She slid off the exam table and came toward me, her eyes locked on my face. “Can you all leave us alone?”
The doctor hesitated, while Angel, her blue eyes calmer now than they had been just moments ago, came over and brushed a kiss against Emmy’s cheek. “I’ll be back in, okay?”
She slid out the door and Emmy turned her attention to the doctor.
“I know what you need to ask but it’s okay. He didn’t rape me. He didn’t have time. I’m okay.”
The doctor’s mouth firmed into a flat line and she breathed in through her nose, then out. “You still went through a trauma. You should consider talking to someone.”
“I will. Now if you don’t mind…”
The words delivered like a politely veiled order from a queen to her subject and a moment later, we were alone.
Emmy turned on me, looking at me with bruised eyes. The queen was gone now, in hiding or just too tired to lift her crown. “Why are you trying to run?”
I didn’t bother to pretend not to understand.
“I don’t need to be here,” I said in a harsh voice. “I failed you.”
“No!” She shook her head. “You saved me.”
“If we’d done what we’d promised, you wouldn’t have needed saving,” I argued.
“If I hadn’t had three drinks and been a fool, I wouldn’t have needed saving,” she retorted. “I let him walk me out of there. He hands me some line about a woman he’s got back at another hotel and I waltzed right out of there. I didn’t even stop to consider he might be lying to me. It’s my fault, not yours—hell, screw that. It’s his fault. He’s the one who put his hands on me. He’s stalked me halfway across the country, he’s threatened me, he lied, and he put his hands on me—screw me taking blame and screw you taking blame. He did it. Not us. Not you and not me.”
She had her chin up in the air and despite the bruises on her, despite the tangled hair and exhaustion that stamped her features, she’d never looked more beautiful.
I went to touch her cheek.
My busted, bruised knuckles caught my eyes and I lowered my hand back down.
“This…you, me…we were a bad idea all along, Emmy,” I said, the words coming out on a ragged whisper. “If I hadn’t been so fucking twisted over you, I would’ve handled this better.”
Her mouth fell open but I didn’t let myself say anything else as I turned and walked away.
There were reasons I had rules about relationships.
I didn’t get involved in them for a reason.
This was one of them.
I flat-out sucked at them.
22
Sly
I’d missed two shows.
Mac had covered for me. I only know because he texted me. I didn’t bother answering back. Both he and LeVan had done nothing but try to call and text, while I had done nothing but try and forget that a world existed outside my isolated little place here in the desert.
I wanted to try to forget that Emerald Sky Montrose existed.
But that wasn’t happening.
Every time I closed my eyes, she was there.
Every time I opened my eyes, I felt her.
It didn’t matter that I’d left her behind. It mattered that I couldn’t get her off my mind. She was deep inside my head, flowing through my blood now, sewn into my soul. Worse, I was starting to think she’d taken up residence in a place that didn’t have the capacity for doing anything except beating in my chest.
She opened my fucked-up heart, a part of me that was supposed to be dead. It was hard to believe it anymore because there was a dull, echoing ache in the middle of my chest that hadn’t gone away for the past week, ever since I’d left her at the hospital.
It was either heartache, or a really bad case of heartburn.
Personally, I was hoping for heartburn, because that at least had a chance of going away.
The sound of an engine was almost enough to stir me out of the slump where I’d been since I’d woken up, but not quite. Lying on the couch with my booted feet kicked up on the backrest, I stared at the ceiling and tried to decide if I was glad one of them had finally dragged their ass out here to check on me.
I was running low on booze, which was a certain indicator of my state of mind. I wasn’t sure I could convince either of them to make a run into the nearest town for me, though, so that was a bit of a downer.
When the engine finally came to a purring rumble, I closed my eyes.
It was Mac.
I recognized the sound of the engine.
The engine didn’t turn off either. He probably had Angel waiting in the car. I didn’t see why.
She wasn’t going to be able to talk me into coming to Las Vegas or anything else. I didn’t know if I even wanted to go back.
Didn’t matter that they counted on me or that I had shows booked through the rest of the year and through the early part of next. Refunding those tickets would cost me a shitload—and the hotel a fuckload—but so what? We had more shitloads and fuckloads of money than we’d ever spend.
A heavy fist pounding on a door somewhere interrupted my mental reverie and I cracked an eye open. Definitely Mac. LeVan couldn’t make it seem like the entire damn house might shake just because he knocked on the door.
Staying where I was, I craned my head around to study the bottles that littered the table. None of them looked like they had anything in them, which was a fucking tragedy.
Alcohol had helped numb the misery a little, which could account for the fact that I felt like I was still half drunk despite the fact that I hadn’t had anything since I’d finished off a bottle last night.
“There you are, you miserable son of a bitch,” a familiar voice said.
Mac didn’t sound angry. He sounded exasperated.
Great. It would be harder to get him out the door if that was the mood he was in. As he bent over the couch to study me, I summoned up what little energy I had and managed to say, “Fuck off.”
“Yeah, we’ve been fucking off and leaving you alone for a week—and you’ve been fucking off and getting drunk during that week,” Mac said easily. “Doesn’t look like either of us made the best decision there, now did we?”
