by Harper Sloan
My eyes snap open and I zero my stare in on where he's standing and looking out the window. Who the hell is he talking about?
"Don't give me that shit, Asher. Yeah, what the fuck ever." He's silent as he listens to whatever Asher is saying to him, and after a few more clipped responses, he ends the call and tosses his phone on the desk. Turning his face gives nothing away when he realizes that I've been watching him.
I shake my head when I realize that this is how he's going to play it. We're back to stupid Emmy and silent Maddox.
After throwing back the sheet, I move to stand in front of him. His eyes flash for the briefest of moments before he schools his expression. Well, at least we know he isn't indifferent to my nude body.
"What am I supposed to wear?" I ask in a tone that oozes sarcasm.
He doesn't speak. Instead, he moves around my body and grabs a bag off the floor behind me. Then he holds it out to me. I keep looking into his eyes, watching the deep, dark brown remain expression and emotionless.
"Right. When you're ready to use your big-boy words, maybe we can continue this playdate."
I reach up to take the bag, but before my fingertips can wrap around the strap, he lets it fall to the floor. I watch it fall, taking my eyes off him, and before I can rip him a new one, I'm pressed against his clothed body and his lips are dueling with mine. After kissing the wind out of my sails, he releases me, bends, grabs the bag, and once again holds it in my direction.
I snatch the bag from him and stomp into the bathroom, childishly slamming the door behind me--just because I can.
Once I throw my long hair into a messy bun, I open the bag to find my own clothes. My brow creases as I try to come up with a logical reason to explain why he would have my own things--things I know I didn't pack when I left town. I quickly get dressed, throwing on a pair of yoga pants and T-shirt. When I exit the room, he is still standing by the window, his hands pushed into his pockets and his posture almost relaxed--something that is rarely seen with him.
"How did you get my clothes?"
"Grabbed them when I got Cat." He doesn't turn, so I have to quickly turn my shocked expression into some verbal response to that news.
"And why did you have Cat?"
"Because you ran. Someone needed to take care of her."
"Yeah? That someone was Melissa. Cohen was going to babysit for a while," I snap back. I'm primed for a fight now.
"Don't make me kiss that sass right out of your mouth, Emersyn. A lot happens when you're gone for a little over a month. Melissa had an accident. Everyone is okay now, but for a while, there was a lot of unknown. Part of the reason it took me so long to get to you was because I needed to go back home and help out while Greg was at the hospital with Melissa and the twins."
His words take my fight and squash it. Just like that, he knocks me down a few pegs. Melissa, out of all the girls, I connected the most with. Our friendship is one of the many things I've missed since I ran. I called her after I left my letter with Axel to ask her to grab my cat, but I've been so busy living in my own head that I haven't even called her since.
"She okay? The girls?" I beseech, desperate to know that they're okay.
"They're fine now. You need to call her. She's worried about you--they all are."
I can't respond to him. My mind is racing at just how much I have let the people who have come to be my family down. Very briefly, the thought crosses my mind that, if Coop hadn't run into me all those years ago, their lives would be so much better, but I quickly dismiss it. There is a reason for everything, and as unjust as it is, he was meant to come into my life--even if it was the beginning of the end for him.
"What are you thinking?" Maddox asks, letting his stoic exterior slip. His head is cocked slightly, his brows furrowed and his lips pursing. He has no idea how attractive he is either, which just adds to his appeal.
"How better off they would have been if Coop had never found me."
"Excuse me?" His tone is hard and unforgiving.
"Don't make me repeat myself. I'm not fishing here, but repeating what I was thinking. Things would be so different if that day hadn't happened."
"Yeah, you're damn fucking right it would be."
"I don't know why you're getting so pissed, Mad. I thought it. I can't exactly control my fleeting thoughts. I was the one he took that bullet for. Take me out of the equation and what do you get? You get Coop. THAT is what you get."
He shakes his head and moves to pull me closer, but I step away from him. His nostrils flare and his jaw twitches, but he doesn't say anything.
"You really believe that, don't you?"
I nod my head and he drops his. I watch as he runs his hand over his scalp and clasps the back of his neck. I can hear him muttering to himself but can't make out his words.
"Let me explain something to you. If you hadn't have been there, there would have been a handful of different situations. One, he would have stepped in front of Dee. Two, he would have been late walking in and Dee would have been there alone. We could have had anyone sitting in your desk and it wouldn't have mattered to Coop. He would have jumped in front of that gun regardless of who the intended target was. That's just who he was, and I know deep fucking down you know I'm right. Stop thinking about all the things that could have happened and be thankful that you're alive and knew him for the time you did." His chest is heaving when he finishes, and before I can open my mouth, he just holds his hand up and walks around me...straight out the door.
I know he's right. I've been using my anger with myself so I haven't had to feel all of the pain I felt right after he died. The pain of losing someone so dear to me. There isn't a fear I've known in my life like looking into the barrel of a gun-wielding maniac. I think a small part of myself will always feel somewhat responsible for his death because of the fact that he died saving me. Bottom line, Maddox is right. I should be focusing on the fact that I even knew him--regardless of how long that period was.
