by Lila Rose
No. I wasn’t jealous. I wouldn’t let myself be.
“You wanna hit the restaurant?” Ryan asked. He was taking her out on a date.
Closing my eyes, I rested my head on the ledge. A vision of pulling her hair so she’d get away from him popped into my mind. “Don’t be stupid, Emerson,” I muttered to myself.
I glanced back out, covered my mouth with my hand, and bounced down to sit on the bed. Ryan had been looking this way. He wouldn’t have seen me. He shouldn’t have. The window was tiny, it was dark, and the wire fence would have obscured the top of my head and eyes.
Moving my hand, I took a deep breath to calm my erratic heart. I tilted my head, straining my ears to hear anything. They were talking. If I wanted to hear what was being said, I needed to get closer.
Slowly, I got to my shaky legs and straightened. With my back to the wall, I stood beside the window and rested my head close to the opening. Their voices became clear.
“I didn’t hear anything,” she said.
“Hmm,” Ryan grunted.
“Hey.” Her voice changed—it went lower, sweeter. “How about we have dessert before dinner?”
Ryan chuckled. “You’d want that?”
“Yeah, baby. I’d definitely want that.”
I ground my teeth together. She wasn’t really talking about what I thought she was. She couldn’t be.
Taking a chance, I sneakily peeked out the window. My eyes widened when I spotted Ryan reaching out, grabbing the woman’s arm and hauling her into him. Their mouths collided. She moaned, and then again when Ryan picked her up to plant her bottom on the outdoor table.
She ate his face while his hand slid under her skirt.
I wanted to yell at him that he didn’t know where she’d been or cause some loud noise to scare them into stopping.
He deserved better. Someone who dressed nice. Who would go to dinner before having dessert…. Then again, he wasn’t complaining.
Then it clicked.
This was what a one-night stand would be like.
Maybe I was simply hoping it would be because I really didn’t like her for him. She kissed weird, nearly licked his face off. Her nails were like claws as she ran them up and down his back.
My breath caught when I saw Ryan tug her panties from her body. “You wet, sugar?” he demanded in a coarse, totally turned-on tone.
“God, yes,” she panted.
I had to look away, but then she grabbed his tee and said, “No need to prep, baby. I’m ready.”
What did that mean?
Prep what?
If my heart didn’t stop beating so hard that it rang in my ears, I was about to carve it out of my body with a blunt pencil.
“You sure?”
“Oh yeah. I was wet when I first saw you. Wetter now feeling you.”
I didn’t need to hear that. I screwed my nose up and clenched my teeth. I also felt like banging my head against the bricks.
Ryan’s hand disappeared between them. Was he touching her?
The woman smiled. “Told you.”
Ryan growled low, causing my heart to beat harder. He grabbed something out of his wallet from his back pocket, then threw it to the floor. His hand went back between them for a moment longer, and he thrust his hips forwards. She moaned for a long time. Ryan groaned in the back of his throat, and then they were at each other with hands, lips, and teeth.
It was then I realised he was fucking her.
“Harder,” she cried.
My eyes were transfixed on his hips. In and out they went, over and over.
My belly fluttered, something clenched lower, and I figured out what she meant by wet when I suddenly felt my panties dampen.
I needed to look away.
Stop watching.
It was wrong.
So very wrong.
But I couldn’t stop watching his hips, how he ground into her and then slid back out to then do it again.
My clit throbbed. It had never done that. Not even before when I touched myself.
Why was it throbbing at the sight of Ryan fucking?
While I understood why people watched porn and got off on it, everything about this moment and my whole situation was wrong in every possible way. Getting turned on in the here and now sent my mind spinning. What the hell was wrong with me?
The woman moaned and cried out like she was a porn star. Not that I’d seen any, but I’d heard others talk about it. Her noises annoyed me. If I were her, I would be quieter. I’d be kissing him a lot more. I would want him naked so I could touch him everywhere I could.
My mouth dried.
I wanted to be her.
I wanted Ryan fucking me.
In all different ways.
If it didn’t skeeve me completely, I would have reached into my panties and touched myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to. It felt wrong.
Instead, I sank to my knees, hand on my thigh, gripping, and breathing deeply. Trying to calm down. I was disgusted at myself for watching. That was private. I shouldn’t have done that. I was revolted with myself for liking it, for wanting it to be me Ryan was all over, for feeling not only my clit throb but lower. Where I wanted him planted inside of me.
The woman’s cry of pleasure hit my ears. It was loud. Not wanting to hear how Ryan sounded after he came, I curled down onto the bed and pulled the coat over my head. My mind conjured up the thought of me in the woman’s position, but I pushed it away and started counting.
From that moment and on, I knew the thought of keeping my attention off Ryan wouldn’t only be a thought. I had to make it an action, or my sick fascination would turn into something bad. There was no way in hell I would become any type of monster like Gloria.
I was probably being far-fetched, over-imagining what could happen if I kept watching Ryan, but I wouldn’t chance it.
He would exist next door, but I had to curb my curiosity.
