Unbroken

move… For months now, I’ve known exactly what’s waiting for me on the other side of graduation, but now?
    Now, there’s just a blank slate. And it scares the crap out of me.
    I gulp down the rest of my beer to mask my anxiety. “What about you?” I ask brightly. “You never thought about getting out of town?”
    Emerson looks out, across the ocean. He gives a slow shrug. “I never really had the choice. I mean, Brit and Ray Jay needed someone around to look out for them.”
    “But they’re grown up now,” I point out.
    He snorts. “Debatable. Brit’s still leaving shit all over my apartment. She keeps saying she’s going to move out and get a new place, but… it doesn’t happen.”
    I cringe, remembering her shocked look walking into the storage room. “And what about your mom?” I venture, awkward. “Is she…?” I trail off.
    “Sober? Clean? The fuck if I know.” Emerson’s face takes on a new harshness, and something in my heart aches with pain for him. “She shows up, every couple of years,” he adds, with a bitter twist in his voice. “Saying how sorry she is, how she wants to come back and get her act together this time.”
    “Maybe she means it this time?” I ask quietly. “Everyone deserves a second chance.”
    “Oh yeah?” Emerson’s eyes catch mine, and suddenly we’re not talking about his mom anymore. He holds my gaze, dark and intent, and I see that shadowed, haunted look flit across his face again, like the past is creeping back around us no matter how hard we try to keep it at bay.
    I swallow hard, then nod. “Sometimes people make mistakes.” I say softly, gathering all my courage. “But if they’re sorry, and they want to make things right, maybe they deserve that shot. To explain why, and make things right.”
    “You really think excuses can make a difference?” Emerson’s expression is pained, but vulnerable for a moment, and my heart leaps that there’s a crack in his hard façade.
    “Everybody has their reasons,” My heart skitters with nerves. “How do you know, if you don’t try?”
    Emerson drains his beer, then tosses the bottle aside. He opens his mouth, and for a moment our eyes meet, and something hovers in the air between us, fragments of emotion and the truth we’ve never spoken. My heart leaps.
    Then the shutters slam down in his eyes, and Emerson’s mouth twists into a pained, brooding smirk. “Some things don’t deserve to be forgiven.”
    Emerson’s body is tense now, coiled and waiting, and I feel a stab of pain and regret shoot through me. I have to dig my nails into my palms not to let out a gasp of dismay. Is that what he thinks about me—or are we talking about his mom again?
    I don’t know what to say to him, I don’t even know where to start. I need an explanation about why he broke things off four years ago, but how can I ask, when the truth might be worse than I ever imagined? Is there even anything he can say to me to make it all OK?
    I press my lips together, miserable. The silence drags on, unbearable, as the boat gently rocks on the waves. Then Emerson looks across the blanket at me. “Why did you come back?” he demands.
    “I told you.” I look down, my voice small. “Dad’s broke. He wants to sell the house.”
    “Bullshit.” Emerson curses. “You could have had someone else come, you could have left it all alone. But you came back. Why?”
    I keep my gaze fixed on the deck, the ocean, anywhere but him. “I couldn’t trust anyone else to pack it up right. All the memories...”
    “Don’t lie to me!”
    In a sudden motion, Emerson sweeps the plates and containers aside. He grabs me by both arms, pulling me towards him so that I have no choice but to look at him. To stare into that beautiful blue abyss, as dark and tormented as I’ve ever seen it.
    “Cut the bullshit, Jules.” His grip is tight on my skin, “Tell me why you came back.”
    My heart leaps into my throat. I swallow back a sob.
    He’s right. I’ve kept telling myself, and everyone else, that I had to be here. I had no choice. But the truth is, I couldn’t stay away.
    I didn’t want to.
    “Tell me, Jules.” Emerson’s voice turns pleading. His eyes are desperate, begging me for the answer I’m too afraid to admit.
    But I have to.
    “You,” I cry, my voice echoing out across the silent ocean. “It’s always been you!”
    A look of wonder flashes across Emerson’s face, and then he’s pulling me to him, capturing my mouth in