Chapter 53 Crying For The First Time In Four Years.

Chapter 53 Crying For The First Time In Four Years.
~SCARLETT.
They never tell you what to do when the ghosts of your past come knocking, especially after you've clawed your way out of hell, piece by piece, and built something resembling peace. After you've buried the memories so deep that even your dreams forget them. After you manage to become someone new.
And just as you start breathing freely, without flinching or remembering-boom. One of the very faces you never wanted to see again finds you. And the worst part is, you have nothing to say because moving on only works if you never have to see them again. That's the whole damn point.
But now here she is.
I stared at her wide eyes, those stupid glasses, her face exactly the same as it was the last time I saw her. She hadn't aged a second. How was that even fair? You help destroy someone's life, and you still get to look innocent?
Meanwhile, I'd lived through a year on the streets: stealing food, sleeping in alleys, fighting off creeps. And now she just waltzes back into my life like we're at a goddamn high school reunion?
I snarled in a sharp and venomous voice. "Tell me one good reason I shouldn't tase your ass right now and leave you here for someone to find your paralyzed body."
Her eyes flickered with panic, but she held her ground. "Wait, wait, please, Scarlett! I'm sorry about what happened at the resort. I didn't come here to hurt you. I'm only here to make things right."
I scoffed, loud and harsh.
"Make things right?" I shoved her shoulder. "You and Liam destroyed my life and my trust, and now you're acting like some kind of saint?"
She opened her mouth to respond, but I didn't let her.
"Hell no. How did you even find me, Emily?"
She bit her bottom lip. "I've been looking for you since you left the resort. After you left my room, I went to look for you that night at your suite, but you weren't there. I checked again a few days later, and Lily told me you'd left, no note, no message, nothing."
Good. I didn't owe any of them an explanation.
"I've been searching ever since," she continued. "Years passed. Then, one night at a local bar in Cali, I overheard these men talking about some 'famous Red' in Nevada. The way they described you. I just... I had to check."
A bitter laugh slipped past my lips. "So I am that popular now."
She nodded, desperate. "I've been coming to The Velvet Fang every night for the past month... I just didn't have the guts to approach you after everything. But tonight, I had to-"
"By stalking me like a creep in the middle of the night?" I interrupted her coldly.
She dropped her gaze, shoulders slumping. "I didn't know how else to talk to you. I don't have much time."
I held the taser there a moment longer, its hum filling the tense silence, then finally let it power down, pulled it back, and slipped it into my bag as I stepped away. Emily sagged against the wall, exhaling shakily.
I eyed her coldly. "Well, Miss Emily. I have nothing to say to you. And I sure as hell don't want to hear any more of your well-rehearsed lies."
I turned to leave, but she rushed in front of me, blocking my path. Her voice trembled with desperation as she pleaded, "Please, Scarlett. Please, you have to listen. I'll explain everything. Just give me a chance."
I froze, watching her as a thought hit me.
If she's here, does that mean he knows too?
That alone made my stomach tighten. I couldn't afford to fall apart. I had to stay ten steps ahead so I gave her a hard, measuring look and said, "Fine. Tomorrow at ten, Java Blaze Café, downtown."
"Tomorrow? Can't we just talk now?"
"You waited a whole damn month to approach me. A few more hours won't kill you. I've had a long night and I'm tired. Don't push it."
Sighing, she looked defeated, as though the weight of it all rested on her shoulders. "Okay. Tomorrow."
I didn't wait for her to say anything else. I was already walking away, my mind swirling in a dozen different directions. The last thing I needed was a reunion with my past. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew it couldn't be avoided.


Morning came fast. 
I grabbed my keys off the counter, scratched and faded, still attached to the key for my old Chevy Cavalier. The damn thing sounded like a blender with asthma, but it still ran, and that was enough.
Across the street, Mrs. Winslow, my forgetful old neighbor, was watering a plant long dead. She smiled up at me. "Morning, sweetie!"
