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The sisters stare at each other for a long time. Then the first tear falls. Not from my woman’s eyes, but Jennifer’s. The frail woman sobs, “I’m so sorry.”
Emery huffs, “You’re sorry?” There’s a fire in her eyes and lighting up every word she says. “I don’t need your apologizes, they mean fuck all to me. The person you should be saying sorry to is Aunt Dot. She’s been worried about you,” she tells Jen before adding on, “and with good reason it seems.”
“Don’t judge me,” Jen screeches.
I step up behind my woman and press my front to her back. I don’t wrap her up in my arms or pull her back against my body. She needs to stand on her own on this one, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have my woman’s back.
You better fucking believe I always will.
“You need help, Jen,” Emery doesn’t soften the blow of her words with a soothing tone or placating coos. “Unless you want to wind up dead. Just another statistic,” she snarls, a threat laced in her words, but not one that’s unwarranted.
“You always were so fucking perfect,” Jennifer sneers.
“Perfect,” Emery barks out with a derisive laugh. “I’m not fucking perfect, Jen. What I am is human, just like you. I have no idea why you’ve always hated me and assumed I thought so highly of myself.” When Jen opens her mouth to say something, my woman holds up her hand to tell her to shut the fuck up. “I don’t need to know because, if I’m being honest with you, I don’t care. You made your choices, and I made mine. I’m here because Aunt Dot went to the DSMC for help with finding you. Since no one knew what state we’d find you in, I insisted on coming. I’m glad you don’t look like violence threw up on you, but that doesn’t mean that seeing you as the junkie you’ve become doesn’t make me sick.”
I blink a few times, worry about my woman seeping in. This doesn’t sound like her. She’s all heart. When I examine her closely, even though she’s not looking at me, I notice the way she’s trembling and how tight her muscles are contracted to make sure it doesn’t show.
“You need help,” Emery continues to steamroll right over Jen and whatever she was even thinking about saying. “Which brings us to your choices.”
“Choices?” Jennifer eyes her sister before spitting, “I don’t have any choices.”
“Not true,” Emery states firmly. “I’m here to make sure you understand your choices.” She pauses and when Jen doesn’t interrupt again, she holds up a finger for each choice as she breaks it down for her sister. “One, you can stay here and continue to be used by whoever your pimp can sell you to for however long they’re willing to pay. I will never come to find you again and I’ll make sure Aunt Dot doesn’t as well. You should note that this option winds up, more than likely, with you dead and in a place like this I’m not sure how long it would take someone to find your body. Two, I’ll give you some cash and you can get the fuck out of town. It won’t be a hell of a lot, but it’ll be enough to get somewhere else and get started. Three, you can go to rehab, which the DSMC has been kind enough to fund. You’ll get your shit taken care of, get clean, and then we can go from there. If you want to start over somewhere then, I’ll make sure that happens. If you take this option, I won’t stand in the way of our aunt supporting you and being there for you, whether you choose to stay when you’re clean or not.”
“Damn,” one of my brothers mutters behind us, “we should have her do negotiations for us from time to time.”
Well, he’s not fucking wrong.
I watch as Jennifer weights her options. The longer she takes, her eyes darting around the room as if she’s seeing it for the first time, the more impatient Emery becomes. I know she’s coming to the end of her rope when she starts tapping her foot on the carpet that has seen better days, better decades in all likelihood.
“Choose,” Emery’s voice is like a punch to the gut in the quiet of the room, “now.”
Jennifer looks around at the faces of my brothers behind me before settling back on my woman. As they take each other in, tears start to stream down Jennifer’s cheeks. No one here will give her any sympathy; not right now.
I feel for her situation and what has happened in her past, but some of those things were of her own making. I’m doubtful that she’s ever taken responsibility for her actions.
Jen’s shoulders slump, but her voice is strong, “I’ll go to rehab.”
“Good choice,” Emery praises her slightly without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She makes a motion with her hand indicating the entire room. “Grab what you need right now. If you’re missing anything then that can be taken care of without a lot of trouble later.”
It doesn’t take long before Jen has gathered her things. As she goes to walk by my woman, who has been watching her closely the entire time, she murmurs, “I really am sorry.”
Emery doesn’t look at her as she speaks, my hand wrapping around her waist and helping to hold her up, “Don’t be sorry. Do something to change your life for the better. Do you want to show me your apology? Get your shit together and get clean. That’s all I need for you because seeing you like this would devastate Aunt Dot and she doesn’t deserve that hell.”
When Jen is gone, Emery twirls around in my arms and presses her face against my chest. “Take me away from here,” she pleads. “Make me forget.”
“Glady, Ink,” I murmur and kiss the top of her head.
I’ll make her forget and then forge new memories of her. At least, I hope I can make things right. It’s only been a matter of a few days, but I have no doubt that she would have shown up, unannounced and uninvited, more than once.
Then I throw my woman over my shoulder, stomp away. Away from this horrid motel where people come to chase their depravity. Away from the words she had to hurl at her sister in order for her to see reason. Away from the unrelenting gaze of the moon.
I make sure she doesn’t even remember where I live or her own damn name before I’m done with her. Now I’ve had her and slept next to her, which caused me to get the best sleep of my life.
Now I just need to figure out how to get her to stay right where she belongs—at my side.
CHAPTER 12
EMERY
