BROKEN VOWS (Broken Redemption Book 1)

Chapter 15

Lucas

By the time I get Embree and the girls home, I’m even more on edge. Between the incident at dinner, the sad look in Jenny’s eyes when I confirmed I’m leaving, and the conversation with Ben about Embree’s situation, I’m growing more conflicted by the second. As if my departure isn’t hard enough, the weight of what I’m leaving behind is catching up to me.

There’s so much that’s pulling at me to stay, including the prospect of finding new purpose in the job Ben offered. But, if experience has taught me anything is that I’ve got to be careful here. I can’t allow those seeds of hope to take root and cloud my judgment. In the end, nothing good could come of this. Only more heartache, pain, and disappointment when invariably my life comes apart again. When the universe, in all her sadistic glory, steps in to reclaim what little happiness I may find. In my current state, I can’t afford to get attached, for I don’t know if I can survive losing yet another thing that matters to me.

Running a hand over my face, I curse myself for even thinking of not leaving. For letting doubt seep into what I know is the best path forward for me and them. Plus, why bother to get wrapped up in complications that have nothing to do with me? It’s not like I have any control over the situation with Embree. It’s not like I have anything to offer her in terms of help or support. So why the hell can’t I shake this feeling that she needs me?

“Because you’re in love with her.” That annoying voice inside my head nags at me as if I could ever forget. Especially now that I’ve seen her with my own eyes. Now that I’ve experienced the warm softness of her body in my arms. Now that I’ve stared into those eyes and felt the re-awakened connection that binds me to her at a cellular level. For the first time, I want to be the man who stays. The one who protects and takes care of her. But f**k! How can I take care of her if I can’t even take care of myself?

“Hey, are you okay?” She asks in a tender voice as she takes a seat on the other end of the couch. She’s turned in her seat facing me, after having spent the past hour since we arrived, bathing the girls, and wrangling them off to bed. It gave me plenty of time to think and way too much time to look at the life she’s built with another man.

“All good, just thinking,” I answer, trying to act casual when inside, I’m a jumbled mess of twisted emotions.

Afraid she’ll see through me, I avert my gaze to the light blue walls of her living room. Images of her girls at various ages adorn the walls in intricate frames, but the signature piece of the room is the collage of wedding photos hung neatly over the stone fireplace. She looks so damn happy in those pictures. So god damn beautiful, which only hammers home that I’ve been in love with this girl my entire life.

Though I’m glad she got her happily ever after, looking at the pictures makes my chest constrict and my gut churn. The sight of her in that beautiful white gown as she stands next to someone who isn’t me tears out my heart. Instantly I despise him, but the anger and vitriol I feel towards him is nothing compared to what I feel towards myself, since I was the one who left her.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Stuff. Life. How unbelievable it is that I’m here in Ruby Creek, sitting in your house with you.” I shrug my shoulders and force a smile that I hope hides the misery bleeding out from every crevice of my dark soul. “Or maybe I’m wondering how it’s possible that your living room looks so much like your parent’s living room. Back then, in the house where you grew up.”

“I can’t believe you remember that.” There’s a burst of wistful laughter in her voice, but I don’t miss the hint of sadness that falls over her face at the memory. “I did it purposely. Dad loved colors, which is what I miss most about him. It’s why when we got this place, the first thing I did was paint the walls to match how he painted our house.”

“Let me guess, we’re in The Sky Room?” I wave a hand around the space in jest, remembering the names assigned to the rooms of her childhood home. When her face lights up with the brightest smile I’ve seen from her yet, my heart does that weird squeezing thing again. She steals my breath.

“I can’t believe you remember that, too.”

“I remember everything about you,” I tell her, and my smile fades as that feeling of melancholy returns. The only comfort I’ve found in the 15 years I’ve been gone is in those memories of her. Memories that soothed, yet never dulled the throbbing emptiness that continued to grow with every second we’ve been apart.

“It’s surreal having you here. It’s just… something I never thought would happen, or maybe I was afraid to hope. I think it was easier to assume that you were gone. That you would never come back.” Her eyes cast down toward her hands and it’s then I notice the slight tremor in her fingers. It takes everything I have to stay put. To not reach for her hands and pull her into my arms, but that urge is smothered when she asks, “Is there really a reason you can’t stay?”

