BROKEN COURAGE (Broken Redemption Book 3)

Chapter 23

Emilia

He's not coming back.

The thought repeats itself over and over again with every passing minute I wait for him to come home. The last and only time we talked was Monday, the first day of his five-day assignment, and based on that conversation, he should have been back last night. After a sleepless night, I finally gave up around 3:00 am, getting up and out of bed only to find a text message from him telling me he wouldn't be home and that he loved me.

That was it.

After days of missing his voice, his touch, his very existence in our everyday lives, all I got was a text. Of all the scenarios that came to mind, I never imagined this. Him not coming home. Him not bothering to call to explain why he was delayed or how long he would be gone.

For hours after discovering the message, I sat in the darkness of our living room, hoping against logic that despite it, he would walk through the door at any moment. When the girls woke, I washed my tear-stained face and scolded myself for falling back into a pattern I thought was long behind me—waiting for yet another man to do right by me, to love me, to put me and the girls first. I'm still shaking my head at my stupidity.

"Emilia, have a second?" James's worried expression shifts between me and the girls playing on the floor in front of where I sit, nursing my first cup of coffee.

"Of course." I smile—fake, distant, disconnected. Walking around the girls, I meet him by the foyer where he stands, shifting nervously.

"Uh, I spoke to Ben. He wanted you to know the guys returned last night, but that something came up. Lucas won't be back for another few days."

James is a great guy. Over the past few months, I've gotten to know the honest man behind the nonchalant gaze and light-hearted smiles. A man of leisure, he's the type who seeks and indulges in all the pleasures life has to offer without so much as a care in the world. But behind the cool mask lies a man who values honesty and trust above all else. As the child of a drug addict, trust doesn't come easy for him and lies don't come at all, which is why as he stands in front of me fidgeting I know there is more to the story than he is willing or able to say.

With my heart caught in my throat, my breath stalls. "He-He's avoiding me, isn't he? Is he not planning to come back at all?"

"I'm sure it's nothing like that," he scratches the back of his neck. It would be easier to believe him if he could bring himself to look at me. His discomfort is so apparent it's humiliating. Unwilling to give in to the tears that threaten to fall, I turn and walk away, leaving James sighing loudly behind me. I can sense him searching for the right words to set my mind at ease, but like he's exhausted by our exchange, he gives up and lets me walk away.

Back in the living room, I turn my attention to the girls, catching the beginning of yet another argument between them. It's been a tough summer for all of us. Being stuck behind the walls of the property has proven more challenging than I ever imagined, even as I've done my best to keep the girls busy.

From outdoor adventures through the forest at the back of the property, to picnics on the grass by the playground Lucas built for them. We've enjoyed many nights catching fireflies as the sun sets, then roasted marshmallows and made s'mores at the firepit. We've had water play days where we've splashed in the small wading pool or slipped down the slip-and-slide until they were so tired they had to be carried inside and tucked straight into bed. But after weeks of the same, the novelty has long worn off, leaving them just as tired and frustrated as I feel. Like me, the girls desperately need an outing. Anything to break up the monotony and escape the stifling weight of the walls caging us.