by J. L. Perry
“There’s a great coffee shop a block away. Maybe we can grab something there and go sit in the park.”
“Sounds good.” I honestly don’t care where we go as long as we’re together.
We walk in comfortable silence as all the questions which have been weighing heavily on my mind throughout the past week swim around in my head. But, I need to get her comfortable around me before I go there. Her answers have the potential to end us, but they are things I need to know before this—whatever the hell it is—goes any further.
“How do you take your coffee?” she asks, stepping up to the counter.
“I’ll get them.”
“No, you got the donuts, the drinks are on me.”
I want to protest, but I bite my tongue. “Black, no sugar.”
She smiles. “That’s how I usually have mine but not on Sinful-Saturdays.” I’m curious to see how she drinks her coffee when she’s not watching her calorie intake. Some frou-frou shit, I’m sure. “Can I get a black coffee, no sugar, and a double pump caramel macchiato with extra whip and whole milk?”
Yep, I was right.
Five minutes later, we take a seat on the park bench under the shade of a large evergreen oak tree. Emma places the donuts between us before lifting the lid. The separation is probably a good thing. If she starts moaning like she did the first time we met, it’s going to be hard for me not to react.
“Are you going to try one?” she asks, taking one out and bringing it to her lips. I’d rather watch her eat, to be honest. “These remind me of my mom. She used to make when I was a little girl, that’s why I love them so much.”
Emma gives me a look like she’s waiting for me pick one up, so I do. “Is that where you learned to cook… from your mom?”
“No, she was killed in a car accident when I was little. Honestly, I don’t remember much about her, maybe that’s why I’m so hung-up on these donuts,” she says, releasing a small laugh.
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “It was hard on my dad. He was left to raise a young child on his own, but he did a great job. I had a good life.”
I smile as I listen to her talk, but I find myself even more curious to know why she tried to end her life now. What happened to make her think that death was the only way out? I have my theories, but I could be way off the mark. “Can I ask you a personal question?”
“How personal?”
“You know how you said you didn’t want to talk about your first sexual encounter—”
“I still don’t,” she says, cutting me off and staring off into the distance.
I don’t want to force her into talking about something she’s not comfortable with, but it’s been plaguing me ever since we spoke about it. “He didn’t force himself on you, did he?”
“No, he didn’t. I was young and naïve, and I gave myself to him willingly.”
“Then why don’t you want to talk about it?”
“Because it turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life.”
She sighs, placing her donut back in the box.
“How so?”
Dipping her head, she dusts the powdered sugar from her hands before picking at an imaginary piece of lint on her jeans. I feel bad for pressuring her, but if things between us have any chance of progressing, I need to know for certain that she’s nothing like my ex. An omission from her may even shed light on my past, giving me the answers I’ve been craving for the past six years.
As much as I deny it, I like this woman. She occupies my thoughts way more than she should, and I’m constantly thinking up elaborate plans to see her again. I killed her vibrator for Christ’s sake, and there’s a bounty on his replacement. That alone tells me I have it bad.
“We’re friends, you can talk to me about anything,” I say, prodding her to continue.
Taking in a deep breath, her eyes move back to mine. “I was a junior in high school, he was a senior. I was on the committee in charge of organizing their prom night. That’s how we met. He asked me to go to the prom with him. At first, I thought he was joking. He was the most popular guy in school and captain of the football team. He always had a bevy of women hanging off him. What would he want with a chubby farm girl?”
“I’m sure you were as beautiful back then as you are now.”
Her eyes lock with mine briefly before she continues. “Considering I came from a small town with a population of under fifteen-hundred people, I spent the majority of my school years being relatively unnoticed. I didn’t really have any friends. If my head wasn’t buried in a book, I was spending time with our animals or sitting in the driveway with my dad working on cars.” She sighs heavily. “He started pursuing me hard. I couldn’t believe it. He even let me wear his letterman jacket… I thought I was his Sandy… that he was my Danny.”
“You’re what? His who?”
“My Danny… Danny Zuko, from Grease… the movie.”
“Never watched it,” I say.
“Really? Wow. It’s one of the best movies ever made. I may need to reevaluate our friendship.”
“You won’t be unfriending me, Emma. I won’t allow it.”
She releases a small laugh before continuing, “I went from being a nobody to suddenly somewhat popular. People would acknowledge me in the halls, I was asked to eat lunch at the cool kids’ table. A few girls even invited me to hang out with them after school.”
I reach for her hand. “I’m sure you weren’t a nobody, Em.”
“I was,” she says. “I was awkward, shy, and I didn’t wear nice clothes or makeup. All the girls I’d seen him with prior, were beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.” I hate that she thinks so lowly of herself.
“You’re sweet for saying that.”
“It’s the truth.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Anyway, I eventually agreed to be his prom date. He said he wanted to travel with his friends, and that he’d meet me there. In hindsight, that should have been my first red flag, but as I said, I was young and naïve. My dad was over the moon when I told him I was going. Before being asked, I hadn’t intended to go.”
I listen intently, still unsure where her story’s going.
