“I’ll give ya that.” I say it under my breath. She doesn’t need to know she’s right sometimes.
As I flip through the albums, I see she’s got every single release the man made, and my opinion of Green just rose even higher than before stumbling upon her den of quirky collectibles.
I pull one out and blow the dust off it. I set it onto the player and turn the old relic on.
Once I find the song I wanna hear off of B.J.’s Storm Front album, I carefully place the needle down on the shiny, black vinyl. When he starts to play the sad song I’ve always felt a morbid sort of connection to, I work my way farther into the penthouse apartment Green shared with our friendly neighborhood douche-nozzle.
At the bedroom, I see Green’s finished with what she’d come back here to do, but now she’s stuck in a memory, off in the corner of the room.
I know the feeling.
“Hey.”
This situation bothers the living hell out of me.
I’m used to the Emma Green who’s tough and ornery on the outside and always thinking of her next move on the inside. This Green is none of those things. She’s defenseless. Vulnerable.
It’s the saddest, and the most beautiful, I’ve ever seen her.
She tries to smile when she looks my way, but I can see she’s struggling with the knowledge that she’s been under the influence of a very bad, very conniving dude over the past couple years.
Guilt. It’s a fucking bitch.
“Green.”
I stride up to her and wrap my arms around her frame. Not gonna lie, I wanna protect her from the dark feelings I know are creeping up inside her. I also know she doesn’t need that protection. Not by a long shot.
She’s tough. She’ll work through this shit.
Eventually.
When she melts into my grasp, I can’t help but doubt my theory.
“This really smart woman told me something once.” I kiss the top of her head.
“Yeah?” she mumbles into my chest.
“She said, it wasn’t your fault.” I repeat the words she told me not too long ago. Green turns her head to hide some more, but I’m not letting her off that easy.
“Listen.” I pull her away from me and sit her down on the bed. “You got played. Big goddamn deal. That shit happens to everybody.”
“Not you.”
“Wanna fucking bet? I haven’t always been this smart, believe it or not.”
She laughs, kinda, but I’m not joking. Once upon a time, I believed everything my father told me about life. Then I grew the fuck up.
Her face falls again. Green glances out the window at the trees with non-existent leaves. Bare naked, just like the mood she’s in right about now.
“Being an idiot about men once might be excusable, but twice? In a row?” She shakes her head.
Remember the previous life she didn’t want to chime in about back at Target? She just confirmed my suspicions about the ex down in Florida.
I definitely want to punch something now. But I remind myself this isn’t the time or the place. Doesn’t mean I don’t plan on paying that douchebag a visit someday.
“Listen to me.” I turn her chin toward me. It’s hard to look at her like this. I want to shake her and tell her to wake the fuck up, but I rein in that instinct and try to handle this like a fucking adult for once.
“You can’t let yourself get stuck in the mud, Green. I need someone to keep me on my toes. If that’s not you, I’m pretty much screwed here.”
Her lips purse and she tries not to give in to the smile that wants to crack through her deep blue funk, but she’s failing.
“I’m pretty sure Anonymous is Connor,” she admits.
“That idiot?”
She nods solemnly.
“I don’t think so, Green.”
“Why not?”
“Because I basically asked him, and he said no.”
“He could have just been lying.”
“Why would he?” Right? He had nothing to lose at that point. The guy thought he was free and clear.
After a few seconds of mulling it over, she shrugs, unsure, but she doesn’t have the energy to debate it, I guess.
I’ll convince her later.
Her eyes tell me a story she’s not ready to say out loud yet, and all I want to fucking do is take that pain away from her. I’ll assume the whole of it, for all I care, as long as she doesn’t lose who she is in the process of dealing with Connor’s inability to treat someone like they’re human beings as opposed to possessions.
I’m not great at words or coming up with some great life lesson to learn in the midst of fucking bullshit like this.
I can be good at making Green forget about this shit. Even if it’s only for a little while.
Sixty-minute man coming up.
“Grim doesn’t look so good on you, Green.” I brush the hair out of her face and leave my hand against her cheek, as a reminder, that she’s not alone.
She takes a deep breath in and wants to know, “What does, then?” As her eyes well up, I’m angry again. She can’t possibly think that low of herself.
Can she?
I refuse to let the waterworks begin. I can’t take it that some fucking asshole is to blame for them.