The Carrero Effect Trilogy

Chapter 14

I'm home," I call out into the apartment, dropping my keys on the hall table. Soft jazz music is coming from Sarah's room, the distinct smell of Marcus's aftershave in the living room, and a half-empty bottle of wine and two glasses on the table. I sigh, bristling inside, and ponder staying at Jake's apartment for the night as he offered. I should have stayed over instead of taking the extra car journey home; we'd be watching a movie by now.

There's no response from the closed bedroom, so I assume they don't want to be disturbed. I don't attempt to call out again. I go to my room and dump my luggage by the bed, glad to be home, yet at the same time, the familiar pang of missing Jake is already washing over me.

We have worked together so much over the last few months, glued side by side, that being apart feels abnormal. Even though we occasionally spend weekends apart, the recent non-stop chaos of trips and workdays flowing into each other has meant a few weeks of rarely being separated. I guess that's why I feel it more now than ever. I open my suitcase, discard some dirty laundry into the hamper, plug my technology into the chargers on my desk, and change into nightwear.

My cell vibrates across my desk, and I glimpse the notification with Jake's name lighting the screen. I pick it up with a smile that lifts my mood and warm at the familiar notification.

"Jake Carrero has sent you an iTunes gift."

I swipe to open the screen and the email without hesitation, beaming stupidly.

"When You're Gone" by Bryan Adams.

The grin spreads across my face widely, and I shake my head. I know the song well and laugh at his cuteness. I guess he's feeling the same like his right hand has been removed. I laugh at the pun as I scroll iTunes looking for an appropriate title while listening to the song he's sent me. So very Jake with his love of crooning rock stars. Despite the love lyrics, most of the music mirrors how I feel, so I gift him a song back.

"Are You Missing Me?" by Jim & Jesse McReynolds

I have never heard it before, but the title makes me giggle. I laugh at its cheesy country-ness, knowing he will be amused by it. I put my cell down and go back to unpacking my bags slowly, again interrupted by the vibration of my phone and another iTunes gift.

"Always" by Bon Jovi.

I can't help the wave of warmth followed by the pang of sadness that overcomes me. The memory of what that kiss could have ruined shakes me inside and turns my blood cold. I really do miss him, despite only leaving him less than an hour ago; he has a way of getting into my head and under my skin. I wouldn't know how to carry on if he ever decided we were no longer to work together.

My cell vibrates again, and my mother's number appears on the screen, instinct causing me to ruffle my brow. I take a deep, steadying breath, letting out a sigh. I hesitate but answer despite my reservations and that ingrained guilty conscience she has burdened me with. I don't have time for her guilt trips tonight; I'm tired and fed up, and all she ever does is make me feel bad for never coming home.

"Hello, Mother," I push out flatly.

"Emma, hi," a strange, young girl's voice answers, making me frown in confusion, surprised by the voice. "Is that Emma?" she asks with uncertainty.

"Speaking," I reply tightly, unsure who she is or why she's using my mother's cell to call me. She sounds incredibly young, early teens young, which arouses suspicion.

"Emma, hi, my name's Sophie. Your mom's been helping me out." She sounds scared, her voice wavering as trepidation moves up my spine. My sixth sense tingles that something is wrong.

"Mmm-hmm," I snap, aggravation building up deep inside me, I can sense her apprehension, and it's raising mine. I can feel the emotion in her voice and that she sounds scared.

"Your mom's in the hospital. You need to come home to Chicago. Someone really hurt her." She all but bursts into tears.

***

Twenty minutes after I finally hung up with Sophie, I'm sitting on my bed staring at the cell, numb and raw simultaneously. My head is reeling. Somehow my body and mind are detached.

Someone has beaten my mother to within an inch of her life and left her for dead in her apartment, my old home.

Again!

Sophie found her, a young teen from the homeless shelter that Mom had taken under her wing and let stay with her. The poor thing had been the one to find her and get her help, just like I had so many years ago. She never changes.

I get up and walk to Sarah's room, desperate to share my internal agony and find some calm in the chaos, but I discover it's empty. They're not even home, just the radio playing on low, and I snap it off in irritation. I sigh and walk back to my room with spreading pain, my brain running through a memory of my mother this way once before, and I choke it back down. I refuse to feel it.

When is she going to stop doing this crap to me? Is it not enough to go through all of this once? No. She has to repeatedly go back to the same kind of abusive relationships, like a moth to a goddamn flame.

