel. They’d still be alive. Everything would be so different.”

Emma closed her eyes. How well she knew. She’d had the same thoughts over and over. Except… “It wasn’tourfault,” she said. “It was mine. I was the one who refused to go. I wasn’t a kid anymore. I was twenty-six. Too old for a vacation with the folks. The only reason you didn’t go is because of me. You thought if I didn’t go, you shouldn’t have to go either.”

“That’s not how I remember it.”

“Okay. Howdoyou remember it?”

“I didn’t want to go, so you said you’d stay home too and take care of me.” Nell swore. “I was twenty. I didn’t need you to babysit me, but the only way Mom would agree to leave me behind was if you were here, too.”

Emma thought about it and shook her head. “No. Staying home was my idea. Not yours.”

Nell opened her mouth to argue but closed it again. “I guess we both want to take the blame.”

“I’m serious, Nell. That accident… it’s on me, not you.”

Nell hung her head. “It doesn’t matter. Either way, Mom and Dad died that night, trying to get home to us.”

They fell silent. Emma struggled with what she could say to snap Nell out of this funk. “You’re right. We can argue the point forever, and it won’t change a thing. And you know what? Mom and Dad would hate this. Hate what we’ve come to.”

“You mean whatI’vecome to. They’d hate that their baby girl’s a drunk and an addict.”

“They’d hate that I wasn’t there to keep it from happening. That I let…” Emma couldn’t say his name. “That I let a man drive a wedge between us.”

“You can’t take credit for my poor choices.”

Emma met Nell’s damp eyes. “At least you admit they’re poor choices.”

She lowered her gaze. “And I’m too weak to make better ones.”

“You are not weak. You’re in pain. The booze, the pills—they took the pain away for a while, and now they’ve changed your brain chemistry. You can’t simply decide, ‘Oh, I’m giving it all up right this minute.’ Your brain won’t let you.”

“You sound like a doctor.”

“I’m right, though.”

Nell’s gaze shifted in thought. “I guess.”