by DC Renee
And I couldn’t think, couldn’t think of anything beyond the feel of Carter’s mouth touching mine, his body pressed against me. It was heaven.
Which was why it was completely surprising when my senses somehow magically woke up. I didn’t know how, and I was pretty sure I hated them at the moment, but I broke the kiss and pushed Carter away.
“No,” I said. “No,” I repeated with much more force when he took a step toward me. I still had Carter’s minty taste on my lips, but it mingled with salt from the tears that had started running down my face.
“Em.” He whispered my name and lifted his hand to wipe away an errant tear, but I pushed his hand away.
“No, God, no,” I said and lifted my hands to my face, covering my eyes, wishing away what just happened. I wasn’t allowed pleasures like this; I wasn’t allowed luxuries like lust, like passion, like love. My guilt was eating at me; my pain was breaking through the momentary happiness my body had experienced. My mind was rejecting my heart … and rightfully so.
“You need to leave,” I said quietly, my voice hesitant.
“No,” he responded, and I looked at him. His eyes narrowed on me as if either angry or determined, but I could see the obvious insecurities there too. I was making him doubt himself, and I felt like an ass for it, but this entire situation was just wrong, so very wrong.
I couldn’t look at him another second; my heart was breaking for both of us. I buried my face in my hands again. “This isn’t happening,” I mumbled through tears against my own hands gripping my face tightly.
“Yes, it is,” I heard Carter’s soft voice, the plea in his tone, and I felt his hands lightly touch my arms. I would cave … I would cave if he stayed here another second even though I wasn’t entirely sure what I’d be caving on.
“No, no, no,” I sobbed, his hands still touching me, stroking me. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I said quietly, my heart breaking inside me, and I couldn’t do anything to catch the pieces as they fell. “I wasn’t supposed to have any friends.” I spoke harshly, knowing I had done this to myself. I had pushed my own boundaries, and somehow, I had crossed the line. Everything I had worked so hard to hide, to bury deep for so long was coming to the surface. It was my fault, but I also blamed Carter for not backing down, for aiding me in my quest for salvation when I deserved none. “I wasn’t supposed to let you into my life. We weren’t supposed to get close,” I rattled off. “We weren’t supposed to fall for each other,” I mumbled.
“But I did,” Carter hissed, his words full of anger and hurt. “I fell for you, Emerson,” he said softer.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” I said severely as I uncovered my face and pushed his hands away from me. “I’m not loveable, and you don’t love me,” I said as I shoved him back.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he told me as I continued to shove him toward the door. “You need to let it go; it wasn’t your fault. Stop punishing yourself.” He tried to appeal to me as I slowly inched him out of the house. He didn’t fight me with his body; he let me lead him away, but his words were like daggers in my soul. “You don’t need to do this, Em. You deserve to be happy. It wasn’t your fault.” He had said that one final sentence before I opened the door and practically threw him out.
“Yeah, it was,” I threw out and shut the front door, but it felt as if I’d just slammed the door to my beating heart. By pushing Carter out, I eased my guilt, but now, there was a hole in my very being, a gaping hole that made me feel worse than I had before. Because I had just thrown out the one good thing in my life, the one person who made me feel complete, the one person who made me pop my head out of the sand. And now that I had tasted that little bit of happiness, I wasn’t sure how I would go back to the life I had before … before Carter.
And as the realization hit me, the tears came faster, my body ached physically and emotionally, and my knees felt weak. I put a hand on the door, bracing myself, and hoping against hope that somehow, I could still feel Carter on the other side. That somehow knowing he was on the other side of that door, probably far away by now, but still on the other side – both symbolically and physically – would bleed through the tiny cracks and caress my senses. It was useless, and I closed my eyes, my head downcast, the tears falling steadily and landing on the floor with light thuds. Because he was gone. I had pushed him away, and I was left to watch the broken pieces of the wall around my heart crumble at my feet.
All those years of self-punishment, all those years of solitude, all those years of keeping people at arm’s length, all those years of guilt, all those years of self-loathing ... gone ... vanished… dissolved into a heap of nothingness. Because none of that mattered at this moment. I fell in love with a boy. I fell in love with a boy who pushed me out of my comfort zone, made me smile at the drop of a hat, bantered with me with ease, put me first so many times, comforted me when I needed him, protected me when I didn’t know I needed protection, and showed me true affection when I thought I was unworthy. I fell in love with a boy who broke through all my barriers, who saw me for me, despite all the pretenses I put up, despite the mask I wore. I fell in love with a boy who said I was beautiful when I knew I wasn’t. I fell in love with a boy. And the thing I couldn’t fathom, couldn’t wrap my mind around, was that boy had fallen in love with me too.
Twenty Eight
Carter
So this is what it feels like, I thought to myself as I leaned against Emerson’s door after she not so graciously kicked me out. I let her, I told myself. But I had to. It was too much too soon. She was breaking right in front of me, cracking herself wide open and letting herself bleed emotions all over the damn floor like a cut that wouldn’t clot. And it was my doing. Even when my heart fought with my head, telling my body to stay grounded, I couldn’t watch her do that to herself. I couldn’t be the cause.
Heartache fucking sucks, I whispered in my head. It had taken me two days to realize my friends had been right about my feelings. Well, almost right. They had underestimated my feelings. I hadn’t known what the hell love was, and I sure as hell didn’t think I loved Emerson even when I processed that I cared about her as more than a friend.
Beth had called me earlier that day and could tell I was sulking.
“So you guys are going to call it a quits, huh?”
“I guess,” I responded.
