But she isn’t here. Not really. She’s trapped somewhere dark and terrifying, and no matter what I do or how much I try, I’m not enough to pull her out.
Tears sting my eyes as I rock her, whispering anything I can think of to soothe her. “It’s okay, it’s over. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Her sobs are silent but no less heartbreaking, her chest heaving against mine as she buries her face in my neck. I hold her tighter, my arms aching with the effort of trying to shield her from something I can’t fight.
The good news—if I want to count the wins—is that she recovers quicker than usual. I also want to blame the second nightmare on her being woken by the police, and not because she’s getting worse.
By the time she falls into another fitful sleep, my body feels like it’s been wrung out and hung to dry. I stare up at the ceiling, my mind racing.
I don’t have a choice. Giving up isn’t in my nature, but I don’t know how to do this. The nights are getting harder, and each night of screams and day of silence erodes hope that she will get better. The specialists say she needs time, but how much time? How long before she starts to heal, or before I break under the weight of trying to hold her together?
My throat tightens as I press a kiss to her hair.I can’t fall apart.Not now. Not ever. Sage needs me. If I don’t have the answers, I’ll keep trying new things until we find them.
But as the first rays of sunlight creep through the curtains, all I feel is fear. Fear that I’m not enough. Fear that I’ll never be enough—not for Sage, and not for a man like Dylan.
One date. I’ll enjoy the hell out of our date tonight, and then I’ll release him to all the sexy influencers who are lining up to be photographed on his arm and warmed in his bed.
One date. Because I need it just as much as I deserve it.
Chapter 15
What I Need
Emma
Game day rehearsal, and I’m a barely functioning shell of a human.
Sage sat through therapy using emoji balls to communicate with Dr. Adams while I waited in the waiting room, second-guessing my life decisions since returning to Australia.
Unsurprisingly, Sage didn’t want to come to the game and watch me work, so I left her at home pretending to dohomework. I choose to believe online gaming is better for her than being alone inside her head and not communicating with anyone.
Sweat pours down my face as I struggle to keep up with the routine. My limbs feel like lead, and my timing is off, and don’t even ask me why I’ve forgotten the recent changes. I feel the invisible stabs in my back from other cheerleaders who aren’t looking for excuses. They don’t want to help thenew girl, the girl who’s still trying to prove she belongs, the girl who’s barely holding it together.
When the routine ends and coach callstime, I collapse against the training room wall, grateful for the break but wishing I could collapse for real. The exhaustion is sinking deep into my bones. I’ve had no sleep, and my emotional reserves are negative one thousand.
“You okay, Emma?” Skye’s voice cuts through my fog, but I’m too tired to smile, too tired to even fake it for the only person who seems to give a damn.
“Yeah, fine,” I say, forcing the words out. “Just a little tired.” There’s no way I can explain how I could sleep for a week, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
I grab my water bottle, taking a long drink, but my throat feels dry, and my eyes are heavy. I know I’m not at my best, but I can’t afford to fail.
“The girls are worried about you,” Skye says gently. “Is there anything we can do? I mean, it’s not like you to mess up a routine.”
“What do they say,” I fake it until I can make it, “Bad dress rehearsal, excellent performance.”
“As long as you don’t break a leg.”
“If I do, I’ll learn how to dance on one,” I joke back, and we head along the corridor toward our changing room.
“Hey, Skye, Emma,” Dylan’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“Oh.” Skye is the first to react. “Dylan!” She gives me a side glance before facing him. “Thanks for the lovely note. Glad that we got a new sponsor out of the charity event. And thanks for giving Em and me the credit with the bosses.”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t have done it without the two of you.” Dylan looks between us, and eventually, Skye takes the hint and leaves, mouthing “talk later”. Sure … not.
“You shouldn’t come looking for me here,” I say, arms crossed over my chest and keeping my armpits clenched together. I look worse than I smell, but don’t have the emotional energy to be embarrassed. “What if …”
“Thanks again for introducing me to those tech guys,” Dylan says in a raised voice before nodding to three cheerleaders who get a fresh bounce in their step as they walk past us. “Looking good, ladies.”