My whole life, her choice of men, has been just one long bad memory of violence and abuse. She has a type, and she attracts them repeatedly. She never stood up to them and never stopped what they did. She chose her men over me so many times, letting them in, letting them hurt us both. And never once did she put my needs first, nor even her own needs.

And here she is doing it all over again.

She is caring for a fourteen-year-old girl and has just subjected her to the same traumatic sight I saw at ten years of age, a sight which led to my being in a children's home for almost a year. Child Protective Services invaded our life, taking me from an abusive environment and sending me to one that, in my eyes, was far worse, a children's home, only to return me when she promised that her life was different. That particular lover was long gone, but we both knew a new one was around the corner any day. I learned to lie after that to help cover up who she was. That year in the home taught me that there are far worse people in the world than my mother regarding parenting.

I stare at my suitcase and can't stop the crushing weight from consuming me.

I'll have to go back there. After being away for almost six years, I'll have to go home to Chicago.

I want to cry, lay down, open my mind, and let it pour away. I'm desolate and scared. An internal agony threatens to consume me, vibrating inside my stomach. I never thought I would be in this place ever again. I'm afraid, and fear is not something I ever wanted back in my head.

I pick up my cell and call Jake's number. It's an impulse, something I do without a thought. He always knows how to make me smile and make me feel better. Just his voice on the other end will make me calmer. I need to tell him I'll be gone for a few days. Maybe he'll let me use the jet instead of a commercial airline to save me the misery of facing people on this two-hour flight. I need to speak to him so badly I can almost taste it.

"Hey," he answers after only two rings. He sounds cheerful, tugging my heart into chaos even more as I picture his smiling face and beautiful, clear, emerald eyes.

"Jake, I need to go home. Back to Chicago." My voice is shell-shocked and small. I can't pretend right now; I'm too raw to try. I try to control the waiver, but I fail, unable to contain my heartbreak at the sound of his deep comforting tone.

"Emma? What's wrong, carina? Are you crying?" His soft, soothing voice causes a solitary tear to slide from my eye, and I wipe it away, defenseless, with him in my ear.

Maybe I shouldn't have called him. He sounds surprised to hear me tearful.

"No," I lie. "My mom is in the hospital … an accident." I can't tell him that she's let another abusive man nearly destroy her life and has left her half-dead; I can't open that can of worms and confessions.

"Shit! Do you want me to come with you? I'll call the airfield and get the jet ready." He's concerned, my sweet Jake. I want to run into his arms and let him hug me as he did in the hotel the morning we fought. What wouldn't I give to have him here right now?

"No, I have to do this alone." I want him to come with me so badly, but knowing what he would see, the questions he would ask are unbearable. I don't want him to see that part of my past. Ever!

"If you're sure, dolcezza? I'll call the airfield, and Jefferson will pick you up to take you to the airport. Just pack, okay?" He's reserved about it and doesn't push.

"Thank you." I know I sound strange, even to myself. I wonder how I sound to him. I hope it's more in control than I feel, but I don't want him to hang up and leave me with myself.

"You know, I'll come if you want me to?" His husky statement makes me even more emotional and vulnerable, hitting my chest like a thud.

"I know. I just can't, Jake. There are things …" I stop myself. I was about to say too much about things he should never know about from my past life. He would never see me the same way again.

"One day, Emma, you'll want to tell me. I'll be here when you do." He sighs with heaviness, and I'm scared he'll go. I can't let him go just yet; my hands have started trembling, and the tears build up in my throat, choking me with the ache.

"Jake?" I panic, not sure how else to stop him from going.

"What, Bambina?" His voice is breathy, and he's gentle with me. It's too much, and the rip tearing across my chest intensifies, a slight sharp pain slicing through. I can't hold it in, and I break down completely, unable to hide my sobs down the line.

"That's it, Emma! I'm coming over right now," he states firmly with no hint of backing down in that commanding tone.

I can't respond. All I can do is try and refuse through tears, but only hysteria comes out.

I hate that she's brought me back to this place, broken down the walls, and broken me open to the world, to Jake. All it took was the repeat of a buried memory.

He says something else I don't hear over my tears, and the line goes dead. I can't even argue anymore. I curl up on the bed and cry my heart out in despair. Once again, broken. I don't have the strength to deal with this; it's all too much, falling apart after years of holding it all in, and I'm so tired tonight.

