“Just breathe, buttercup.”

TANK

“Have you ever done the wrong thing for the right reasons?”

She’s watching me with those big gray eyes and it feels like she can see straight through me. I’ve held it together until now but with one look, she disarms me.

“I would do anything for my mom, even make nice with my father when I know he’s up to something. But what if it’s not enough?”

My blurted words convey my deepest fear.

My anger toward my father has fueled me over the years, carried me through all the hard times, the loneliness, the worry that my mother was working so hard to take care of us. Letting go of that, even for a good cause, threatens my whole foundation.

If I don’t hate him, then who am I?

My hatred has defined me for so long that I’m lost without it. Now I’m taking his money and allowing him back into my life.

What if I’ve sold my soul to the devil and it still doesn’t save her?

“Come on. Let’s go to bed,” Emma says.

I don’t even have the heart to tease her or make a suggestive comment. Then she takes off her earrings and opens the bedside drawer to drop them in. All the color drains from her face. She stands and backs away until she hits the opposite wall. Her breathing quickens, shallow breaths that sound like gasping.

“Emma, what—”

The nightstand still hangs open and I realize why she’s panicking. Emma turns to face the wall, still taking those rapid breaths. If she keeps sucking in oxygen like that, she’ll probably pass out. I approach her slowly. My last girlfriend wasn’t fond of seeing all my hardware either but she never reacted like this.

I want to hold her but I’m not sure if she would appreciate that right now. So I just lean on the wall a few feet away.

“Take a deep breath. Slowly. In and out.”

She looks at me briefly. “I’m okay. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

“I know. Just breathe, buttercup.”

Her breath whooshes out all at once, and then she takes a deep inhale. Her eyes stay on my face. We stand like that for a few minutes, breathing quietly. When the color comes back to her face, I move away.

“I am so sorry. I’ll move it.”

I lead her to the bed and she sits, woodenly. I block her view of the nightstand with my body as I move it to the locked case in the closet. When I come out, I sit on the edge of the bed.

“Emma? When your parents were … you were there, weren’t you?”

Her fingers clench in the blanket and then her head bobs up and down.

Yes.

Emotion wells inside me. She’s here, helping me, even though violence of any kind has to be traumatizing for her. The scene she witnessed in the alley tonight suddenly takes on new meaning. She waded into that for me.

She’s dealing with things that obviously scare her, for me. 

“You don’t have to stay. I understand if you want to go home.”

Even I’m not selfish enough to make her sleep here if she’s freaked out. Nothing is going to help me at this point but I can help her. I’ll probably be up all night anyway but she needs to sleep. She deserves to feel safe enough to do that.

She turns sad eyes to me. “I’m staying, Tank. I told you I would. I’m not going to leave you.”

I’m not touching that statement so I grab a T-shirt from my dresser and hand it to her. She pulls it over her head and then pushes her jeans down. After she folds them and puts them on the end of the bed, she pats the space next to her.

“Come on. I’m tired.”

I don’t believe I’ll actually get any sleep. When my emotions run high like this, sometimes I’m up for days on end. But the sheets are crisp and cool and Emma curls up next to me, warm and soft. Her bottom is pressed up against me and I’d have to be dead not to react to that but it just feels like she’s an extension of me.

Like she’s supposed to be there.

For the first time all day, I let out a breath and relax.

Then slip quietly into dreaming.