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She stared at him for a long moment. The tears streaming down her face felt like acid burning into her flesh. Before she could answer, the sound of keys jingling in the door ripped their gaze from one another.

Olivia walked in the apartment, the shock on her face palpable. “What the hell are you doing here?” she spat, her eyes hardening in Dillon’s direction.

Running his hands through his hair, he backed away from Emily, his voice heated. “Don’t even fuck with me right now, Olivia.”

“Let me tell you something,” she answered, sauntering over to him, her body movements and tone showing she was in no way intimidated. “If you don’t get the fuck out of my apartment right now, I’m calling the cops. And just to fuck with you further,” she hissed, ramming her finger into his chest, “I’ll make sure to stick my father’s best friend—who happens to be the district attorney—on your ass.”

Mentally depleted and her stomach twisting into knots, Emily ran into her bathroom, landing on her knees in front of the toilet. Her body viciously retched up bile as a heavy flow of tears soaked her eyes.

“You’re a fucking asshole!” Olivia screamed at Dillon, making her way into the bathroom while he followed closely behind her. She hovered over Emily, holding her hair away from her face. “Look what you do to her! Now get the hell out of here!”

“Dillon, please,” Emily managed to get out as her body continued its assault over the toilet, the acrid taste in her mouth stinging against her tongue. “I’ll call you later—just leave.”

He stepped into the bathroom, reaching to help hold Emily’s hair, but Olivia swatted his arm away. “Jesus, did you hear what she said? Leave now, Dillon!”

He scrubbed his hands over his face, stared at Olivia for a second, and with his shoulders slumped and eyes downcast, he walked out of the apartment.

The slamming of the door behind him made Emily’s body jump. Standing to her feet, she leaned against the wall and tried to catch her breath. Olivia gently took her by the arm and helped her over to the sink. Turning it on, Olivia soaked a washcloth under cool water and ran it across Emily’s face as she continued to sob uncontrollably. After brushing her teeth again, Emily swung open the medicine cabinet, her hands shaking as she skimmed over several medications. She was looking for one in particular—a bottle of Valium that her doctor back in Colorado had given a prescription for after her mother died. She filled a plastic cup with water and popped a pill into her mouth, hoping it would temporarily drag her from this nightmare. She then made her way back into the living room.

Falling onto the couch, she covered her eyes with the crease of her arm and tried to compose herself. There were only three days in her entire life she’d remembered feeling like this—the day her mother passed away, the day of her wake, and the day of her burial. Emily’s nerves were shot and sizzled beyond comprehension. All she wanted to do was fade away.

Olivia sat down next to her, lifting Emily’s legs over her lap, her voice riddled with concern. “God, Em, I can’t believe he actually came here. Are you alright?”

Without removing her arm from her face, she nodded.

She sighed, rubbing her hand against Emily’s leg. “Wait until Gavin finds out about this shit. He’s going to freak out,” she said, looking down to her watch. “It’s already five. Aren’t you supposed to meet him at his office soon?”

“No. I’m not going there,” she choked out, beginning to cry again.

Olivia’s brows knitted together. “Em, what’s wrong?”

“When I got to his place this morning, Gina opened the door,” she sobbed, rising from the couch. She walked into the kitchen, shaking her head, still unable to process everything. “She was barely dressed,” she said, letting out a humorless laugh. “And the bastard had the nerve to call and text me all day, too.”

Olivia jumped up from the couch, her eyes wide. “Holy shit, Emily! What?”

“I don’t understand,” she sniffled, reaching for a napkin off the counter. She blew her nose. “I feel like an asshole—like a complete fool. He used me.” She tossed the napkin into the garbage and sat down at the kitchen table, her hands covering her face. Olivia pulled a chair up and stroked Emily’s hair away from her shoulder. “I know what it was though, Liv. He couldn’t have me from the beginning, and I became some sick twisted game for him to conquer.”

“Have you talked to him yet?”

“Hell no, I haven’t talked to him, and I’m not going to.”

“Well, I’m calling the dick. I can’t believe this,” she huffed, rising from her seat. Setting off at a brisk pace, she yanked her purse from the couch and cursed under her breath.

“No, Liv. I don’t want you calling him. He’ll just come here, and I can’t deal with anymore right now.”

