Chapter 8 - THE COLLISION OF TWO WORLDS
The next morning,
the sun was a brilliant,
unforgiving glare on the snow-capped peaks.
Emily woke to the smell of frying bacon and the sound of a radio.
She climbed down from the loft,
feeling like a different person.
Jaxson was in the kitchen,
his back to her,
his shoulders broad and steady.
"The news found us,"
he said,
gesturing to the radio.
A local station was broadcasting a report about a missing bride.
"...Bellwood authorities are searching for Emily Harper, 26,"
"who was last seen entering a black pickup truck."
"Police are seeking information on the driver, Jaxson Thorne..."
"They're calling you a 'person of interest',"
Emily said,
leaning against the counter.
"That’s a polite way of saying 'prime suspect',"
Jaxson replied,
sliding a plate of eggs toward her.
"Ryan has already held a press conference on the church steps."
"He looked devastated."
"He said he forgive you and just wants you to come home."
Emily felt a flash of irritation.
"He 'forgives' me?"
"For what?
Choosing to breathe?"
"That’s the game,
Em,"
Jaxson said,
pouring coffee.
"He plays the victim,
and the whole town rallies around him."
Suddenly,
the sound of tires on gravel crunched outside.
Jaxson went still,
his hand hovering over his coffee mug.
He reached for a heavy wrench on the counter.
"Stay back,"
he whispered.
Emily peered through the window.
A familiar silver SUV was skidding to a halt in the driveway.
Ryan stepped out,
looking impeccable even in his grief.
Beside him was Molly Sanchez,
looking pale and terrified.
"How did they find us?"
Emily gasped.
Jaxson looked at the wedding dress still draped over the chair.
"I told you,"
"he has a long memory."
"And he probably tracked Molly’s phone after she talked to you."
Jaxson walked to the door and threw it open.
"You're on private property,
Ryan,"
he shouted.
Ryan didn't stop,
marching toward the porch with a grim determination.
"Where is she,
Jaxson?"
"Where is my wife?"
"She’s not your wife,"
Jaxson said,
stepping out to block him.
"And she never was."
Ryan stopped at the bottom of the steps,
his face twisting into a sneer.
"You always had to take what was mine,"
he spat.
"The car,
the money,
and now this."
"She chose to leave,
Ryan,"
Jaxson said,
his voice dangerously calm.
"Look at her and tell me she's yours."
Emily stepped out onto the porch then,
wearing the hoodie and the flip-flops,
her hair messy and her face bare.
Ryan stared at her,
his eyes scanning her as if she were a stranger.
"Emily,"
he said,
his voice shifting into that practiced,
warm tone.
"Sweetheart,
come down."
"He’s confused you."
"We can go back right now."
"The minister is still waiting."
Emily looked at him,
at the man who wanted to marry her because it was the safe choice.
"No,
Ryan,"
she said,
her voice carrying across the clearing.
May you like
"I’m not confused."
"I’m finally awake."