Yes!

That’s the response I should give her, but the word gets stuck behind the knot of uncertainty that consumes me. Sighing, I stand and force myself to walk towards the wall that’s like poison to my soul. Looking up, I inspect the images of her wedding day. The simple, yet elegant white dress that’s cinched at her slim waist before falling away in a beautiful cascade of lace and tulle. Thank God I wasn’t there to watch her walk down the aisle toward him. Except if I had been, I would have made damn sure it was me who she walked towards on that blessed day.

“You look beautiful. Happy.” I tell her gruffly, never looking away from the image of her in that dress. When she doesn’t respond, I turn to face the whiskey eyes that shimmer behind pools of unshed emotion. “I’m glad you got that. That you found happiness after everything.”

Overwhelmed by our combined sadness, I look away. The unresolved tension from our past is pulling us down, and it feels like we’re both drowning in an ocean of painful regrets.

“I was happy.” Her voice is so low I almost miss it. What I don’t miss is the way her answer implies that the happiness she’s referring to is in the past.

“Are you not happy now?” No sooner are the words out of my mouth that I wish I could take them back. No matter her answer, it changes nothing. In the end, she’s still married and I’m still broken.

Thankfully, she doesn’t respond. Instead, she gets to her feet and comes to stand next to me. Her eyes turn up, scanning the images of what I imagine was one of the happiest days of her life. That thought alone is enough to sour my gut.

“I don’t know what I am anymore.” Though her voice is steady as she speaks, there’s a hint of despondency in her tone. “Sometimes I think I am, but then other times…” she stops, her words falling away with the weight of everything she’s left unsaid.

Clearing my throat, I swallow down the words I want to say and replace them with ones that will get us back to safer ground. “Ben said you don’t attend Sunday dinners anymore. Did you go tonight because of me?”

“Yes, but also for the girls. I wanted them to meet you and figured it was the perfect occasion for them to spend time with the rest of the family.”

“Emb,” my movements uncertain, I reach for the crook of her arm and gently tug her around so she’s facing me. “As glad as I was to see you, please don’t put yourself in that situation again. Not for me.”

At this, she gives me a gentle smile before she says, “It wasn’t all bad. The girls had a nice time, and they got to meet you.” Her smile fades as a faraway look comes over her. “And anyway, I’m partly to blame for what happened. I should have expected it.”

“How could you possibly think you’re responsible for that?” I ask incredulously.

Not bothering to answer, she goes back to the couch and takes a seat. Lifting her glass of water from the coffee table, she brings it to her lips. It’s like she’s buying time while she figures out what to say. When she sets the glass down, she lets out a breath.

“I’ve been lying to them. For a while now.” She rests her head back against the couch, her face tipped up toward the ceiling. “The crazy part is I thought I could do this. That all I had to do was buy myself some time and eventually things would return to normal. I’ve been working so hard to keep up appearances, maintaining the pretense that things in my life are perfect. That I’m not a mess. That my marriage at this point isn’t a sham. That I’m not the failure Harold insists I am.” She shakes her head before she leans forward, her neck and shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’ve always hated him for that. The way he can see through to the worst parts of me.”

“f**k him, Embree.” I take a seat on the coffee table in front of her, positioning myself close enough so I can look but not touch her. “I know guys like him. The bullshit he spewed tonight wasn’t about you. What he said came from a place of malice, because tearing others down is what he does to make himself feel better about his miserable life. What he said isn’t a reflection of who you are, but of the awful human he is.”

She sighs like she doesn’t believe me. A lock of her wavy brown hair falls over her face, and I stare in awe as she reaches to tuck it behind her ear. She’s so damn beautiful that not being able to touch her right now hurts my f*****g soul. More than anything, I want to comfort her. To help her see the amazing woman that I see. I want to be the one to exorcise her demons and the one who destroys anyone who dares hurt her.

“He is awful, but he’s also right. My life is a mess and by pretending otherwise, I’ve only made things worse.”