I flipped him off.
“That’s nice. Wake the fuck up.”
“Get the fuck out of my house,” I said.
“Don’t make me kick your sorry ass,” Mac said again. “There’s someone here to see you.”
“I already figured that. You left your car running.” I did sit up—not because he’d told me to, but because it was annoying having him loom over me. Craning my neck, I took in the vista that sprawled out in front of the window. His car was visible and I could just barely make out the shadow in the passenger seat. “Angel ain’t going to be able to talk sense into me any better than you will. So why don’t both of you just fuck off?”
“It’s not Angel.” Mac bent over the couch even more and spoke almost directly into my ear. “You’re going to want to clean up and be a bit more presentable for this. So…either get up, or I’ll haul your ass off that couch and throw you into the shower myself. You stink like a dog. No, that’s an insult to dogs everywhere. You stink to high hell.”
“Yeah. Good luck with—you son of a—”
I ended up on the floor as Mac upended the couch and before I could pull my half-drunk ass upright, he leaped over the back of it, long hair flying around his shoulders. He came at me and it was pathetic how easy he got me locked and pinned.
“You fucker!” I bellowed at him, swiveling my hips and trying to find a way to break his hold.
If I’d been sober, I probably could’ve managed it.
But Mac knew my moves, knew my timing.
And he knew I was half out of my head, too.
“You going to cooperate here or do I have to haul you into the shower and make you clean up, you miserable asshole?” Mac demanded.
“Why don’t you leave me the hell alone?” I grunted and swung back with an
elbow, but it hit his ribcage, which might as well have been carved from iron.
“I will, after you talk to the lady in the car.”
I went limp.
The lady.
If it wasn’t Angel…
“I don’t want to talk to Emmy,” I said woodenly.
“Yeah, well, it ain’t Emmy either.”
He got up.
Confused, I rolled onto my back and stared up at him. He held out a big hand and without thinking, I took it. A second later, I was up on my feet and my head whirled with the speed of the movement.
“You puke on me, I’ll make you eat it,” Mac promised.
“If it ain’t Emmy, who is it?” I asked, bemused.
“You’ll see for yourself…after you shower.”
I came out of the shower almost twenty minutes later. I’d guzzled some of the spray, hoping the fluids would clear the fog from my brain. It didn’t work. The hot water did make me puke, though, and I ended up spilling more than a little of the whiskey left over from the night before.
Surprisingly, that helped.
I wasn’t feeling particularly spry when I walked out of the bathroom, but at least the fog was gone. A miserable headache remained, but if it distracted me from the miserable ache in my chest, bring it on.
I stopped by the kitchen long enough to grab a cup of the coffee that Mac must have started.
The caffeine hit my raw, abused stomach like a hammer, but I gamely sipped more, waiting for the jolt to hit my system and help with the headache, even if just a little bit.
Out in the living room, I paused a moment to take in the coffee table, now clear of bottles. Mac must have worked some serious sleight of hand in here. It no longer looked like I’d had a one-man, weeklong party in here. I still needed a maid, but it wasn’t as much of a disaster.
I did another double take a second later, because out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone move, and I hadn’t even realized I wasn’t alone.
Turning my head, I met the green gaze of a tall, slim woman.
She was staring at me as if she’d seen a ghost.
“Who the fuck are…”
The rest of it died on my lips as she lifted shaking hands to her lips.
Red hair spilled down her shoulders. Red the same shocking shade as mine. And that green gaze…I’d seen it a million times in my life. Every damn time I looked in the mirror.
“Who are you?” I asked, forcing the full question out this time.
She didn’t answer at first. There was something familiar about her, familiar beyond the fact that her hair and eyes were so like mine, but I didn’t want to think about it. Because I couldn’t. It hurt too much.
“Who are you?” I said, the question coming out louder, harder.
She flinched this time, but just shook her head. As I watched, she reached into the purse at her side and pulled something out. I stiffened, but relaxed when I saw what looked like a picture frame. She lifted her hand and held it out. Her entire body trembled as she stared at me.
I had to drag myself across that floor.
It seemed to stretch out to almost a mile and my feet had turned to leaden weights, the journey inexorably long. But finally, I was close enough to reach her and I lifted a hand to take the picture she held out.
Somehow, I knew.
I didn’t know how, but I knew what I was going to find.
I had few clear memories of the time when I’d been a kid, fewer still of my mother and Addy, my little sister. Most of the clear memories were from the awful night when my stepfather told me she was gone because of me. I remembered that with near-crystalline clarity, then the way he came after me, with fists and fury.
But there was one memory.
A picture. Sitting on the dresser of the room I’d shared with Addison. A small, cramped room that smelled like dirty diapers after Mama died. He’d taken the picture once and I found it, brought it back to the room, and hid it under the mattress of her baby bed.
I hadn’t had a chance to go back and get it that final night.
I closed my fingers around the picture and lifted it, staring down at my mother’s face.
My mother, me, and the baby.
