I closed Emma's bedroom door behind me and leaned against it for a moment, letting the emotions wash over me. The emotional torrent hit immediately - raw, desperate fear wrapped around abandonment issues so deep they made my chest ache like a fist squeezing tight.
Emma slept curled up on her bed, arms wrapped around her knees, trying to look tough but mostly just looking like a scared kid. Which, fuck, she was. Eighteen years old and dealing with trauma that would break most adults.
I could feel everything she couldn't say out loud. The terror that leaving meant I didn't care anymore coiled in her gut, cold and heavy. The bone-deep fear that without me in the house, she'd be vulnerable again settled like ice in her veins. The shame that she needed me this much, that she couldn't just be normal and independent like other girls her age was a bitter taste on her tongue.