She pulled out her phone, essentially ignoring Emily’s words. She glanced down at it. “Looks like I don’t have to call him.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, wiping her nose against the back of her hand.

“I have four missed calls and two texts from him.” Olivia studied them, her eyes widening. “He’s on his way here.”

“What?” Emily hopped up and walked over to Olivia. She grabbed the phone from her and looked over the messages.

Gavin:
I’ve called and left a few texts for Emily. Have you talked to her? I haven’t heard back from her at all, and she should’ve been here already. The ever-impatient and somewhat nervous G.B.

Gavin:
Forget it. I just talked to your brother, and he said Dillon flew back early. I’m on my way over to your apartment. Leaving my office now. G.B.

“I guess you’re talking to him tonight, Emily.”

“No. I can’t deal with him right now.” Starting to cry again, she paced the room. Even with the aid of the Valium working its way through her system, her nerves were no less calm than before. “Between Dillon coming here and everything that’s happened today, I just can’t, Olivia.”

“Well, what are you going to do?” Olivia asked, her voice soft. She walked over to Emily and placed a caring hand on her shoulder. “He sent that last text twenty minutes ago. Even with traffic, he’ll be here any minute now.”

“Tell him I’m sick in bed or something.”

“Friend, if I talk to him, I’m gonna lose it. I love him to absolute death, but I’m so pissed at him right now. There’s no possible way I’d be able to hold back. Then he’ll know everything and still come in to talk to you.”

Without hesitation, Emily moved across the room, plucked her cell off the counter, and sent him a text.

Emily:
I’m fine, Gavin. I’m home sick in bed.

His answering text came relatively quick.

Gavin:
I wish you would’ve told me, sweets. I could’ve taken care of you all day. Be there in five. I’m right around the corner. Do you need me to pick up anything? Love you.

Shaking her head in disgust, she tried to stifle a sob, but it was no use. As her hands trembled, she texted him back.

Emily:
Don’t come here. I’ll talk to you another time.

His next text didn’t come as fast. Emily started to get nervous, but nevertheless, he answered back.

Gavin:
What’s going on, Emily? Is Dillon there with you? I do know he’s back.

“Jesus Christ, he thinks Dillon’s here with me,” she let out, wiping tears from her face. “What do I say now?”

Shaking her head, Olivia let out a sigh. “Emily, you have to talk to him.”

“Liv, I’m not fucking talking to him right now. What do I text him back?”

Emily didn’t wait for her to answer. Instead, she panicked and texted him what she assumed might work.

Emily:
I’m not home right now.

“Well,” Olivia said. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him I wasn’t home.” She tossed her phone onto the table; the thought of smashing it into pieces became more appealing by the second. “Now he won’t come here.”

“Oh my God, Emily. Now he’s definitely coming here.”

“Why would he show up, thinking I’m not even home?” she asked defensively.

“Gavin’s no fool, Emily, that’s why,” she pointed out, walking into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. “If anything, you just drilled it into his head that Dillon’s here with you.”

“He won’t come here,” she replied, sinking herself into the couch.

“Friend, I’m telling you, he’s coming here.”

No sooner had Olivia finished her sentence, a knock came at the door—and a rather hard knock at that.

Heart racing, Emily hopped up from the couch and made her way over to it. She squinted her eye and looked through the peephole, finding Gavin standing in the hallway.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

Olivia walked over to her. “I told you. What the hell are you going to do now?” she asked, her voice as low as Emily’s.

“Tell him I lied about not being here. That I’m really sick in bed sleeping and…” She paused, wiping tears from her eyes as she tried to gather her thoughts. “That I didn’t want him seeing me because I look horrible or something.”

“How the fuck do I keep him from coming in here?” Olivia urgently whispered.

Gavin knocked again, and Emily swore she felt as though someone was holding a gun to her head.

“I have no clue, but don’t say anything to him right now about what I know. I’ll talk to him soon. I just can’t…” her voice trailed off. Cupping her hand over her mouth, she started to cry again.

“Em, I understand, okay?” Emily nodded. “I won’t say anything to him. Just go in your bedroom, turn the lights out, and get into bed. I’ll try to keep him in the hall.”

With her heart in her throat, Emily did as Olivia said and hastily made her way into her bedroom.

