At Any Turn - Page 96/113

So did we. My throat clenched tightly. I couldn’t even swallow.

When dinner came, Emilia dipped a piece of bread into her soup and ate it slowly. I watched her while I wolfed down bites of my taco.

“So…” I began, suddenly feeling awkward.

She swallowed her soup-soaked crust of bread and looked up at me.

“Are you going to catch that Doctor Who Christmas special with anyone?”

Her jaw clenched. “No. I’ll probably watch it alone.”

I frowned. “Not even Alex and Jenna?”

“Jenna is going home for winter break. Alex will be busy with family stuff.”

“If you wanted to…you could come watch it with me in the theater room.”

Her face went blank. “Adam, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Don’t push this, okay? I came here to talk to you about Christmas—”

My fist closed on the table in frustration. “We’re done talking about Christmas. I want to know about you.”

She picked up her napkin and wiped her mouth. “I have to get going now.”

A fresh bolt of pain shot through my head so suddenly I gasped, pressing my hand to my temple.

“Do you have a headache?”

I glared at her. “Do you care?”

“Of course I do.”

“Talk to me, Emilia.”

Instead she grabbed her bag and stood up. “Please, Adam. I’ll see you at Christmas, okay? I promise to be a perfect grown-up about it.”

I watched as she walked out. Maybe I’d bring that obnoxious blonde intern with me and see how grown-up she’d be about that.

I put my head in my hands, only half-finished with my taco plate. That detested feeling of utter helplessness washing over me. I closed my eyes and instead of seeing Emilia in my mind, I saw Bree…

“Get back on the bus, Adam! You don’t belong here.”

I tug on her sleeve, pulling her with me. “You have to come with me. You have to! I’m not leaving until you do.”

I’m so adamant, I stamp my foot, folding my arms across my chest.

“No!” she screeches. The people around us turn and stare. She claws her hands through the air like a crazy woman. “You have to go! This is not the place for you. You’re not staying here.”

“Come with me!”

Her eyes are hollow, haunted. “I can’t. I can’t go back. I’m not as strong as you are.”

I cinch my arms around her and start to cry. “Please. You are the only person in the world I care about, Bree. Please come back.”

She pushes me back on the bus, but I’m stubborn, I drop my backpack, slip around her arms and step back off. She screams again, tears on her cheeks.

“I’m going to kill myself, Adam. If you don’t get on that bus, I’ll lie down in the street until someone runs over me.”

She grabs my backpack and launches it at me, her pale cheeks flushing with the first sign of color in the days since I had been with her.

I’m crying now. Sobbing. “Bree!”

But the bus driver is dragging me back, pushing me into a seat. His hands aren’t gentle and he growls a warning at me that he’ll be pulling out soon and if I take one step off the bus, he’ll leave me in downtown Seattle alone.

But all I can do is press my wet cheek to the window. I’m sobbing so hard I can’t move. I can hardly catch the next breath. Hiccups are starting and another one of those really bad headaches that feels like someone is chopping my head open.

Minutes later the bus pulls away. And she stands there watching me, balanced on the curb, looking wraithlike in that massive, poorly fitting coat. Her cheeks pale and hollow. She’s dying. I know it even now.

And this would be the last time I’d see her.

That night, I lay in bed staring up at the darkened ceiling, immersed in that same shitty sense of powerlessness. Just like Bree, Emilia was pushing me away, forcing me to back off. And there was not a thing I could do about it.

***

Almost a week later, I was sitting outside the conference room at the offices of my liability insurance company, waiting to go into the dreaded meeting with the families of the victims of Tom Olmquist’s shooting rampage. I was almost trembling with nervous, raw energy. The five miles I’d run on the treadmill this morning had done nothing to diminish it, either.

I worked a hand furiously at my side, staring off into space when Jordan sank into the chair beside me. “So…” he started.

I shook my head. I wasn’t in the mood for his bullshit.