Never Say Never, Part Three (Second Chance Romance, Book 3) (9 page)

“That’s total rubbish. Brian wouldn’t harm a fly. You, however, are a convicted killer, girl.”
It was as if Brian had used her mother’s mouth to speak to her.
 

Old, wheezing and weak with years of a torn relationship behind them, and Mama couldn’t get past it. She couldn’t accept Emily no matter how desperately she tried to impress her.
 

Tears came on milliseconds later. “Mom, I don’t know what to do, I need help.”
 

“Of course you do.”
Mama sighed into the receiver and Emily peeled the label off the wine bottle, hoping that it was some indication that her mother was about to soften up for a change.
 

“I can’t –
l “

“This is all your fault, Emily. You brought it on yourself. You should have left those kids well enough alone. You’re a hooker for heaven’s sakes. Do you really think you deserve time with them when you’re only going to end up ruining their lives further?”
 

“I won’t and I’m not.”
Emily drank deeply and the wine slopped into her lap.
 

“Don’t bother lying to me, girl, I’ve seen through your acts since you were a little girl. Always your daddy’s favorite, but without enough common sense to keep yourself out of trouble. You’re an embarrassment.”
 

“I can’t believe this. You’re my mother,”
Emily yelled it, “you’re my mother, you’re supposed to love me!”
She couldn’t keep the pain in anymore, it spilled over just as the wine had.
 

“No. I am not your mother anymore. You stopped being my child long ago.”
 

“What are you even saying?”
 

“I am saying you are no daughter of mine. Don’t call me again, it’s pointless.”
Mama yawned so wide Emily heard her jaw creak.
 

“Please, you can’t mean that. You’re the only person I have left.”
 

“You have no one.”
Mama threw down the phone and the deadened tone met her ear.
 

She removed the cell from her cheek and wiped the tears from it. The living room was a blur of booze and anguish, and Emily didn’t have a soul to turn to. It was a no contact order and that meant she couldn’t get near the house or the kids without facing the full force of the law.
 

There was no one who loved her and no one who believed she deserved love. That look, Chase’s look of caring and need sprang into her mind’s eye again, and she was overwhelmed by the sheer need to see him, to feel him again.
 

In anyway, she didn’t care how.
 

She just needed his presence.
 

Emily left the wine and the paper on the table and ran out the door.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Emily banged on number 16 with a closed fist. There wasn’t time for being polite anymore. She wanted to see him one last time.

Things were hopeless. Hell, she wasn’t even sure she’d have Joseph’s help anymore. What if it’d been a grand ploy to get into her pants and he’d realized she didn’t want it, so he’d left it? Not all men could be bad, that’d been her experience thus far.
 

Nothing came for free.
 

There wasn’t an answer or movement on the other side of the door.
 

She checked her watch. It was 2 AM in the morning and she was drunk as hell.
 

Who cared?
 

Emily wanted answers. Truth or something like that. Why look at her as if he wanted her, but reject her so completely. She was scorched to the core.
 

She slammed her fist into the door again.
 

“What the fuck? Who is that?”
Chase’s voice travelled through to her ears and he stomach jumped around. No trampoline this time, spinning gymnasts instead.
 

Happy anxiety day everybody!

“Who’s there?”
He demanded, the lock scraping back.
 

“Me. It’s me. The murderer, the loser, the woman you hate.”
She couldn’t keep bitterness from it.
 

He stormed out into the hall, disallowing her entrance to his inner sanctum.
 

“Inner sanctum, inner sanctum,”
she said it twice in rapid succession. “That’s a funny phrase isn’t it?”
 

“What are you doing here?”
He folded those uber-muscled arms and stared her down.
 

“I should think that,”
she said, taking a small silver flask out of her tote and waving it around, “was obvious.”
 

She screwed the silver cap off, slid it aside and tossed back the good stuff. She’d bought it off a street peddler earlier in the day, while wandering the streets and hovering between coming to Chase’s apartment and running home with her tail between her legs.
 

“What?!”
Chase jawline hardened, his displeasure was plain, but she didn’t care. She’d put up with so much shit. She’d wanted him for too long and she’d bloody well get her answers. Get them!
 

“I am here because I want the truth,”
she slurred it.
 

“You are here because you don’t care about anyone other than yourself. You have no respect for my personal space. God damn, it’s two in the morning. I have work in the morning.”
 

Emily nodded. “Oh right, yeah, with your big ol’
buddy, Bri-Bri.”
She shot off two imaginary guns in the air and flipped off the ceiling. It seemed a smart move to her, but Chase stared as if she’d lost her mind.
 

“I get it, you’re drunk,”
he said, softly, but that jaw hadn’t changed one bit. “But you are not permitted to be near me anymore. I made that clear, Emily.”
 

“Not permitted,”
she said it and made inverted commas with her fingers. “That’s a harsh thing isn’t it? Not permitted. Why don’t you listen to me?”
 

Chase glanced from side-to-side and frowned. “How did you get in here, anyway?”
 

