Chapter 5
During those days in the hospital, Anna never showed up again. And unsurprisingly, Lucas, who had promised to stay by her side, disappeared as well.
Emily's heart was numb. There was nothing left but hatred. All those years, Lucas had always treated her like some obedient pet.
He could summon her or dismiss her at will.
On the day she was discharged, Margaret came to pick her up.
Margaret said, "We're going to Carter Manor. If the Lowells see you looking like this, they'll ask questions."
"All right."
Emily gave it quietly and did as she was told.
Margaret looked at her.
Emily was gentle by nature, and if her background had been clean, Margaret wouldn't have had a word to say against her.
Back at Carter Manor, Emily lay in bed without a scrap of sleep in her.
Her phone buzzed with a message.
Lucas: [Sweetheart, work's been insane. I miss you.]
Lucas: [Mom said you need rest. Are you at Carter Manor?]
Lucas: [I'm coming to see you tonight.]
Emily didn't reply. She let out a cold, mocking laugh.
All of it was a performance.
The night went black, and Emily lay there with her eyes open.
Then a faint sound came from outside the window, and the latch turned.
Emily's heart clenched, and her whole body tensed up.
She knew that sound all too well.
When they were younger, Lucas had snuck in through her window countless times, just to steal a few precious moments together in the quiet of the night.
Back then, every late night was filled with sweet anticipation.
The window slid open, and a tall figure slipped in with practiced ease.
"Sweetheart?" He kept it low and felt his way toward the bed.
Emily didn't move or make a sound. She lay there in the darkness, coldly watching his outline.
Lucas settled onto the bed with practiced ease, reaching out to touch her face. She turned her head sharply, dodging his hand, leaving it hanging awkwardly in the air.
"Sweetheart, are you still angry?" He put every soft thing he had into it. "I know the drones were on me, and you got hurt for it. I could kill myself over it.
"Work has been a disaster this week. I'm putting together something bigger to make your birthday up to you."
He leaned in. "Once you're stronger, I'll take you up north for the northern lights. You always wanted that. Just the two of us. I've dealt with Anna, and she won't turn up in front of you again."
His breath was inches from her face, and every promise sounded the way it always had.
A month earlier, Emily would have folded and gone into his arms.
Now every word out of him turned her stomach.
Something bigger. Was he waiting for Anna to start showing so he could surprise her with an instant stepchild?
"Are you done?" Her voice came out dry and flat. "If you're done, you can go."
Lucas froze, clearly not expecting her to act this way.
He'd thought she was sulking and that a little coaxing would smooth it over.
He took her cold hand and held on. "Sweetheart, don't be like this. I know it hurts. We'll talk about children later. Adopting is the same thing, really..."
"Get out." Emily pulled her hand free and pointed at the window. "I don't want to look at you."
Lucas had his pride. His brows drew in, and he let it go. "Fine. Get some rest."
He believed she'd come around. She always had.
He went back out the window fast, as smooth as ever.
Something moved Emily to the window barefoot, and she stayed behind the heavy curtain.
Down below, his car hadn't pulled away, and there were two shapes in it.
Emily's heart skipped a beat.
She turned, opened an old wooden chest in the corner, and dug an aging telescope out of the bottom of it. Lucas had given it to her for her birthday when he was sixteen.
He'd said, "Sweetheart, we'll look at the same sky through this, like I'm always watching you."
Her hands and feet went cold as she set it up at the window and shook her way through the focus.
The lens pulled the inside of that car right up in front of her.
Anna had her arms around his neck, crying. Lucas seemed to be saying something, and then he bent and kissed the tears off her face. Then the kiss turned into something else.
Their shapes ran together, the windows fogged over fast, and the car started rocking on a rhythm.
The telescope slipped from her hands and hit the floor, shattering the lens.
Emily stumbled back into the cold wall and slid down it.
She didn't cry. It felt like the pieces of that lens had gone through the middle of her chest, and cold air was pouring in through the hole and taking the last of the warmth with it.
So the urgent business was another woman in a car, a few steps from where she slept.
And the love she'd spent everything protecting had been a one-woman show from the first line to the last.