Emilia
Finally. I think to myself as I turn right at the end of the driveway. Leaving our makeshift prison feels like liberation. Driving my own car for the first time in almost three months, with my two little munchkins chatting away in the back seat, is such a relief. That we're getting to do this means so much to me, I can't keep from smiling even as silent tears roll down my cheek.
"Mama, why are you crying?"
Meeting Alyssa's eyes through the rearview mirror, I tell her, "These are happy tears, baby. I'm happy because I can't wait to see the lake. We're going to have so much fun." I smile wide as I look at them, my heart fit to burst at the joy on their little faces.
Sneaking a glance, I spot the black SUV following close behind us. It's a stark reminder that, though we're out of the house, we're not yet free. It's an ominous reality that months since that dreaded day when the FBI showed up at my door issuing threats, we're no closer to a resolution. In the beginning, I understood the plan: go to ground and hide while Ben's team worked to free us from the mess Creed made. The problem is that the longer this goes on, the harder it becomes to live this way. Something has got to give, but that's a problem for another day.
Right now, everything is fine. We're safe and happy. Today is a good day.
The sound of ringing interrupts my thoughts and Lucas's name flashes on the display. As I debate whether to answer or send him to voicemail, Alyssa—who only just learned to read this year—yells out his name.
"Look, it's Uncle Lucas!"
Glancing their way, my heart sinks at the sight of my little girls nearly vibrating with excitement at the prospect of speaking with the man they've grown to adore. The very same man who hasn't bothered to reach out in the five days he's been gone, and who hasn't returned to see them, despite being back in town, staying at the Inn just a few miles from the house. Much like their father, Lucas is failing them too, a fact that fills me with fury given everything I've shared with him. I warned him not to do this. Begged him to protect their little hearts, which was my first mistake. Knowing Lucas's history, I should have protected them by not letting him get close enough to hurt them.
With no other choice, I answer his call, swallowing down the anger and resentment eating me whole. "Hi, Lucas. You're on speaker. The girls want to say hello." Forcing a cheerful tone into my voice, I fake a smile. To the girls, it seems friendly enough, but I'm sure Lucas hears the warning behind my words.
"Emb..." He sounds out of breath. "Girls...I'm on a run, so can't talk much. Stay on the phone with me until you get to the park."
"Hi, Uncle Lucas."
"Hi, Uncle Wuc."
The girls sing song almost in unison. Thankfully, neither is aware of the tension hanging between us, especially at his demand. The act he's putting on, pretending to care even though he can't be bothered to come home, is grating. It burns me up inside, further darkening my already sour mood. Everything in me wants to hang up the phone, to make him worry by cutting him out of our lives just like he's attempting to cut us out of his. But because of the girls, I can't. Nor can I call him out for his careless handling of our hearts. It isn't fair that for the sake of my daughters, I'm always the one forced to take the high road. Even more unfair is how these men don't understand or value the gift that is the love and trust of a child. What Creed has done, and what Lucas is doing to my daughters, is something I'm not sure I'll ever forgive.
"Hey, girls. Heard you're on your way to the park." His words escape between harsh breaths, and in the background, I can hear the sound of his feet pounding on the pavement. The speed at which he seems to be moving leaves me wondering if he's pushing that hard to get to us.
Would he try to stop us now?
After everything, would he have the nerve to force us back behind the walls of our prison, even as he remains on the outside—our self-appointed jailor?
"Yep. We're going to see the lake and play on the playground. Mama brought us water and snacks. You should come meet us." Her request for him to meet us further breaks my heart, especially when he doesn't bother to acknowledge it.
"Great. That's great. Sounds like a lot of fun."
Having had enough, for the next ten minutes, I purposely tune out their conversation. Stewing, I contemplate the fury simmering within me versus the giddy feelings he's bringing out in the girls.
How did we get here?
The question sends a stab of pain through my sternum, and this time the tears that slide down my face have nothing to do with happiness. I'm so damn frustrated, and I haven't a clue what to do with all these negative feelings, especially as I'm still so in love and so darn desperate for the man at the root of my suffering. At least with Creed, my anger didn't stem from hurt, but from his unwillingness to stand by the vows he made.
When the "Welcome to Ruby Creek Park" sign appears, the girls' shrieks of excitement pull me back into the moment. Whereas my enthusiasm rivaled theirs at the start of our journey, hearing them now only compounds my feelings of guilt. I should have fought to do this sooner. I should have demanded their lives not be upended in the name of keeping us safe. As their mother, I should have stepped up and done more to advocate for their needs.
No sooner do I pull into the parking lot than the hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end. I feel it before I even see it—a change in the air. A dark energy that swirls around us, bogging down time, slowing it to a crawl as it sucks the oxygen straight out of the atmosphere, leaving us gasping for breath.
And then I hear it.
A loud crash.
An ear-splitting blast.
Without meaning to, I slam the brakes just as, through the rearview mirror, I watch the black SUV behind us burst into a ball of flames. As if caught in a time warp, I watch the front end slowly lift into the air, sending the vehicle flying until it crashes on its side several feet away, wheels still spinning.
It's not until I hear Alyssa scream that I jump into action, but by then, it's too late. My door opens with a whoosh, and the next thing I know, a gloved hand has me by the hair. Yanking me from the car, I fall hard onto the gravel lot, the pain barely registering as I fight to get free, desperate to reach my girls, who are both now screaming.
"Embree, talk to me. What's happening?" Lucas's voice roars from the speakers of my CRV, reminding me he's still there. My Lucas. Our lifeline.
"Lucas!" I try to scream, but his name is all I can manage before a smothering hand comes over my face, stealing my consciousness and sinking me into darkness.
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Author's Note:
Though I hate that Embree's decision has contributed to what happened in this scene, a part of me understands the decisions she's made to this point.
I'd love to hear what you think of this scene. Are you angry with Emilia for pushing for this outing or are you angrier with Lucas for his decision not to come home?
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BROKEN COURAGE (Broken Redemption Book 3)
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