Without Me

Chapter Five: Emerson

Golden sunlight filters through my window... wait... not my window.

My heart beat a panicked staccato until my fingers found the plush velvet of Kate's purple, second-hand couch and I smelled the vanilla candles she lights like a second source of oxygen.

Thank god.

The sun's warmth felt heavenly on my skin, but pierced like shards of glass in my partially open eyes.

I'de just squeezed them shut again when a buzzing filled my head and I reached under the pillow in a groggy panic to shut off the six am alarm I was smart enough to set. Plenty of time to get the girls and get to work on time.

Work.

I wish this was one of those times where the details of the previous night evaded me, but I remember it all. Every tiny, embarrassing second. My desperate need to forget the familiar handwriting. The freedom as my blood warmed and my vision turned fuzzy. And then Wes. Funny. Cocky. An unexpected white knight... until I lost the contents of my stomach and he silently walked me the 100 feet to Kate's door - carful not to touch me, to so much as look at me. His last words before he turned on his heel and left was a snide, "hungover or not, I expect you to be on time tomorrow."

And just like that, any warmth I felt for him shriveled up and died a cold, horrible death. Prick.

The only bedroom door in the small, messy apartment creaked open.

"Uhg." Kate stumbled past me on her way to the bathroom. One side of her short, dark hair mussed up like she stuck her finger in a socket or someone yanked on it all night. "Now you know how I feel for once."

"I'm an idiot. I can't believe last night actually happened."

The bathroom light flicked on and I heard her groan. "What can't you believe? That your fine ass started a bar fight?" She leaned out the door smirking. "Or you puked on Mr. Sexy?"

Standing, I shoved my phone in an old canvas shoulder bag I use as a purse and slip my feet into sneakers. "I'm already regretting telling you... and he's not sexy."

"Liar," she laughs.

Bananas overflow from a basket on her tiny counter and I grab one before reaching the door. "I mean, he's not ugly, but his soul is evil and slutty, therefore he holds zero appeal for me."

She crosses the room heading back to bed. "Uh huh. You just keep telling yourself that."

***

"Where were you last night?" Bea's starring daggers at me from the far side of the truck cab as I turn off Bridge street. It's another cloudless day and a warm breeze drifts through the open windows. Annie, squished in the middle, pages through what must be her second novel this week... some sort of romance who's title and age appropriateness I should probably google.

I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I told you, I spent the night at Kate's."

"You should have called us last night."

"It was late, I thought you'd be sleeping." Liar, liar pants on fire. "I'm sorry if I worried you."

She crossed her arms and stared out the window as we passed one quaint house after another. "I wasn't worried."

An awkward silence filled the tiny space and I tried to breathe as little as possible, certain that I still had alcohol wafting from my pores. Afraid to be a bad role model and constantly worried I'm screwing up where they're concerned.

Five minutes later we pulled into the gravel lot. The honey colored lodge surrounded by tall, maintained pines was a riot of activity. Smaller kids run by hand in hand. Some older kids carry canoes. A tall, familiar form runs over as I shift the truck into park.