“We didn’t have a lot of money, but my dad arrived home a few days later and handed me a large white box. It was wrapped with a pretty pink ribbon.” Her smile grows as she speaks. “Inside was the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen. It had capped sleeves, a sweetheart neckline, and the most gorgeous applique stitched over the bodice and along the hem of the sheer, tulle skirt.”
Capped sleeves… sweetheart neckline… applique?
What in the fuck is applique?
Despite having no clue, I feel myself smiling along with her. Her dad sounds like a great man, nothing like my father.
“I found out later my father had sold his prize pig, Jessabelle, to old man Tomkins to pay for the dress. I cried when I found out what he’d done. He loved that pig. She’d won him the blue ribbon at the local fair five years running, and old man Tomkins had been trying to get his hands on Jessabelle for years.” My grip tightens on her hand. “Prom night rolled around. I’d been bursting all day to get ready. Mrs. Sinclair, from across the street, came over and set my hair in loose curls, pinning a few on top of my head and applied a dusting of makeup on my face. It was the first time I’d ever worn it. I felt like a princess, maybe even a little beautiful. I couldn’t wait for my date, Kyle Sanders, to see me.”
I take a mental note of that name. I’m pretty sure I’m going to want to kill him by the time this story is over.
“My dad drove me to the prom in his old pickup. He’d even washed and polished it the day before, God love him. We have dirt roads all over town, so it was pointless, but he wanted my night to be perfect. Unfortunately, it turned out to be anything but.”
When she dips her head, I place my free hand under her chin, tilting her pretty face back to mine. The sadness I see swimming in her e
yes tugs at my heart. Yep, Kyle Sanders is one dead motherfucker. I’m adding him to my hit list right beside Elijah.
My fingers graze the side of Emma’s face before I tuck her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry it wasn’t everything you’d dreamed it would be, sweet-thing.”
“Thank you,” she says, squeezing my hand.
She takes a sip of her coffee, and I give her a few moments to compose herself.
“I hate this guy already, and I’m sure we’re not even at the bad part yet.”
“We’re not,” she says. “But I try not to hate people. I don’t want to carry that around inside me. I have secretly wished his dick would fall off, though.”
“Ouch.” I laugh, covering my manhood at the same time. “Remind me never to hurt you.”
“Please don’t.” Her words sound like a plea, and I find myself hoping I never do.
I lift our conjoined hands toward my face, placing a kiss on her knuckles. I have an overwhelming compulsion to protect her from all the bad in this world.
“I remember jumping out of the truck when we arrived. I couldn’t wait to get inside and see Kyle’s reaction when he saw me in my pretty pink dress. My dad is the sweetest,” she says as the smile returns to her face. “He was so sure there’d be a corsage waiting for me when I got inside. He’d bought a single pink rose boutonniere for me to give to him.”
“Did Kyle have a corsage waiting for you?”
“No.”
Fucker.
“All the other girls were wearing one. That was my second red flag. He didn’t even pin on the rose I gave him. He shoved it in his trouser pocket the moment I gave it to him.”
“Bastard.”
“I know, right. There was no comment on my dress. He didn’t even seem happy to see me. Looking back now, it’s clear how far my head was in the clouds. The signs where all there, but I chose to ignore them. And when he grabbed my hand and whisked me outside, I followed like an obedient puppy. We ended up at the football field behind the school. There’s no need to elaborate on what happened next.”
“You had sex with him?”
“Uh-huh. He told me he loved me and wanted me forever, and I believed him.” She lets out a sarcastic laugh. “I was so stupid. I had more sense than that. I was a straight-A student for crying out loud. Actions speak louder than words, and although he said he loved me, he certainly didn’t act like he did. I had no previous experience with men. I couldn’t even gain wisdom from my parents’ marriage because I was so young when my mother passed. I was a fool, a complete and gullible idiot.” She looks off into the distance again. “I desperately wanted him to love me, though. That’s all anyone truly wants right… is to be loved?”
Love is for fools.
When I think of all the one-night stands I’ve had over the years, my stomach churns. I hope I’ve never made anyone feel the way she did. I’ve never lied or pretended to have feelings for someone just to get in their pants.
My thumb glides over the scar on her wrist. “I’m sorry he did that to you.”
“That wasn’t even the worse part. I could’ve lived with being lied to, being used, a lesson learned, and all that. It’s what came after that truly ruined me.”
I brace myself for her answer.
Please don’t tell me you fell pregnant, and that’s why you tried to end your life.
For an instant, the world around me seems to be closing in. Images of Anastasia flash through my mind, and my heart thunders in my chest as I await her reply.
“When he’d finished, he stood, pulled his pants up, and helped me to my feet. I straightened my dress before searching the ground for my underwear. I couldn’t find them. When I asked him to help me look, he screamed at me. I was on the verge of tears by then, anyway. He went from loving and attentive one minute to cold and distant the next. He turned and started heading back toward the gymnasium, so I followed. I was confused. My gut told me this wasn’t normal behavior, but again, I had nothing to gauge from. We walked inside, and he moved straight toward his friends…” She pauses for a moment, clearing her throat. “You know what he did when he reached them?”
“What?”