I’d continue my days as if Ryan Warden hadn’t moved in.
I would spend my boring existence reading the books I’d read over and over for the last couple of years. I would draw, write, clean, exercise, and try to survive until I had a chance to get away.
If I got that chance.
No, I would.
Like Lenny had said, they wanted my money. I had to believe they would keep me alive for me to sign it over personally or else they would have gotten rid of me a long time ago. I had to believe that with every breath I took.
CHAPTER SIX
EMERSON
The most beautiful thing happened about a month later. I’d kept to my promise; I only watched out the window when I knew Ryan would be at work. I didn’t know what he did with his nights or early mornings. If he worked out or didn’t.
It was late, so late the moon was shining brightly high in the sky. I’d woken from a nightmare sweaty, shaky, and with a hammering heart. Then I heard it. At first, it was just a guitar softly playing. I knew it wasn’t the music Gloria or Lenny listened to because that was heavy and pounding.
This was beautiful.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I got out of bed, seeing enough around me from the light in the toilet room I always left on, with the door just about closed so no light would reach the window. As soon as I moved away from my bed, the music sounded softer. I glanced back to the window. Was Ryan playing music? I went back over to the bed. Since it was a warm night, the window was still open. I climbed up next to it, leaning against the wall.
The soft strum of the strings of the guitar was magical.
I hadn’t heard beauty in such a long time.
What made it more magical was the voice that started singing with the tunes.
Ryan’s deep baritone, along with the guitar, caused me to grip my tee at my chest. Tears sprang quickly to my eyes and flowed over, running a trail down my cheeks.
Turning, I flattened myself against the brick wall, my cheek pressed against it, and I couldn’t help but reach my hand up, fingers touching the window ledg
e. I wanted to get close, to wrap my whole body in his music. I didn’t know if it was a well-known song or one he’d made up himself; whatever it was, I loved it.
It was something I needed in my life. A sense of softness, of something tender reaching into my chest and lighting it with life.
I rolled my head, resting my forehead against the brick. I flattened my other hand against the wall. Listening, feeling, and crying quietly over the wonder.
When the song ended and he started with another, I stayed right where I was, never wanting to miss something that warmed me throughout. Ryan didn’t know, but he was sharing a breathtaking treat with me, and I would always treasure it.
As he started another, one I actually knew, I hummed quietly along with it.
My dad and I loved music. There wasn’t a day that went by where we didn’t have a record, CD, or radio playing in the background.
One day I’d pestered him to get with the times and buy a Bluetooth speaker we could connect our phones to. His reply had been “Emmie, we don’t need to waste money on some babytooth speaker or whatever it is. We have my stereo and the radios. We have all we need for the two of us.” And we had. We worked, ate, and cleaned along with music day in and out. We tried singing along with the songs, but both Dad and I had terrible voices. Music connected my memories to many good times.
I covered my mouth as a sob caught in my throat. I missed my dad. Missed my old friends from my other school. Missed the farm. Missed the animals. Missed my freedom.
Ryan moved on to another song, his fingers drifting over the strings with ease. Why was he awake so late? Did he have trouble sleeping?
Suddenly, he stopped playing. My heart cracked. I needed more, wanted more. Without really thinking, I flew off the bed, across the room, and pulled out my phone from its hiding place. I opened the message box, and using the anonymous texting app, which sends a different, untraceable number than the one assigned to my phone, I typed out Please play more. I hit Send to the only number I had stored in my phone. Why I stored it, I didn’t know, because I had ripped the paper up with his number on it and flushed it away.
My heart crept up my throat, thickening it.
I’d sent a message to Ryan.
I’d sent it because I needed more beauty in my life.
Because hearing him play reminded me of some good times I’d had.
Good times where I’d been loved, safe, and happy.
I fumbled with the phone when it vibrated in my hand.
Licking my dry lips, I then bit my bottom one. Could I open it? I wasn’t sure if I should.
My pulse ticked hard in my throat; my head pounded from anxiety.
With a shaky hand, I pressed the button to light it up. He replied, Who’s this?
I wiped at the sweat beading over my upper lip. Nerves pulled at my stomach. Still, I tapped out a response. Someone who needs music right now.
I pressed Send and regretted it right away. Would he think I wanted him to play all night?
The phone buzzed. Since I just programmed his name in, the new message popped up with Ryan: You live around here?
Unknown: Yes.
Ryan: Where?
Ignoring the question, I asked again. Unknown: Just one more song. Please.
He didn’t reply. Hanging my head, I closed my eyes and clenched my phone to my chest. But then I heard it. I slapped a hand over my mouth and raced back over to the bed. I climbed on it and stood next to the window.
Ryan’s voice mixed with the beat wonderfully. It was a country song, and I loved it more than any of the others because now I knew he was doing it for me, only he didn’t know who I was. But I didn’t care about that fact.
I stared out into the night sky and listened to a song about a woman being beautifully crazy. It was the best moment I’d had in years. My chest expanded with how much I felt right then.
I wanted to be that woman in the song.
