After her husband dies in a car accident, Emma Haines-Gaunt is encouraged by her mother and sister to attend a therapy group for widows. Though reluctant to even give it a try, Emma finds herself in a church basement listening to heartbreaking stori...
"Hanging on a tight rope, swinging ten stories high. Doing my best to not look down. Feeling like a ghost in the middle of a crowded room. I'm alone, a stranger in my own town.
Oh, who will be the one to save me? Fix me up. Help me come around. I'm falling now.
Don't let me go."
Song: Don't Let Me Go - The Summer Set
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"Emmy. Hi," Harry breathed.
Emma was frozen, completely statuesque. Her eyes stared into his as he stared back, but she couldn't move, she couldn't speak.
"Your jacket. You forgot it," he said, holding the peacoat out to her. His voice was much, much deeper than she remembered. And she could barely contain the way it affected her.
"Are you okay?" Harry asked as his brow furrowed.
"Uh... um. Thanks," she said, grabbing the jacket from him, only breaking her eyes away from his to replace it on her body. As she did, Harry pulled out a cigarette and lit it.
"Terrible habit," she found herself speaking before thinking. Harry scoffed with a slight laugh.
"Well, there are worse things," he said, looking out across the street as he puffed on the cigarette.
"I'm sorry. I-I... sometimes I don't have a filter," she said, trying to make up for her snap judgement.
"I remember," he said with a nod, before taking another drag.
His words cut through her, slicing away at her, making her feel like she couldn't breathe. 'I remember'. A part of her thought she was dreaming. Another part of her imagined the man standing in front of her wasn't the same boy she grew up with, the boy she loved. But his words made everything feel so real again, so present, so conscious. He remembered.
Emma caught it when he looked over at her out of the corner of his eye, because she was doing the same. She quickly looked away, feeling like an adolescent with the way she was averting her entire self away from him.
"I never thought I'd see you again, Emmy," he breathed through the night air, cutting through some of the tension.
"I never thought I'd be back," she admitted quietly. He nodded, drawing in a ragged breath.
"Why are you back?" He asked a moment later.
There was a hesitation in his question and Emma knew he already knew the answer to it. He was in a therapy group for widows. What more was there to say?
"I-I..." She stammered.
"It's okay. I... it was rhetorical. Should have stayed in my head," he said, brushing it off as he threw down his cigarette at his feet and stomped it out. Emma didn't speak.
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