"Chin up, buttercup." Oh, the irony.
With no idea where I am or what I'm supposed to do if he doesn't come back, I settle into the bed and flip on the television. I focus on the program, something about grown woman acting like some hilarious rip-off of Toddlers and Tiaras. I watch but allow my mind to wander. I can't believe that I've been gone for almost five weeks and I haven't even thought about checking in. What kind of friend doesn't even give a thought to those left behind?
Maybe Maddox is right. Maybe I should go back. But how do I do that when I'm not sure I can even let go of this guilt? I can't go back until I know with no doubt that I'm fixed. It's time to pick up the pieces of my life and stop living in the fear of the unknown.
**
Maddox comes back an hour later. His mood is much better and his arms are full of food. We sit in a somewhat comfortable silence while we eat. For him, that's normal, but I'm still trying to figure out if I'm willing to go back--or if I should go back to Syn, where I've always felt like I would end up rotting away in my destined role of the princess.
"Are you done thinking all that bullshit?" he asks between mouthfuls of his burger.
"Depends on which bullshit you're referring to."
"Don't play games, Em. Do you still think that we're better off having never met you? That I'm better off?"
"I don't know how to answer that, okay? I want to believe that I'm just speaking out of my ass, but I can't help how I feel. I'm working on it, and honestly, Maddox, that's the best I can give you right now."
He drops his burger and nods his head. "I used to think the same thing. Had I done something--anything--different that my life would have taken a different path. I used to think that maybe there was one thing that could have stopped the snowball from going out of control."
"And what changed?"
"You did." He drops my eyes and starts to clean his mess up. "Are you done?" He doesn't wait for me to actually respond but continues to clean up around me.
"How the hell did I change y
our way of thinking?"
"No matter what I did to make you hate me, you still came back for more. You were unbiased with your feelings towards anything I threw at you."
"You're making no sense, Maddox." My mind is swirling with everything he's saying. I just have no idea what to make of it all.
"Nothing, Em. Just forget I said anything."
"I can't just forget that! You don't sit here and say all of that to me and just say, 'Oops, just kidding! Forget I finally opened my mouth!'" I stand back from my seat at the desk and march into his space, taking the trash and throwing it on the floor. "What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?"
"What does it matter? I used to think that I could have changed my future. I used to think that I could manipulate those around me into not caring so that, in return, I didn't harm them. And then you came into my life and there was no changing you. So, yeah, Emmy... I used to think that I could have changed my path in life, but now, I know that I've just been playing the game of fate and there isn't shit I can do to make it any better. I am what I am, and all that is me will do nothing but pull you under a riptide you'll never survive."
"I don't even know what to say to that."
"So don't say anything," he says with sadness.
"I wish you could see yourself how I see you. Or maybe if you would let me in, open up to me, I would understand a little better why you continue to break my heart. At this point, Mad, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to put it back together again."
His eyes darken and his lips part when he sucks in a deep breath.
He steps out shortly after to make some calls. I don't ask. I just curl up into the covers and pray that sleep takes me away from the harshness of reality.
Chapter 12--Maddox
One night. I spend one night between her thighs and suddenly my walls are crumbling down. Mentally, I'm frantically trying to repair their damage. Attempting to reinforce them against the tempting allure of her love. It would be so easy to fall at her feet and beg her for everything she's ever offered me. I want to; God, I want to. But right now, what's important is getting her the hell out of here and doing what I need to do to fix whatever is going on in her pretty head. I have no doubt that she is suffering greatly at his loss, but now, after hearing how she grew up, I fear that her issues might go deeper.
Regardless of what is going on around us, I feel unsettled with the hope that's building within. The hope that maybe, just maybe, it's okay to let her in. I don't know what to do with that feeling. I've spent so long refusing to believe in it that it's terrifying.
I woke up before the sun and started making plans and getting the ball rolling. I rented us a place about an hour from home--a cabin that one of our contacts owns. He is going to be overseas for the next couple of months and needs someone to keep an eye on his place. In reality, I could have just as easily passed this job to someone more local to him, but this is just what Emmy needs. Somewhere neutral. Not back home, where our friends care too much to give her the time she needs, and damn sure not in this hellhole I found her in.
I take a moment after returning to our room to watch her sleep. She doesn't look sad when she's sleeping. I hate the part I've played in her sadness. This time away--together--will be good for us. If I really am going to forget everything that's been integrated into my life since birth, then I need to make sure she can handle this baggage she is so willing to help me carry.
If there really is a future with us, then this is the time to find out.
Letting her sleep, I go about cleaning up the mess in the room and carry the few belongings we had with us down to my Charger before settling into the chair in the corner and watching my angel. I sit there in the shadows of the room and let myself feel, something I rarely do and never do when someone can see me. I let the future that could be us play out in my mind, feeling that flicker of hope grow a little larger when I can't see anything but her love for me...and mine for her.
**
We've been on the road for a few hours now and she remains silent. I know she's still fuming that I followed through with my promise that she wouldn't be going back to Syn. We went by her hotel room, and as she stood pissed in the middle of the room, I packed her belongings into her suitcases. Five minutes later, we were back in the car and on our way to Georgia.