Olivia threw the door open, quickly stepped out into the hallway, and snapped the door closed behind her. Crossing her arms, she glared at Gavin.

Gavin stared at her for a moment, his intuition eating away at his stomach. “What the hell’s going on? Is he in there with her?”

“No. He’s not in there with her, Gavin. She’s in bed sick and very alone. She just passed out from some medicine I gave her earlier.”

“First of all, she just texted me less than five minutes ago. Second, why did she change her story all of a sudden?”

“Well, she has a low tolerance for any kind of meds. And, like I said, I gave it to her a good half hour before she texted you.” Olivia drew in a deep breath. “To address her changing her story, let’s just say she’s had a painstakingly tough day, and she looks like shit. She didn’t want you to see her like that.”

The corner of his mouth turned up a smirk. “Do I look like some kind of fucking moron to you, Olivia?” he blurted out, garnering a surprised look from her. “Because if I do, you’re sorely mistaken. If she’s in there trying to work shit out with him, the least she could do is fucking tell me instead of lying.”

“I just told you he’s not here. You’ve known me long enough to know that I’m not a conniving sneaky liar, Gavin.” Letting out a melodramatic sigh, she nonchalantly looked down to her nails. “It’s a shame I can’t say the same thing about
certain
people I know.”

Although confused by it, Gavin could tell there was more behind Olivia’s statement, but he wasn’t about to get into it with her—not then. However, he was definitely going to make sure he wasn’t being played. Walking right past her, he reached for the door and made his way in. With his heart thumping erratically, hitting the pit of his stomach, his eyes scanned the living room for Emily.

“I told you she’s in bed sleeping,” Olivia said insistently.

The word “bed” reverberated through Gavin’s head like a drumroll as a wave of nausea crept over him. Without thinking—and feeling quite like the certified paranoid psychopath he was convinced he was turning into—Gavin bolted down the hall toward Emily’s room.

“Holy shit! What the fuck are you doing, Blake?” Olivia let out, following right behind him. “She’s sleeping.”

Hoping to God Olivia wasn’t lying to him, he slowly opened her door, still trying to keep the woman he loved in his forethoughts. With only the faintest light spilling into the room from the kitchen—indeed showing Emily alone in her bed—Gavin was sure that the sigh of relief that seared from his lungs and passed through his lips had awoken her. He pulled in a heavy breath, leaned against the doorway, and plowed his hands through his hair.

“See? She’s sleeping, Gavin,” Olivia whispered. “Now come on. She doesn’t feel good.”

Gavin felt like a total asshole for not believing the woman he was supposed to trust. He couldn’t leave. He felt frozen to the ground as his ears soaked in the sound of her breathing—the breathing of the woman who’d repeatedly said she loved him less than twenty-four hours ago. By God, he adored and loved her, but even if only for a beat, he’d doubted what she’d told him. He didn’t intend to wake her, but he needed to touch her. He needed to feel some part of his angel’s body. Against the harsh whispers of Olivia’s pleas, Gavin found himself quietly moving across the room. He approached the bed where Emily lay asleep with her back turned toward him. He let a bittersweet smile form on his lips as his fingertips lightly brushed through her hair. He leaned over her, his body movements careful not to wake her, as he grazed the side of her jaw with his knuckles.

“I love you, Emily,” he whispered before he softly kissed the back of her head. “I wish I was here today to take care of you, doll.” That was all he needed—just that little bit—and he knew he’d be able to sleep through the night.

With her breathing increasing by his wanted and unwanted touch, Emily’s head screamed
“you infuriate me; you disgust me; you’ve shattered me”
while her heart cried out
“please stay; I need you in my life; we’re supposed to be amazing together.”
A hot tear trickled down her cheek as her fingernails dug into her clenched fists. But she didn’t move. Her body was still as she heard him leave the room. Olivia walked him out of the apartment—and out of her life. Releasing the breath she had been holding from the moment he’d walked into the apartment, Emily turned over onto her back. Through tear-flooded eyes, she took in the sight of Olivia’s silhouette, standing just outside her door.

Olivia went to walk in, but Emily spoke up. “I just need to be alone,” she cried out. “Okay? I’m…I’m so sorry I put you through that, Olivia. I’m so sor…sorry,” she stuttered through her cries. “Thank you so much. But I just can’t…I ca…can’t talk about it.”