“My buddy, Si!”
She waved at the elevator which was totally empty. Where had the attendant disappeared to?
 

“That’s enough. Leave now. I want nothing to do with you.”
 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I fucking know already. But what the hell, I’d say you owe me sam domn, I mean some damn answers, awww right?”
 

This was possible the best idea she’d had. Confronting him like this, he’d have no choice but to talk to her. No Janet, no Bri-Bri. Nothin’.
 

“I owe you nothing. It’s time to leave.”
He pointed but she slapped his hand down and rolled her eyes.

“I love you, but you can’t say you love me back. Because of what happened with your parents. I get that. But how long will it last?”
 

“Forever. I will never trust you again.”
He placed his massive fists on his hips, but there was that look in his eyes again. That need.
 

“You haven’t forgotten our connection. I can tell. You aint forgotten and you aint ever gonna.”
Did that make sense? Yeah, it’d made sense. “My point, Chase, is that you can deny this as much as you want, but one day it will come back around. Meant to be.”
 

“Enough. Get out of my building before I have you removed.”
That jaw tightened even more. Maybe it was time to go home. There was a Grey’s Papaya somewhere around in the neighborhood.
 

“All right, all right. I’m leaving. Where’s Janet by the way?”
Emily peered into the apartment. The nosy bitch would’ve come out if she’d heard it was Emily at the door.
 

“That is none of your goddamn business. Let me make it clear one last time. Delete my number, don’t come here again, and don’t contact me again. It is over. I want nothing to do with you.”
 

Emily nodded again. She hadn’t had real hope for this shit to work out, but it’d been worth a shot. A drunken shot. Woop, woop. “Fine. But I hope you know I’m sorry. For everything.”
 

“Leave.”
 

“I’m leaving.”
But she lingered a moment longer to give him a honey-sweet smile. “Nice jammies by the way,”
she said and flicked the lapel of his striped blue PJs with a giggle.
 

His lip twitched in what might have been a smile or a snarl of fury, but Emily traipsed off down that carpeted –
pretentious rich people loved carpets –
hallway and to the elevator. She turned and pressed the button herself, and Chase was still there, watching from just outside his apartment.
 

He didn’t wave and neither did she. The steel doors slid shut, severing the ties between them. The wine –
and the vodka in her flask –
had dulled the pain, but it would come back accompanied by a massive headache in the morning, without a doubt.
 

Chase Newman wasn’t her man and he wouldn’t be again. That much was clear.
 

She’d never truly deserved that connection. It was too special and fragile.
 

Now, where was that Grey’s Papaya?

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

There was a jackhammer between Emily’s eyes, right there in the center of her forehead.

She opened them, met with a ray of sunlight, and scrunched them up again with a groan.

What had she drank last night? She turned over on her side and dragged the blankets over her head. Nausea tagged along for the ride.

She reached over to the bedside table and snatched up her watch. She had the day off from work thankfully, not that she’d be in a state to walk, much less dance.
 

It was 10 AM, but she was still exhausted.
 

Memories from the night before drifted up into her consciousness and she snatched at them relentlessly. What was that? Chase?
 

Oh please, God, no. Had she gone through with it?
 

She scratched her head, but it made the jackhammer worse.
 

Emily stumbled out of bed and traipsed across the wooden floorboards and into her kitchen. She ignored the restraining order on the coffee table, but there was a note on the fridge in the worst handwriting she’d ever seen.
 

Chase is done with you. Go party!
 

It was from drunk Emily. Sober Emily was not amused.
 

“Fuck,”
she swore and spat into the sink. It took a lot to get an ex-stripper drunk, but cheap vodka did the trick. She poured herself a glass of water, popped too aspirins and drank it down in one go.

So Chase was gone. He’d told her to delete his number as far as she could recall. It probably wasn’t the first time, but he’d been serious. She’d pushed it too far, wanted him too much.
 

It was over.
 

The phone rang on the kitchen counter and the jackhammer went wild.
 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,”
she grunted at it, then snatched it up.
 

“Lo?”
She managed.
 

“Is this Mrs. Ross?”
 

“No,”
she retorted, “it’s Miss McDonald. Who’s this?”
 

“Miss McDonald, we’re calling about your mother.”
 

“What now? Pork chops again?”
She laughed at herself in spite of the pain, but stopped. This made no sense. Her mother had disowned her the last time they’d spoken.
 

“Ma’am, I’m calling to inform you that your mother passed away last night at around 2 in the morning. I’m sorry.”
 

“I –
I. Thank you.”
She hung up and dropped to her knees on the kitchen tiles, holding her cell to her chest like a baby. Mama was gone.
 

She’d never gotten a chance to prove herself, to make her mother see the truth or love her like a daughter. Slivers of Emily’s heart broke off inside, one for Mama, one for Chase. She was held together by string, a puppet and she’d never be in control.
 

There was no one to call.

For the first time, she was truly alone.
 

She picked up her cell and typed a message.
 

Mother dead. Please come.