Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Emily

I bite my tongue, hoping it will help me swallow my tears back. Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry. Goddamn it, I'm such a mess. Everything is messy and complicated and it kills me that I have zero control over my life.

I close my eyes and lean back into the driver's seat, but Elsie's face is stuck in my mind; her teary eyes, her hands encircling my waist, begging me not to go. She must think that I'm a monster.

She has no idea how much I love her, how much I miss her every day - how I wish I could play with her hair, or read books to her before bed. I wish she knew that I think of her every day - that I see her in all the girls I work with.

Her hair is much longer now and lighter, she almost looks blonde. And she's wearing her hair down; she always loved wearing it down but Mom never let her so I'm assuming she must have removed the hair tie once she got to the playground. The worst part is that every time I see her, she looks so different. She's growing up and I'm missing all of it.

Logan's hand touches my shoulder, shaking me out of my thoughts. "I'm sorry."

My heart sinks to my stomach. There goes the look of pity that I get from everyone. "I don't need your pity," I struggle to keep my voice steady as I twist my keys, turning the car on.

"I don't pity you, if anything, I-" He gulps. "I know exactly what you're going through."

Anger rises in my chest. No, he doesn't know anything about what I'm going through - literally, no one does. And the last thing I need is a spoiled playboy who has had his entire life laid out ahead of him to tell me that he knows what it's like.

"No - No, you don't. Because you and I are not the same. We'll never be. Just drop it."

He flinches, as if my words physically hurt him. "What is that even supposed to mean?"

I twist my car keys again and turn to look at him this time, my eyes piercing through his green orbs. "Listen, you don't understand, okay? I don't expect you to. You grew up in a bubble and this is some exotic summer vacation for you that you'll talk about to your celebrity friends when you go back to NYC - good for you. But this is my life, and I-" I take a deep breath, trying to stop my voice from breaking. "And I need you to stay out of it."

It's moments like these when reality hits me back - The reality that my life is way too complicated and I'm way too complicated and messy and I need to stay alone. I need to stay alone because no one else will ever understand. Because the pain I feel inside is too strong, it's too deep and it can't ever go away. The things that happened - God, I don't think I can ever heal.

And no matter what I feel for him, I can't show him that side of me. He deserves better - He deserves to stay in that bubble with his supermodel girlfriend whose biggest worries are probably about changing her hair salon or missing out on a fashion show.

I expect him to agree, to change the subject or pretend this never happened. But instead, he lets out a sarcastic laugh and looks away, shaking his head.

"You have no idea. You know what, Em? At least I don't judge and assume that people have perfect lives. You wanna hear about the bubble I come from? It's a bubble where I'd go missing for two fucking weeks and my parents wouldn't even notice. It's a bubble where my own brother hasn't looked me in the eye or spoken two words to me for the past three years. It's a fucking bubble where I am terrified that I-" He stops abruptly, before placing his fist over his lips.

The veins on his neck are popping, and his eyes are red - My insides clench when our eyes meet again. He's looking at me with so much anger, hurt, disappointment - as if he felt that I was the only person who would understand but I failed him.

Great, now I feel like a first degree bitch. Fucking hell, I hate that he's my weak spot - that I can't stand myself when I say shit like that to him.

"I'm sorry," I breathe out. I look away, focusing on the traffic ahead of us because I know that if I look at him, my voice will break. "It's just - It's been really fucking hard lately," I swallow the lump in my throat.

And it's true - I feel like the universe won't stop fucking testing me: my dad going back to dealing, seeing Elsie, and all the terrifying feelings that come up when I think of Logan - it's too much.

Seven seconds of silence pass between us, letting the words sink in. I try to take a deep breath in but my chest hurts and I'm terrified to look at him. But I do - in a swift moment, I glance over to meet his eyes. His clear emerald green eyes stare back at me like he can see right through me, and it terrifies me that he can.

Because I know that what he sees is ruins - shattered bits that I've been trying to put together for years and I'm still trying but every time I do the cracks get a bit wider.

He lets out a long exhale. "I know."

I stare down at my hands, realizing that I should probably start the car and drive already, but my hands are tied. It feels like one of those moments when the silence is way too loud to do anything.

"Hey, Em?"

"Yeah?"

"I hate it when we fight."

I gulp. Don't do this, goddamn it. Don't make me fall for you.

I don't trust my voice to speak, so I just nod once.

"Also, do you maybe want to get fucking trashed at a bar nearby since we're in the city?"

I take a deep breath. "Abso-freaking-lutely."