I don't know how long I lay on the bed, blubbering into my pillow, but I finally calm and realize I should call him back to stop him from coming over, but I'm too late; I jump at the knock on the door, and my heart lurches. I want him to leave, never to see me like this, but at the same time, I need to see him.

I rush to the door and yank it open without hesitation, all self-composure replaced with only the need to have him with me. I'm faced with the only person in the world I want to see right now. He says nothing, stands there as my strong haven, then steps in and wraps his arms around me tightly in the doorway. I fall to pieces with a tidal wave of pent-up tears breaking free, and I don't hold back. He holds me, patiently waiting, staying silent, just being my rock, holding me up, arms cradling me, fingers in my hair, keeping me steady.

Finally, he guides me inside, pulls me to the sofa, and sits me down, his face close and arms enveloped around me. A million thoughts run through my head, swirling crazily. I cling to him as though my life depends on it and let all the tears and heartbreak out with fresh vigor.

Emma, who doesn't cry … forgotten. Emma, who never lets anyone see her vulnerable,… vacant. Strong Emma … dissipated.

"Jefferson is downstairs," he croons. "The jet will be ready by the time we get there." He lifts my chin to his face and wipes away some wetness with his thumb. He knows I don't want to talk, so he's just being here. I want to tell him he can't come, but I don't have the strength.

I allow him to pull me to my feet and toward my bedroom. He leaves me at my door, pulls my empty suitcase from the floor where I left it, hauls open my closet, and starts throwing in random clothes haphazardly. This makes me laugh through my tears, breaking the pain. Jake looks hopeless as a domestic, and I gently shake my head, pushing him aside.

"If you want me dressed in sweatpants and blouses for the next few days, then you're going about it the right way," I sniff through a runny nose and hazy vision and start pulling out the clothes and packing my things properly, getting items out I'll actually need. He moves back and stands watching me, looming close by, hovering as though I may keel over at any moment. The focus brings my emotions into check and soothes me fully. Tasks always do that.

"Might be a sexy fresh look for you, Ems. You're cute enough to pull it off." He smiles at me, and I sigh, pulling myself back together and drying my face on my sleeve. He hands me the gadgets from my desk, and I put them in the base of the suitcase, gently wrapping them in the protective sleeves I leave there. My mind is blocking thoughts about my mother lying in a hospital bed now; I don't even want to process this anymore.

"I can't let you come, Jake; I don't want you to see her like she is." I glance at him nervously, stomach-churning.

"Why, Emma? You haven't told me what happened." He moves behind me, taking a strand of my loose hair and tucking it behind my ear, a standard Jake gesture that serves to make me feel entirely calm. Safe. His presence and touch are like a balm.

"I don't want you to know; it's too … there are things about my life before here that should stay in the past." I glance back at him pleadingly, seeing his frown soften into a gentle smile as he hides his disappointment well.

"Okay, Emma. I promised I wouldn't push." He inhales heavily, defeated in a way. "But you better call me every night and keep me updated. If you need me, I'll be there in a heartbeat. I can't leave my number one girl coping alone when upset." He gently brushes another strand of my hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering softly over my cheekbone. His green eyes locked on mine steadily. "Promise me?"

"I promise," I nod, basking in the caress, then turning away to continue packing. Poor Jefferson has been sitting down in the car for long enough already, and I have a two-hour flight to take. After that, I must face a sight I know will be unbearable in many ways.

When I'm done packing, I go into Sarah's room to leave her a note. I don't want to call her and say the actual words in front of Jake. Her bed is a riot of covers and clothes, and I can only guess they've gone for a night out on the town, not that it bothers me. We lead separate lives nowadays.

I leave the note on her mirror and close the door as I exit. In a way, I'm glad she's not here, so I do not have to explain with Jake so close by what's happened to my mother for the second time in my life. Not having to deal with that knowing look on her face, thinking precisely as I do.

Will she ever change?

Jake accompanies me to the airfield and deposits me on the plane personally. Hugging me goodbye, he makes me promise that I'll call when I land in Chicago and every night that I'm gone. I am torn between leaving him and not wanting him to see who I used to be. I need him far from that part of me right now, but I am distraught to walk away from him.

Reluctantly I let him go, and I'm flanked by the onboard attendant taking my coat and Jefferson depositing my suitcase on the plane himself. Jake waves from the tarmac, and I head to my seat, shutting out every thought and emotion, holding myself in to focus on the long flight ahead and all I'm about to encounter.