I keep my mouth shut. There really isn't anything for me to gain by allowing her to pick a fight. She wants to feel like she's in control of her life, and by me swooping in and taking over, she's free-falling. It's not that I'm trying to do that. I just want to make sure she's where she belongs and not dancing for a room full of assholes while being at the hands of that motherfucker... Now that is not where she belongs.
One day, maybe she will see where I'm coming from, but if I have to get nothing but her anger in return for her safety, then I'm okay with that.
"Where are we going, Mad?" she whispers hoarsely.
"Not home, so stop worrying about it. We're going to a cabin in Pine Hills. It's sitting on fifty acres in the middle of nowhere. You need time, I get that, but you also need help getting over everything. So when you're ready, we go home--but not until you're ready."
She's quiet for so long that I look over at her. Her mouth is hanging slack, her eyes bugged out in shock.
"I need time? I need to get over everything? Well, isn't that magnanimous of you, Maddox Locke." She laughs, the sound hitting my ears and making me cringe. "Maybe while we're there, we can find a mirror for you to look in and repeat that shit you just shoveled at my feet to yourself. Hello? Pot, meet kettle."
"This isn't about me, Emmy."
"Oh, you stupid, stupid man. It's always been about you."
I don't let her see it, but her words hit home. She couldn't have delivered a more direct shot if she'd tried. Sure, she doesn't know what she just did. She doesn't know because you never let her in, you idiot. My mother's words come back to me like a tsunami. The pain of always being her stupid little boy tries to take root, but I brush it aside. Emmy is nothing like my mother, and even as careless as her words are, she's talking out her hurt right now.
"Emersyn," I start. "Don't let my desire to protect you be confused as stupidity. It has never been about me. I don't keep myself from you because I think it's some fun goddamn game." I pause, needing a second to swallow the lump in my throat. I'm trying so hard to keep my heart from breaking free from my body. The emotions I've hidden for so long are rattling the cages, just waiting for that moment to pounce, and it terrifies me to think of what will be left of me if they get out. "I've been told my whole life that I was the worst kinds of evil. That my soul is as black as my eyes and that everything and everyone I touch will wilt at my hands. So, Emmy, this," I stress, pointing between us, "THIS has never, not once, been about me."
The rest of the ride is uncomfortable at best. I never intended to tell her that much. I struggle during every mile with what I could say to take that verbal vomit and shovel it back in. She knows more with just those few sentences than anyone else in my life.
And I'm terrified to think about what she must think of me now. The man she has loved unconditionally for years isn't who she thinks he is. I'm sure she regrets every second of it now. I'm not sure what unsettles me more--the thought that she might regret giving her love or that she might be afraid of the truth of me.
Or worse...that she'll take that love away and never give it back.
**
When we get to Devon's cabin, I leave her to her exploring. She retreats to one of the back bedrooms and shuts the door softly behind her. I give her that play, knowing that she's processing my words.
I make sure that everything is stocked and we'll be set for the unforeseeable future. When that's done, I'm left with nothing left to do. The television holds no appeal. I call and check in with Axel then settle on the couch. Knowing that I have some time alone, I take a second to rub the pained muscles in my thighs. I need to get my prosthetic off before I do more damage than necessary to my stump. I
t's been a long few weeks and I've felt like this was coming for a while now. Usually when the skin gets too irritated for me to wear the prosthetic, I work from home, giving the skin the rest it needs and, sometimes, the sores time to heal. Keeping my weight off it for a while does the trick but never fixes the issue.
I've come to live with this part of my future. I hate every moment of it, but it's my reality.
"What's wrong with your leg?"
Her question startles me. I was so lost in my own head that I didn't even hear her coming into the room.
I immediately pull my hand off my leg. "Nothing."
"Is that how this is going to be now? Okay. Why don't I tell you what I think is wrong with your leg? I think this might be a little more forthcoming than waiting for you to snap the hell out of it and admit that I'm standing right in front of you, wanting to help carry your fucking burdens."
I narrow my eyes and do my best to tell her to shut the hell up without words. The feeling of helplessness, an emotion I haven't felt in years, floods my system.
"Nothing to say, Maddox? Not that I should be surprised."
"Emersyn, shut your mouth."
"No!" she screams. "I will not shut my mouth! I'm sick of shutting my mouth. Guess what, big boy? This poor little naive girl sees you. I see through the bullshit you put up as a shield. I see through the anger you push on others to keep them at arm's length. I see past it all. The pain that is deep within you. The shame, fear, and helplessness. I see you!" She finishes, screaming her words at me with so much force that her skin is flushed and her breathing is accelerated. "I see you," she whispers. "All of you."
"You have no idea what you're talking about." I dismiss her wrath and try to ignore the shitstorm that's coming, hoping she gives it up and goes back to the room.
"I know exactly what I'm talking about. I know because my soul recognizes its mate. Its kindred spirit. We both have our pain, Maddox. We both have the shame of our past and the fear it holds on the future. The only difference is you let that pain and fear rule your heart. And the difference in me is that I am willing to risk it all day in and day out for just a second of your love."
She's right. I couldn't have said it better myself.