Stolen Course (Wrecked and Ruined #2)

She’s not right, but she definitely isn’t wrong.

“Emma, the past is safe. It already destroyed me once. It can’t hurt me anymore. Unlike you, who has the ability tear me to shreds over and over again. I go numb when I sit at her grave. The feeling I so tried to avoid all those years is the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

“Right,” she whispers, and I know that wasn’t the answer she wanted to hear, but it’s the only explanation I have.

When I first started going there, I told myself that it was nothing unusual. I was just visiting Manda. However, as the days passed and I spent more and more time sitting on the ground blankly staring at her name, it began to shut me down. And God, that was a welcome change from the emotional upheaval I have been in recently.

“I think I’m going to head to bed. I’ll clean up the kitchen in the morning.” She moves to slide back off her flip-flops and crawls into her—our—bed.

“Can we talk for a minute?” I ask, feeling helpless. It was only a flash of my Emmy when I walked in tonight, and then again when she hugged me, but it was amazing how such a brief touch immediately soothed me.

“You’re not the only one who needs to feel numb these days,” she says, and I can hear the tears in her voice. She turns away from me and curls into the bed.

I stand, watching her, the sound of her soft sobs floating through the room. I could just reach out to touch her, comfort her, and tell her that I love her. But I can’t, because every time I look into her eyes, my heart completely breaks. Different woman. Same scenario. I want a family and a forever with her, but once again, I’m left holding on to another woman who can’t commit.

“Please leave me alone,” she says to the wall.

Without another word, I turn and walk out of the room, very gently shutting the door with a soft click behind me. Suddenly, I realize that I don’t need to go to Manda’s grave for the pain to take over. The slight crack in Emma’s voice tonight was more than enough to hold me captive for weeks. I slide down the wall just outside her door. I drop my head to my hands and listen to her cry. The bite from the pain in my chest overwhelms me.

Yeah. This will do. This is actually fifty times more painful that visiting Manda.

Four hours later, long after Emma has fallen asleep, I get up and head to my makeshift bed on the couch, feeling more lost than ever.





I MUST have cried for hours before finally drifting off. I love him. He loves me. We are having a baby. That should be the end of the story, but life doesn’t work like that. Caleb and I have this invisible barrier between us. First, it was Sarah. Then, for a brief moment, it was Manda. But now, it’s just Caleb.

I wonder if this is how Brett felt for all those years fighting for Sarah. She was right in front of him, but he couldn’t touch her. For a moment, my imagination gets the best of me and I wonder if it weren’t for the baby if Caleb would already be gone. I miss him so damn much. If only we could get through this turmoil, I know we could be happy together. I wish I could help him leave Manda in the past and once and for all escape the ghost of their relationship that haunts him. Suddenly, Jesse’s words from weeks ago float through my mind.

“He told Sarah that, wherever ever his wife may be in the heavens, he would always love her, but he accepted that it wasn’t her anymore.”

Suddenly, a ridiculous plan to help Caleb forms. Will it work? Who the fuck knows. But I’ll try just about anything to get him back.

I throw on some clothes and rush out of my bedroom. It can’t be earlier than nine a.m., but when I run through the den, Caleb is lying on his back with one hand propped behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

“Don’t leave, okay?” I say to him while rushing to the door.

“What the hell are you doing, Emmy?” he asks, and the use of my nickname almost brings a tear to my eye.

A broad smile crosses my face, and I shake my head. “I love you. Like a lot.” I lift my fingers a good six inches apart and hold them up in his direction.

He nods, biting his lip, remembering exactly what that means. “I love you, too.” He coughs, clearing the frog of emotion from his throat.

“I’ll be right back. Promise you won’t leave.”

“I’ll always be here. Always, Emmy.”

I smile once again and head out to my car.





“WHAT ARE those?” I ask thirty minutes later when Emma comes rushing back in the door.

“Balloons,” she says matter-of-factly.

“And what exactly are they for?”

“Therapeutic healing.”

“Excuse me?” I try to figure out what the hell she’s up to.

“You’ll see. I have a few things I need to say to someone.”

“Um, okay,” I answer as she grabs the permanent marker out of the kitchen drawer and sits down on couch. She pulls one balloon from the bunch, drags it into her lap, and begins to write.