"Morning, Mrs. Winslow," I called back with a smile, knowing she barely remembered my name most days. She treated me like a niece, and that was rare in this neighborhood.
I slid into the Cavalier, turning the key as the engine sputtered to life. Unfortunately, my thoughts were still stuck on last night. 
Emily showing up had me wondering all night if Liam knew where I was. He'd used me before to get to Jake. That was the plan. But since I ran before he could... how did it all turn out?
Or worse, was Jake still out there?
The fear of him finding me, too, twisted my stomach.
Ten minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of Java Blaze, the little café that made the best cinnamon coffee in Nevada. I sighed and killed the engine, gripping the wheel with tight fingers.
My bag sat beside me, heavy with the taser I'd tucked away and the club costume I'd brought along. I needed to stay alert. And I needed this conversation with Emily to be over as quickly as possible.
Pushing open the door, I stepped into the café and froze when I didn't see Emily. I checked my phone, it was 9:30 AM. 
Damn it, I was early. 
Moving to my usual booth, I tucked myself into the corner.
"Morning, Red. Cinnamon latte?" A familiar voice came from behind me.
Toby, the waiter who always made me smile, stood with a knowing grin.
"Make it extra strong," I said, trying to smile, though my mind was elsewhere.
He raised an eyebrow. "Rough night?"
"You have no idea."
He winked before heading off to make my coffee. I sank into the booth, tapping my nails on the table, the silence too loud for me. The longer I sat, the more I thought about Emily's lies. If Liam was coming, I needed to be ready.
A few minutes later, Toby returned with my coffee. I didn't even look up, just reached for the cup with a muttered, "Thanks."
The cup warmed my hands, but it didn't ease the tight knot in my chest as I sipped and waited. 
Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then an hour, but still no Emily. I stared at the door, my mind racing. She wasn't coming.
Slamming the rest of the coffee down in frustration, I tossed some bills onto the table. 
"Of course, she stood you up," I muttered bitterly to myself. "Why wouldn't she? People like you don't get loyalty. They get lied to. Again and again and again."
I stormed out, furious at myself more than anything. The city felt too bright, too noisy. Climbing into the car, I slammed the door and threw it into gear. 
The world around me blurred past, and I wasn't looking at anything in particular, just needing to move, until I turned a corner, not meaning to, but I did, and suddenly slammed on the brakes, my heart stopping and breath catching because there it was. 
That house.
Still the same duplex in the upscale neighborhood, brown trim, and a white mailbox, like time hadn't touched it.
Tears sprung to my eyes before I even realized they were coming. 
I hadn't cried in four years. Not when I hit rock bottom. Not when I lived in alleyways. Not even when I gave birth in the dark, on the cold, hard ground.
But now, sitting in front of that house, I couldn't hold it back.
This was where it ended. And where it began.
I wiped my eyes, trembling as I tried to get a grip. I wasn't ready for this. Then, a small face appeared in the upstairs window, and my heart slammed against my ribs as I held my breath.
The face vanished from the window, and a moment later, the front door opened to reveal a little boy, no older than three. 
Tears blurred my vision as I sat frozen in the car. He bolted out, and my heart shattered as if the universe had just shoved my past back into my face.
Stopping in front of my car, he peered up at me through the rolled-down window, and I could barely breathe.
His little face was a mirror of my late father: same jawline, same chestnut brown hair, same nose, the kind of resemblance that knocked the air from my lungs. It felt like the worst pain of my life had come rushing back, only this time, in a smaller body staring straight at me.
But his eyes, God, his eyes, they were mine. Bright green, wide and curious, catching flecks of gold in the morning light.
"My mummy says people who stare are weird," he said, arms crossed, chin lifted, full of tiny defiance. "Are you weird?"
I was dumbstruck.
"You better go. Or I'm tellin' my brudder. He's big. Real big. And he'll come beat you up."