“He pulled my underwear out of his pocket and waved it around in the air like a trophy. Everyone around him started to cheer, a couple even fist-pumped him.”
I’d like to fist pump his face.
“Fucking hell.” My blood starts to boil as everything she went through plays over in my mind. “What did you do?”
“I marched over there.” I fight my grin because I can picture feisty Emma doing just that. “I was humiliated, but I had to confront him.” I see the beginning of tears glistening her eyes, but I let her continue. “I tried to snatch my underwear out of his hand, but he held them high in the air so I couldn’t reach. Everyone was laughing. God, it was so awful,” she says, swiping her finger under her eye to catch the first tear. “That’s when I found out he pursued me because of a bet… for a measly fifty dollars. Then he told me he didn’t date pigs.”
Emma turns her face away from me as her hands frantically swipe over her cheeks. She may be trying to hide it from me, but I know the tears are coming thick and fast now. I quickly stand, pulling her in, and hugging her to my chest. I want nothing more than to protect her and give her every damn thing she’s never had.
“Everyone starting laughing and oinking,” she whispers.
“Em…” My open palm rubs soothing circles on her back, trying my best to console her. I feel some of my own emotions bubble to the surface as I try to swallow the huge lump that’s now risen to my throat. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” I’m not sure what else I can say.
“From that day on, I was known as the pig around town, not to mention the school slut,” she says with a sniffle. “They’d oink or throw food at me as I passed. I couldn’t escape it, even outside of school hours. Guys would grab at me like I was a piece of meat, and once Tabitha… Kyle’s ex, Miss-Mean-Girl-Extraordinaire, got on the bandwagon, things only got worse.”
I feel like a complete ass now for making her relive this. “What did your dad do? Didn’t he try to put a stop to the bullying?”
“He didn’t know for a long time. I suffered in silence. I didn’t want to worry him, and he was happy thinking I’d finally made friends.” Emma buries her face further into my chest. “He went ballistic when he eventually found out. Dad’s always been a soft and gentle man, but that day he was manic. I still get chills thinking about it. His tirade got him arrested after he scuffled with the school principal.”
“Good, I’m glad. Not that he got arrested. I only wish I was around back then, so I could’ve protected you.”
“You wouldn’t have given me the time of day.”
“I’d never stand by and let anyone be treated so poorly.”
“Thank you for saying that,” she says, sniffling.
“I want to kill him for crushing your spirit. If I ever run into Kyle-fucking-Sanders, he’s going to meet the same fate as Bob. I may even use my Range Rover this time.”
Her shoulders start to shake as she draws back from me, and that’s when I realize the tears have been replaced by laughter.
I meant every word, but I’m glad she found the humor in my threat. I’d rather see her laugh than cry.
Seeing her upset fucks me up inside.
I brush the remaining tears from her face. “You’re a good friend, Ashton Barclay.”
“I’m the best.”
She rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.” Her comment brings a smile to my face.
I cup her face, and her red puffy eyes tug at my heart. “You’re gorgeous, smart, kind, and you have the most caring heart. Don’t ever forget that. Anyone who can’t see that is a blind fool.”
“Thank you.”
“I know it wasn’t easy for you to relive that night, but I’m grateful you shared your story with me.”
She smiles, one of her beautiful smiles, the one that never fails to leave
me breathless. “Thank you for listening and for all the kind things you said.”
Releasing her, I sit back down, pulling her onto my lap. “That’s enough talking for now, let’s eat some donuts.”
“Let’s,” she says, reaching for the box.
My hand is wrapped in hers as we walk back to her car. There’s comfortable silence between us, but the closer we get to her vehicle, the more agitated I become. I’m not ready to let her go yet. Who knows when I’ll get to see her again?
The last few hours have given me a glimmer of hope. She’s not fighting us because of me, it’s her past that’s standing in her way. I can relate to that. Not that she knows about my daily struggles. But they are there as strong as ever, teetering just below the surface, keeping in check.
It’s only a matter of time before my damaged side shows itself, and that’s what scares me the most, especially after everything I’ve learned today. I don’t want to hurt her, but the chances are I will.
My phone dings in my pocket, but I choose to ignore it.
“Aren’t you going to see who that is?” she asks.
“Nope.” My morning with her is quickly drawing to an end, and I don’t want to waste one second of it.
“What if it’s an emergency?”
“I’m sure it isn’t.”
“But what if it is?”
“Fine.” I stop walking, digging into my pocket to retrieve my phone. It’s from my mother.
Mother: Don’t forget dinner at six. The Hendersons will be joining us again. Willow is looking forward to seeing you. I hope you can stay longer this time. Please don’t disappoint me, darling.
Fucking great.
I shove the phone back into my pocket without replying.
“Not important?” she asks.
“Nope.”
My good mood is souring fast. Everything in me wants to call my mother and tell her I can no longer make it. But dinner as a family on the first Saturday of each month—Em’s Sinful-Saturday—has always been our thing. Sometimes it’s the only time I get to see my parents, and I know my mother looks forward to our evening together. I wouldn’t mind it so much if she weren’t constantly trying to set me up with every available woman she knows. The last thing I want is to suffer through another dinner with googly-eyed Willow sitting across from me.