Page 136 of Cuffed (Everyday Heroes 1)
“I have shit to do, Des. I have this class coming in to jump. I have . . . I just have shit to do.”
“You think that’s smart, Em?”
“What?” I busy myself with papers so that I don’t have to meet her eyes.
“Jumping. From an airplane. You know, thousands of feet above the ground. I sure as hell wouldn’t trust you to take me in the state you’re in. Like I said, you look like hell. And distracted. Exhausted. And if I’m honest—”
“By all means, don’t hold back.”
“Sketchy.”
“Sketchy?”
“Yeah,” she says and then falls silent until I meet her eyes for the first time. “You look like you couldn’t complete two tasks if your life depended on it.”
“That’s just because I’m trying to avoid talking to you.”
“Well, at least you’re being honest.”
I stop fidgeting and sigh. She’s right, and I don’t want to admit it. “Look, Des. I’m dealing with a lot of shit. I appreciate you coming to check on me, but nothing has changed. Nothing is going to change.”
“So, you’re going to shut me out just like you’re doing to him?” she asks, hands on her hips, eyebrows raised.
“How do you know I’m shutting him out? Did you talk to him?” My voice escalates in pitch, and when Leo walks in and sees the silent standoff waging between Desi and me, he backs back out of the office without saying a word.
“I didn’t say I spoke to him.”
She implied it, though.
“I’m not shutting you out. I’m just . . .” I look out the window to where I’ve noticed a cruiser drive by several times over the past week and hate that I hope to see it.
“Correction. You’re not shutting me out, you just aren’t dealing is what you’re doing. In that head of yours, you’re trying to figure out how you can rabbit out of here without messing up everything you’ve worked so hard for. The loan. Blue Skies. Me, your only family.” Her voice softens. “I’m not going to let you run, Em.”
I hate that my eyes burn with tears. I hate that the chocolate cake she brought me holds no appeal. I despise that as much as I hate Grant right now, I also miss everything about him.
“He hurt me,” I whisper, the words barely audible, as if it pains me to admit it.
“Yeah, I know he did. And I’m sorry for it. I’m sorry you’re hurt, but sometimes, when you’re in a relationship with someone, that happens.” I start to reject her notion of relationship, but she holds her hand up and nips it in the bud. “Have you considered giving him the benefit of the doubt?”
“Why does he deserve it?”
“That’s up to you to decide, but in the meantime, you’re miserable as hell, you look like shit, and in the end, you’re only hurting yourself by not listening to him. Have you stopped for a single second to consider that maybe you’re wrong? That maybe Grant is telling the truth about pulling the file accidentally and never opening it?”
I shake my head, not wanting to hear her reasoning because she should be the one supporting me. She should be the one telling me I’m in the right and to dump him.
But she isn’t.
“I’m not wrong,” I say, using anger to fuel my denial.
“Maybe you are.” She shrugs with a challenging lift of her eyebrows. “Maybe you’re willing to believe he hurt you because it’s so much easier for you to be mad and shut people out than it is to believe them. Because believing him means you might have to put yourself and your heart on the line.”
“I have my rules, Des.”
She’s wrong. She has to be.
She laughs, and I hate the condescending sound to it. “And look what happened when you threw them out the window. You came to life, Emerson. He made you feel alive. Anyone who can do that to you shouldn’t be confined to your self-preservationist rules. They deserve the benefit of the doubt. They deserve a second chance.”
“I have to get to work.”
