Worth Any Risk

Ch. 25 Empty Places

*Jordan

I manage to walk inside and shut the door, then I crumple to the linoleum and stay there. I think I'm crying. I know at some point I crawl up the stairs and make my way down the hallway.

I wake up, cramped and aching, curled up on the floor in Emma's bedroom. I don't even remember opening her door.

It smells musty and stale, there's nothing of her sweet, natural baby smell left from when she was here. The rocker is in the corner near the window, a knitted blanket on the arm. It's dusty. The dresser is dusty, too. Over her toddler bed, short and low to the ground with a safety bar, so she wouldn't hurt herself, is still the baby animals mobile I bought before she was born. I uncurl myself, wincing at my stiff joints and many bruises, and go to her dresser. I pull out a drawer.

Her little clothes are all folded and perfectly organized. Flowery dresses, tiny shirts, leggings, and little socks bundled in pairs.

She's five now. She must have grown so much and when she comes home, she'll need all new clothes and toys. A new bed. New furniture. I turn in a slow circle, arms outstretched.

Nothing would fit her anymore. Nothing in this room would be any use to her.

I have dozens of moms with babies coming to the center every week, and many of them would love to have such beautiful clothes and safe toys for their babies, and I have Emma's things horded here like treasure. Like I'm some kind of dragon sleeping on hard, useless gold.

Then it hits me—this room isn't hers anymore. I've kept it neat and exactly the same. It's a shrine to a baby who will come home a different child, and not the baby I knew. I have refused to come in here for all these years, as if I might disturb her peace. As if she was napping and I might wake her up on accident. I've refused to let my life move forward, but hers is. There's nothing I can do to stop it, and I don't believe anything bad has happened to her. That's not possible. Trey was too proud to not at least pretend to be a good dad. She's alive and with him. She's growing and changing, but I've kept her things as if she would always be a baby.

I walk out of the room and to my bedroom. It's dawn and the house is quiet and still, holding its breath.

No. I'm holding my breath. I'm tiptoeing through life, afraid to make noise. I stand in the doorway, frowning at my furniture. The bed belonged to my mom and dad, with a mattress from Trey's parents. The other furniture is pieced together from antique shops and my parents. I hate it. All of it.

I rush out, sick to my stomach, and stumble down the stairs to the living room. It's the same down here—borrowed pieces of other people's lives crowded into my space. Old sofas and chairs, pillows and a throw from discount bins, recycled picture frames, empty spaces where Trey's pictures hung and I've never bothered to put anything else up. Nothing is mine. Nothing means anything to me. I go to the kitchen which has always been my haven. I loved to cook with my mother there and after she died, I took over meal duties with my oldest sister Reese.

It's just another lifeless room. I collapse on a chair and rest my elbows on the table. I gave up Cole for this house in this town, thinking it would magically give me my family back. I put my financial freedom above my physical one, not thinking for a minute that there are other jobs out there. And not a single person in my family cares about coming back to this house. I might never see my sisters again. One day, I swear to myself, Emma will come back to me, but this house is nothing to her. She won't have a single memory of it.

I might as well be in California, or anywhere, for all it will matter to her. My fingers twitch to call Sharon out of habit. Whenever it was too much, whenever I couldn't bear the pain of not having Emma, I would call Sharon. I wouldn't even have to tell her why I was upset, she would know and she would chat about her crazy life and customers at the bar. She would lead me away from my pain until I could stand it again.

I threw my best friend away like garbage.

Only one thing can make this sacrifice worth it all. If I can find Emma, it will be all right. I'll forget Cole and the possibility of loving him and being loved.

I make a decision. I need to talk to them—those women who adored Trey so blindly that they never saw the monster. I'm ready to drive off that instant when I realize it's barely five in the morning and I haven't brushed my hair or teeth since yesterday morning. If I show up looking crazy and wake them, they'll call the police.

I take a deep breath and tell myself to make some coffee. Go change my clothes. Touch up my make-up, eat a yogurt and then brush my teeth. I force myself to wait until it's seven thirty and I'm sure they'll be up.

Then I grab my keys. My hand hits the empty wall under my key hook.

I stare at it stupidly until I remember that I crashed my car yesterday and I have no way of getting over to Trey's mother's house where she and Eryn live. I have no car, no money and I've alienated the only two people in town who ever stood by me, loving me. They surely don't love me anymore. I crouch on my floor and scream.

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