I had no idea who’d taken the picture, but whoever had done it had gotten my mother to smile.
The expression was strained, almost like it was odd for her to smile, but she was beautiful. With or without that smile, she’d been beautiful, with our red hair and eyes that might’ve been just as green.
Stunned, I fell back a couple of steps and I might have stumbled on back until I ended up on my ass if it wasn’t for the couch that I came up against. I hit it with my hips and stayed there, staring at the picture for the longest time before slowly looking up at the woman in front of me.
“Addy,” I whispered. “I don’t…” I shook my head. “I don’t understand. You’re… He told me you died.”
“Social Services came for me,” she said, her voice shaking. “They were there for both of us. But you weren’t there. They had to take me because I was sick.”
“I wasn’t taking care of you. I didn’t know how,” I said, feeling like the world had just been flipped end over end. Addy was alive.
“It wasn’t your job!” She took a hesitant step toward me. “You were just a little boy…” She licked her lips, looking hesitant and uncertain. “Your… They said you go by Sly. Is that what I call you?”
Numb, I nodded. “It’s really you.”
“Yes.” A nervous smile curled her lips. “It’s really me. The social worker went back to find you, but you were gone.”
“I ran away.” Feeling more and more out of touch, I focused on the picture, staring at this piece of my past and holding on to it. “He told me it was my fault and the cops would come for me. I ran. I…hell, it’s a long, ugly story. But I don’t understand. How did you find me?”
“I didn’t.” She bit her lip. “It was Emmy. She found me.”
23
Emmy
Yoga wasn’t helping.
Ice cream wasn’t helping.
Chocolate helped. Until it melted and then I was back where I started—miserable and alone.
Sitting out on the boat dock near Mom’s house on the lake, I stared at the slowly sinking sun. I was trying to pretend really hard not to think.
When the phone rang, it shattered the silence, and one look at the screen told me I wasn’t going to be able to blank out my brain much longer. Angel's voice came through the telephone. A part of me wished I hadn't left Vegas. I could use a friend right now, and my cousin was the best one I had.
We talked for a little while, about everything but the one thing I wanted to know and finally, unable to fake it anymore, I just lapsed into silence.
She seized the moment.
"You are so not okay, Emmy."
"How do you expect me to be?” I replied. Before she could answer, I added, “Seriously, I'm as good as I'm going to be for a while. But I don't want to talk about me. How is the baby?"
Angel huffed out a sigh. "Dirty pool, girl." But she relented. "She's doing better. The doctor said it was a virus called RSV. It's not much different from a cold really, but apparently newborn babies and RSV don't mix well. She's knocking it, though. My little girl is a champ."
"And how’s her mama?"
"Mama is freaked out. A sick baby, a cousin who could’ve been killed and now said relative has gone off the grid to parts unknown?”
“I’m not” I said, rolling my eyes. “I’m at Mom’s lake house. And I’m answering my phone, so not quite off the grid.”
“You might as well be in parts unknown. How am I supposed to help you?" Angel laughed, the sound sharper than normal. "How can I take care of you, or even be there for you when you went and took off like that?”
"I had to be away, Angel," I said softly. "I'm sorry."
"I know. I just..." Her words trailed away and an understanding silence spread out between us on the line.
“
I guess I should probably go,” Angel said finally. “Colleen will wake up soon and I’d like to go pee without having to juggle with the gripey baby.”
I laughed a little, a real laugh. It felt good. “The exciting life of a new mama.”
“Oh, the glamour.” She hesitated a moment, then said, “I miss you, Emmy.”
“I know. I miss you, too.”
“You shouldn’t be all along right now.”
I wanted to tell her I’d be back in a few days, but I needed more time. I needed some distance between Sly and me.
At the same time, having this distance was a pain that was near visceral.
I’d left Las Vegas after Sly missed his first show, because I realized he was serious. He didn’t want to be with me.
For whatever reason, he didn’t want to be with me. I hadn’t been looking for a Happily Ever After—or maybe I had been, and I just hadn’t realized it.
But I hadn’t expected him to walk out on me on the worst day of my life without so much as a goodbye.
Not that goodbye would’ve helped. It would’ve just been another pain.
Sooner or later, I’d have to go back, because I wasn’t letting him chase me away from my cousin or the job I’d taken on. But I needed to heal. Not physically. The bruises from the attack were mostly gone, although my throat still hurt some.
It paled in comparison to the ache in my chest and I would’ve taken that pain any day over the ache in my chest.
I’d spent the past few days at my mom’s lake house a couple of hours from Vancouver. Mom and her new beau, Tom, were there, too, so I wasn’t alone to wallow in my misery the way I wanted to be, but maybe that wasn’t an altogether bad thing.
Mom was…trying.
The past few years we’d worked to rebuild the somewhat strained relationship that had formed between us since high school and right now, she was acting how I imagined she might have if I’d fallen in love in high school and turned to her for a shoulder to cry on.
Except I didn’t much want to cry on her shoulder.
It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate her being there, but I’d gotten used to her…not being there.
Rule You (Vegas Knights Book 3) Page 15