Chapter 263 Chapter 263

Chapter 263 Chapter 263
"I know, baby, you don't have to know," Faith said firmly. "Not right now. Right now, you just need time to process. To feel whatever, you're feeling without judging yourself for it."
"I'm so angry." The words burst out of Emma. "I'm so angry I can barely breathe. But I'm also… I'm so relieved. He's alive. He's not dead. I didn't lose him. Except I did lose him because he's been lying to me for three months, and how do I trust him again? How do I look at him without seeing… without remembering? God, I sound crazy—"
She couldn't finish. Couldn't put into words the tangle of emotions choking her.
"You take it one day at a time," Faith said. "One hour at a time if you need to. You feel what you feel. You process what happened. And you don't let anyone tell you how you should be reacting. Not Daniel, not us, not anyone. You are the one this affects the most, and we will stand by any decision you…" She gave Gray a look when he started to protest. "Any decision you make."
"I told him to leave." Emma's voice was barely a whisper. "I told him I hated him. That he was just someone who used to love me."
"Did you mean it?" Faith asked gently.
"I don't know." Emma pressed her hands to her face. "I don't know anything anymore. Three hours ago, I was at a wedding trying not to fall apart because my fiancé was dead, and had he been alive, we would have been planning our own wedding. Now he's alive, and I'm still falling apart because he let me think he was dead. I can't even tell you if I'm happy or not to have him back."
Her breath was coming too fast now. Her chest was too tight. The walls were closing in, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't— She realized she was having a panic attack. She had only started having them after Daniel's death… fake death.
"Emma." Faith's hands were on her face, forcing her to focus. "Look at me. Just me. Breathe with me. In for four, hold for four, out for four. Come on, baby. You can do this."
Emma tried. Tried to match her mother's breathing. Tried to slow down the panic spiraling through her.
In for four. Hold for four. Out for four.
Again.
And again.
Slowly, gradually, the world stopped tilting. The walls stopped closing in. Emma could breathe again, even if each breath felt like it was cutting her open.
"There you go," Faith murmured. "Good girl. Just keep breathing."
"I don't know what to do," Emma whispered after a few minutes. "Mom, I don't know what to do."
"Right now? Nothing. Right now, you're going to sit here and let us take care of you." Faith looked up at Grayson. "Can you get a blanket, something warm to wear or a wrap?"
"On it." Grayson disappeared into Emma's bedroom.
"I'll make something to eat," Honey offered. "Something light. Toast maybe."
"I'm not hungry," Emma said automatically.
"You're going to eat anyway," Faith said firmly. "Even if it's just a few bites. Your body's been through a shock. You need something in your system."
Emma wanted to argue but didn't have the energy. Just nodded and let her mother take control because she couldn't. Couldn't do anything except sit there and try to remember how to breathe.
Grayson came back with a hoodie and leggings. Daniel's hoodie. The one she'd been sleeping in since he'd deployed because it had still smelled like him. It made her feel close to him.
Emma stared at it, something breaking open in her chest all over again.
"I can get a different one," Grayson said quickly, realizing something was wrong.
"No." Emma took it, held it against her chest. "It's—it's fine."
Except it wasn't fine. Nothing was fine. Daniel was alive, and she was holding his hoodie, and three months ago, she'd been planning to get married, and now she didn't know if she even wanted to see him again.
Faith helped her change in the powder room, treating her like she was a small child or made of glass. Maybe she was. Maybe she'd shatter completely if someone pushed too hard.
When Emma came back out, Honey had made toast with honey, something sweet for the shock. Luke had a blanket, the soft throw that usually lived on the back of the chair in their bedroom. Grayson had dimmed the lights.
They were all trying so hard. Trying to help when there was nothing anyone could do to fix this.
"Eat a few bites," Faith coaxed, holding out the plate. "For me."
Emma took a piece of toast, managed two bites before her stomach rebelled. "I can't. I'm sorry, I can't—"
"That's okay. You tried." Faith set the plate aside. "What do you need, Emma? What would help right now?"
"I don't know." Emma pulled the blanket tighter around herself. "I just… I can't stop thinking about it. About him. About the fact that he's been alive this whole time and I didn't know. And he chose to put me through that. All I wanted to do was die." Emma's voice cracked. "While I was here wishing I'd died with him because I couldn't figure out how to live without him." It wasn't like her family didn't know she had hit rock bottom. They just didn't know how low she had gotten. The thing was, she wasn't a weak person, but losing Daniel had shattered her.
Faith made a sound, pained and soft. "Oh, baby."
"I didn't, obviously," Emma said quickly. "I wouldn't—but I thought about it. Those first few weeks. I thought about it a lot."
"Did you tell anyone?" Grayson's voice was soft and filled with worry. "At the time?"
"I told my therapist." Emma had started seeing someone after the second week. When getting out of bed became impossible. When existing felt like too much work. "She helped. Said it was normal to have those thoughts. That it would pass."
"Did it?" Faith asked gently.
"Mostly." Emma looked down at her hands. "I stopped wanting to die. Started just existing instead. Going through the motions. Showing up. Pretending to be okay. But I wasn't okay. I'm still not okay. And now he's back and I—I don't know how to feel. I don't know what I'm supposed to—" She knew she was going around in circles, but she was hoping it would all make sense and she would work out how to handle the nuclear bomb dropped on her.
"There's no 'supposed to,'" Faith interrupted firmly. "You feel what you feel. That's all. Whether it makes sense or not."
"I can't believe how angry I am. That's the thing that shocks me the most," Emma said. "I'm so angry at him. But I'm also… I'm so relieved he's alive. And I hate that I'm relieved because he lied to me. He let me grieve him. How do I forgive that? How do I trust him again? Because that's what this comes down to. Trust."
"I don't know," Faith said honestly. "But you don't have to figure it out tonight. Tonight, you just need to survive. Tomorrow you can start processing. Next week, maybe you can start thinking about what comes next. But tonight? Tonight, you just need to be here. With us. Safe."
Safe. The word felt foreign. Emma hadn't felt safe since the Marines had knocked on her door three months ago. Hadn't felt anything except grief and loss and the terrible aching absence of Daniel.
Except he hadn't been absent. He'd been alive somewhere. Letting her hurt while he played spy or soldier or whatever the hell he'd been doing.
"I want to hate him," Emma whispered. "It would be so much easier if I could just hate him."
"But you can't," Faith said softly. "Because you love him. And love doesn't just turn off like a tap, baby, even when we want it to."
"I wish it did." Emma pressed her face into Daniel's hoodie, breathing in the scent of him that was starting to fade. "God, I wish it did."
They sat there in silence for a long time. Emma curled up on the couch between her mother and Honey, Grayson and Luke nearby, all of them just being there making her feel better. They were not trying to fix anything because there was nothing to fix.
Around two AM, Emma finally fell asleep, exhausted and wrung out and still wearing Daniel's hoodie. Faith had finally convinced her to go to bed after shooing Grayson and Honey off home.
Faith stayed beside her all night, one hand in Emma's hair, keeping watch while her daughter slept fitfully.
Because that's what good mothers did, and Faith was a good mom. The best. She had always been a great role model for both her children; she wanted to be just like her someday. That was Emma's last thought as sleep claimed her.