A combination of happy and sad tears flowed down. While it was amazing to listen to, I wanted nothing more than for Ryan to actually be singing it to me.
Me.
The scarred, marked, dirty woman.
When it came to an end, I wanted to ask him to sing it again and again.
Ryan: There. The one more song.
My smile was the biggest it had ever been in ages.
Unknown: Thank you. So much.
Ryan: Why did you need it?
Unknown: You play wonderfully, and your voice is… soothing.
Wanting to know if he was outside texting or inside, I had to look. I’d kick myself later for the moment of weakness.
Gripping the window ledge with my fingers, I leaned over to glance out. He stood in nothing but jeans on the deck with his hands on his hips, looking around at the houses in his neighbourhood.
Little did he know I was right next door looking out at him.
Ryan ran a hand through his hair and raised the other near his chest, which held his phone in it.
Ryan: You need help?
He didn’t know, but right then I knew he was a good man. A man who didn’t deserve a burden like me.
Unknown: No. Sorry to disturb you.
Ryan: How’d you get this number?
Unknown: Magic. Going to sleep now.
I looked over to see him read the text, glance around, and then drop his arm to his side. He sighed. When he turned, I got a quick view of his face before he went through the back door with a slam. His brows were drawn; he looked concerned and annoyed. He probably thought he’d find me standing at the end of his bed holding an axe or something just as crazy.
God, what have I done?
Unknown: I promise I won’t be trouble. It was the right thing to do. I didn’t want him worried.
When no answer came, I guessed he was probably getting ready for bed. Brushing his teeth… something I hadn’t done for a long time. I washed them with water, used material to clean them as much as I could. Or Ryan could be taking a shower, another thing I wished I could do. Water from a sink only did so much. I still felt disgusting every day.
I dropped to the bed, opened the screen to look at his messages. I ran my fingers over them, smiling to myself. I spoke to someone out in the real world.
A crazy conversation, but still one nonetheless. Even though it was small, it was something to me. So was him singing. I pressed two fingers against my lips to stop myself from laughing giddily.
I would cherish this night for the rest of my life.
Ryan didn’t know, but he’d given me a gift.
I nearly squealed when my phone vibrated.
I scrolled down to the bottom and read his words.
Ryan: Guess I’ll see.
He would.
Unknown: You will.
Ryan: What’s your name?
My heart jumped hard. I couldn’t give him my name. Could I? No, if he searched anything about me, he would see a police report from whatever Gloria had told them. If he was smart, and he looked it, then he would know I was in the house. Never would I risk him or anyone else.
Although, maybe I could at least give him a part of it. Emmie. I quickly added so I didn’t look as if I already knew it: Yours?
Ryan: Warden.
He’d given me his last name, but I didn’t mind. He was still talking, so I would go with it.
Emmie: Thank you again, Warden.
Ryan: How old are you?
Damn, what would look okay in his eyes? I didn’t think he’d continue texting a nineteen-year-old. He seemed in his late thirties; at least, I thought he was.
Emmie: Why?
Ryan: Need to know I’m not texting some kid.
I wasn’t a child, even if he thought a teen was still classed as a kid. My dad had always told me I was old for my actual age, and I was sure over the last two years I’d aged even more. Thirty. It was the best age I could think of at that moment.
Ryan: Why’re you up late?
Emmie: Why are you?
Ryan: Couldn’t s
leep.
I smiled.
Emmie: Me neither.
Ryan: Better try and get some. Night, Emmie.
My whole body warmed.
Emmie: Night, Warden.
I lay back, crushing the phone to my chest. This was dangerous. I shouldn’t have messaged him. He’d already been my object of attention and now he had me feeling… euphoric. An intense happiness. It scared me.
However, I had managed to stop watching him.
Only I had a feeling that would be blown out of the water. I wanted to see him, watch him. See his mouth move and imagine he’d sing just for me. Sighing, I sat up. I needed to hide the phone in case Gloria or Lenny came down while I slept and found it. I quickly hid it and did something silly. Humming the song, I danced over to the bed.
Laughing softly, I lay back down and flicked the jacket over me. I tucked another jacket under my head and closed my eyes. A smile picked up my lips in the dark because in my mind, I could still hear his voice singing that one song. A song I would listen to on repeat if it was Ryan singing it.
It was the best way to fall asleep.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WARDEN
Sitting at my desk at work, I glanced down to my phone once again. My mind was on the texts I’d gotten the night before. It was fucking strange. Someone in my damn new neighbourhood listened to me. I’d thought, since it was the middle of the damn night, no one else would have been awake, but I’d been wrong. Never had anyone heard me play and sing; it was something I kept to myself. I only did it when I couldn’t sleep, usually because a case wasn’t coming together.
The first text shocked the shit out of me. I would have stopped playing, but when I’d asked why she wanted me to sing another and she answered, it gripped at something inside of me.
She felt soothed by my voice.
It seemed she really needed it though. I got that from the few texts.
Emmie.
Cute name.
But was it her real one?
That was the problem. I didn’t think it was, because when I got into work, I looked up the people around my house and didn’t find anyone by the name of Emmie.