BROKEN VOWS (Broken Redemption Book 1)

Chapter 12

Emilia

Pulling up to the house where I grew up is always bittersweet. Memories of my father and the amazing man he was still linger here. George Carmine Barrett was as radiant as a living soul could be. Everywhere he went, he brightened up the world around him. Every moment spent with him was like experiencing life in high definition. He was so full of color that his personality came through, even in the way he painted the walls of this old house. Every room had its color, each named by its hue rather than its function. Raised by the luminous man that was my father, and surrounded by all that splendor, the world that I knew was a beautiful place.

That all changed after my 16th birthday. It started with the sudden death of Lucas's parents, and things got progressively worse when Lucas disappeared. Not long after, the tragic news of my dad's terminal diagnosis confirmed my life would never be the same. Stage IV pancreatic cancer was a death sentence. Six months is what the doctors gave him when it was first discovered. That was two months before Lucas's parents died and he went missing.

Knowing the toll that much loss would have on Jen and me, Daddy fought like hell to stay around for as long as he could. He battled bravely through the hopelessness of terminal illness, so he could put some distance between the tragedies for us. His last ten months on this earth were used to prepare Jen and me for life without him. He lived double the time the doctors predicted, because of how resistant he was to giving up the fight before we were ready.

In short, when Lucas left, my beautiful world stopped spinning. But Daddy's death, that was when that beautiful, amazing, colorful world I'd grown to count on, officially faded to gray.

As for Mom, she was always distant when it came to me, and that distance increased tenfold after my father's passing. For the first few months, Jen and I barely saw her. Most of the conversations between us happened over text messages or voicemails.

About six months after Daddy died, we came home from school to find Harold sitting in our living room. That was the night Mom told us that Harold was moving in and that they planned to get married the following summer. It felt like the ultimate betrayal, both to the memory of my father and to me. I was still deep in the throes of grief, and my mother's indifference was devastating.

"Okay girls, you can unbuckle yourselves. I'll be right there to let you out."

Stepping out of my car, I look around the driveway to get a sense of who's arrived, but it's the black Chevy SUV parked at the curb that captures my attention. Memories of sitting in that car next to him six days ago come flooding back. Remembering the easy way he reached for my hand when we first got in, to the goosebumps that raced over my skin at the feel of his touch.

I'd be lying to myself if I didn't acknowledge that the connection we once shared is still there, alive and beating. Pulsating with longing to reclaim everything that was lost, everything that was unfairly stolen from us. Nothing could have prepared me for how it would feel to see him again. To finally hold him in my arms. To breathe him in and soak in the warmth of his presence.

It was incredibly intense, and there were moments when it felt like I was hanging precariously over a ledge of impending betrayal. And while nothing technically happened between us, I can't help but wonder how far I would have let things go if Lucas was a different type of man.

I'm ashamed to admit that within minutes of getting into his car, I gave in to the feelings he invokes in me. Tired of the constant strain that is the situation with Creed, I opted to pretend that part of my life didn't exist. Not my girls per se, but the vows I made. The rings on my finger. The unsigned divorce papers at the bottom of that drawer, and most important of all, the fact my husband left me and then disappeared.