“Embree, if anyone understands the power of pretending, it’s me. It’s a defense mechanism that allows you the illusion of having control when it feels like you have none. It shields you from having to face unspeakable hardship and sometimes, it’s the only way to make it through the day. That you pretend to be okay doesn’t make you a bad person. It makes you someone who’s doing her best to get through a difficult time.”

I don’t miss the irony, as I repeat the words that have been said to me by countless therapists. Words that I still struggle to believe are true when applied to me and what I’ve been through.

“No. Actually, it makes me a liar.” This time when she speaks, she looks straight at me. “A lie by omission is still a lie.” Her eyes are a flood of angry emotions, though the tremble in her chin gives away how sad she is. Reaching for her hand, I give it a gentle squeeze.

“Your truth is yours, and yours alone, Embree. Holding onto it, no matter the reason, doesn’t make you a liar. Whatever’s happening in your life is no one’s business but yours, just like it’s up to you to decide when or with whom to share it. The people who love and care about you know this and will understand.”

Her eyes shift between mine as she processes my words. Suddenly, her breath hitches and a deep look of sorrow falls over her face.

“What if I am ready to share my truth, but can’t?” she asks at the same time a lone tear slides down her cheek.

“Then you start with one person. Someone you trust and go from there.”

“No, I mean, what if I’ve been told I can’t tell anyone?”

The way she says it this time gets my immediate attention. It taps into the soldier in me, the one who knows and understands the importance of keeping secrets for the sake of the mission. After my conversation with Ben tonight, it aligns with our theory and worries the f**k out of me.

“That depends on who told you to keep it a secret,” I respond calmly, not wanting to give away the seriousness of the situation. As I wait for her to tell me more, I watch her closely. It’s then that I catch hints of her fear. It’s there, written in the way her hands wring together on her lap as her eyes scan mine like she’s assessing. Like she’s trying to work out how much of her truth she should give me. Afraid she’s having second thoughts, I decide it’s best to give her a gentle push. To know what she’s up against, I need her to reveal at least this bit of truth. “Who told you to keep it a secret, Embree?”

It takes her a few tries. Her mouth opens and then closes until finally she utters the name. “Special Agent Robert Kessler.” The minute it’s out of her mouth, her eyes go frantic. Bouncing between mine, like she’s desperately searching. No. Not searching, pleading. But for what?

“What is it, Emb? Did this special agent tell you why?” I ask, re-taking her hand in mine. Nodding her head yes, I watch helplessly as silent tears spill down her cheeks. When her face contorts in deep pain, a hard sob falls from her lips.

“It’s killing me...” she cries.

The anguish in her voice rips at my chest. I want to hold her in my arms, to comfort and take away her pain, but I can’t. Not now. Not when I need to pay close attention to the things she doesn’t say, just as much as what she does.

“What is it, Embree? What’s killing you?” I urge, encouraging her to keep talking.

“He’s gone. And I don’t know if he’s ever coming back.” As if it’s all too much, her body collapses forward, and she buries her face in her hands. Determined to keep her focused, I crouch down in front of her and take both of her hands.

“Gone where, Emb? What did they tell you?”

“They said he’s missing. They told me I’m not supposed to tell anyone, but that if I hear from him, I’m to call them immediately.” She says through heart-wrenching sobs.

With confirmation that what we suspected is true, a whole new wave of terrifying concerns emerge. Questions like, is she safe? Could the consequences of what happened to her husband find their way back to her or her girls?

“Okay, sweetheart. What else can you tell me?” I reach up to cup her face, my thumbs wiping away the stream of tears as they fall. “Talk to me, Embree. Whatever it is, give it to me. Let me help you figure it out.”

“He served me with divorce papers before he left.” She blurts out and her eyes fall close, as if admitting this bit of truth out loud causes her physical pain.

Divorce papers?

The words accelerate my heart until it’s pounding away in my chest. That he served her before disappearing cannot be a coincidence. For a moment I’m lost to the anger, to the fury of what he’s done to the woman I love, but all it takes is one look into those heartbroken eyes for me to remember that she, is what’s at stake here. Everything I do from this point forward has to be about what’s best for her.

“I refused to sign them. I wanted to wait until he came back, but now, I don’t know what to do.”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“Two months after he left. He called to confirm the papers were signed and filed.” She sighs, her sobs quieting as a look of resignation falls over her. “I couldn’t do it. It was the last conversation we had, and we spent it arguing over whether or not to end our marriage.”

When she pulls her hands away to wipe her tears, I get the sense she needs the space. As much as it pains me to let her go, I stand and take the seat next to her. Seconds pass as we both sit in silence, processing the enormity of everything she’s shared.

When several more minutes pass, I rub the back of my neck. I want to help her. I do. But I have to be careful not to give the impression that I’m staying in town.

“Tell me what you need, Embree?”

“What?” From the corner of my eye, I see her turn her head to look at me.

“I can help.” While keeping my eyes on the pictures of her little girls, I clasp my hands together in front of me. “I have friends. People in the government who I trust, and who owe me favors. They’re the type of people who can get the answers we need without alerting the FBI. All you need to do is ask, and I’ll call in those favors.”

As she considers my offer, I watch her in my periphery. Her hands wring together on her lap and the scowl on her face deepens. Like she knows that I’m watching, she gives me a silent nod.

“Say it, Embree. With words. Tell me what you need.”

“Okay. Yes. Please help me. I need to know what happened to him, and if this is about the divorce, then fine, I’ll give it to him. I just need to know that he’s okay, so I can figure out what to do next.”

“I’ll make the calls first thing tomorrow, though I need one more thing from you. I’d like to bring Ben in on this…”

Her face pales, and her eyes fill with panic as she interrupts. “No! You don’t understand. They told me no one can know or they’ll come after me. They’ll arrest me. I can’t take that chance… not with the girls. No one can know, Lucas. Promise me they won’t find out I’ve told you about this.”

“Hey…” I scoot closer to her and pull her into my arms, “I promise. They won’t find out. I’m taking this only to people that I trust with my life. Alright?” When she doesn’t respond, I press her. “Say it, Embree. I want your words. Say you trust me to help while keeping your secret safe.”

“Yes, okay, I trust you. So, what now?” She pulls away, and by her sharp tone, I can tell she’s not happy with me. Still, it’s a welcomed change compared to the utter devastation that consumed her moments ago.

“I’ll reach out to my friends at the Department of Justice and Department of Defense. They’re people I trust to keep my inquiry confidential.” I look over in time to see her nod. Bracing, I decide to push her on the one thing I know she doesn’t want. “I have to bring Ben and his team in on this…”

“No…” she stands and begins to pace. “No. You heard what I said. They can’t know. I wasn’t supposed to tell…” Once again she’s frantic, her voice full of fear as she panics.

Going to her, I reach for her face, forcing her to look at me.

“Do you trust me?” I ask her, my voice sharp as I struggle to rein in my frustration.

I hate seeing her so upset, but most of all I hate that it’s me that’s making her feel unsafe. She stares up at me for a few breaths before closing her eyes and giving me a slow nod.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart. For this conversation, I need your undivided attention.” When she does, I drop a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I love you, Embree. I always have, and always will. It’s why no matter what, I will do right by you. I can’t promise that we’ll bring him home, but I swear I will get you answers. However, our chances are better with Ben’s help. He has the resources I’ll need. Resources that will help us piece it all together much faster. So, I ask that you please trust me. Give me your permission to tell Ben and I’ll make this our top priority until we get you answers.”

She takes a few seconds, but then finally relents.

“Words Embree. I need to hear you say it.”

“Okay, fine. Yes. You can tell him.”

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Author’s Note:

Finally, the truth comes out and I love that it was Lucas she decided to confide in! Maybe it's because Lucas used to be her sounding board when she was a kid, or maybe it's that his detachment from the family makes it easier for her to speak her truth. Whatever it is, Lucas realizes he's in a unique position to help.

So what do you think? Is what Emilia disclosed to Lucas what you expected was happening with her husband? Do you think it's enough to make Lucas extend his stay in Ruby Creek? I can’t wait to read all your comments!

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