“But you’re still going to be her friend, right? Like be there for her when she needs someone, or when she’s having a bad day, or if she needs someone to have her back.”
“I’ll fucking kill anyone who harms her,” I roared. And I went momentarily crazy thinking about anyone laying a finger on her. I’d happily go to jail for beating the crap out of them. No one touched the woman I loved. No one touched the woman I love. Love. Holy shit. I loved Emerson. I had a little internal conversation while my sister kept talking to me. I didn’t even hear half of what she said, but I could have sworn Beth had answered my declaration that I’d kill anyone who harmed Em. “Even you?”
At that moment, I understood what she had meant. I had hurt Emerson by pushing her, and I felt like a part of me was stuck on the other side of the door. No, I knew a part of me was stuck on the other side of the door. I turned and put my hand on it, trying to burrow my way back inside, hoping my hand would burn a hole through the door with the scorching heat of my emotions, and I could reach inside and pluck my heart back from Em. No, I didn’t really want to take it back, not that I could if I wanted to. Emerson had my heart, and she could keep it forever, trample it, break it, do whatever she wanted with it because it was hers.
Yet even knowing that Emerson was hurting on the other side of the door, probably feeling some deep, bone-shattering kind of pain because I forced her to face facts she wasn’t ready to face, I wouldn’t have changed anything. She deserved to know how I felt. She deserved to know that I loved her for her and not for any other reason.
I kept one hand braced on the door, the other clutching at my heart bec
ause it physically ached. I replayed the conversation, recounted every detail, and then my head snapped up as if someone had called to me. “She said we,” I whispered softly to myself. “She said we weren’t supposed to fall for each other. We, not you. She loves me,” I announced with a smile, the pressure in my chest loosening significantly.
I lifted my hand to knock, to let Emerson know I wasn’t done with her yet. I wanted to let her know that I knew she loved me too, and I wasn’t done fighting for her, but I stopped my hand midway to the door. Too much, too soon, I echoed the words I had said already to myself. I needed to let her process the night, let her understand what had transpired, and I needed to regroup and figure out how I was going to win Emerson.
I laid my hand on her door one last time. “I love you, Em,” I said quietly. “We’re not done, not by a long shot. I will be back.” And then I pushed off the door and made it home. I didn’t sleep all night, trying to figure out the right approach. I needed the right words to get Emerson to open up for me and let me into her heart … willingly. When morning came, I wasn’t any closer to knowing what to do, but I had been away from Emerson long enough.
When I made it to her home, I vaguely noticed the car in the driveway, but I was a man on a mission. I knocked on the door and was completely surprised when someone other than Emerson opened the door.
“Yes, can I help you?” the older woman asked.
“I … uh,” I looked to the right and left to make sure I was at the right house. “I’m looking for Emerson,” I said. The woman looked at me as if I was an alien from a different planet. Her scrutiny made me uncomfortable and, apparently, made me ramble as well. “We’re uh, friends. I needed to speak with her about something.”
Suddenly, she smiled wide, and her smile looked familiar, but I couldn’t place it.
“You must be Carter,” she said pleasantly.
“Oh, yes,” I responded startled that she knew who I was.
“I’m Vivian, Emerson’s mom. Please, come in.” I felt like mentally slapping myself on the forehead. Of course, it was her mom. She had told me on several occasions that her mother stopped by every morning. And the familiarity of her smile? Emerson’s. “She’s in the shower right now, getting ready for work.”
I followed her inside.
“Coffee?” she asked. “Just making some for myself and Em,” she told me as I sat down in one of the dining chairs.
“No, thank you. I’ll just wait for Emerson,” I said. “Or I can come back another time,” I added and started to get up realizing I might have been broaching upon some mother-daughter bonding time. The last thing I needed was to have Emerson or her mother upset with me for that.
“No, no, I’m going to head out soon,” she said, grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting down opposite me. She studied me for a while, and I might have squirmed a bit. I wasn’t sure what to say, but I opened my mouth, hoping some words would come out, but she beat me to it. “I’ve gotten to see glimpses of my daughter every so often over the years. That’s why I come over every morning. Well, that and because I want to spend time with her. It’s become sort of a tradition,” she explained. “But over the course of the last two months, I’ve seen more than a few glimpses of Em, of the girl she’s been trying so hard to hide. It’s because of you,” she said the last sentence with awe. If I were a shy schoolgirl, I would have blushed fifteen shades of red, but instead, I nodded appreciatively at her acknowledgment.
“You’ve brought something back to her, something that no matter how hard I tried to give to her, she just couldn’t accept. Maybe she thought I was biased since I’m her mother, I don’t know. You’ve brought her love.”
“I—” I started to say something, ask her if she knew about the conversation from the previous night. Ask her if she knew I loved Emerson, but she cut me off.
“She’s scared, Carter,” she said as if she was pleading with me to understand. She didn’t need to because I understood perfectly. “She’s scared to let anyone else get close to her, but she let you. She loves you, I’m sure of it. Whether she realizes it herself yet. And something tells me that matters to you even if she doesn’t believe it.”
“It does,” I told her without hesitation.
“I thought so,” she said as she nodded with a smirk. “Fight for her,” she said more sternly, almost like an order. No orders were necessary. I’d fight for her until my last breath. “She’ll try to push you away. She’ll try to tell herself she doesn’t deserve happiness. Don’t let her. Help her drop the barriers she’s erected and free herself from her cocoon. There’s a beautiful butterfly just waiting to break free.”
“I promise,” I whispered.
“Good,” she said, as she stood up and patted my back. “I’ll be heading out now. Just tell Em I let you in and I’ll talk to her later.”
“Thank you,” I told her as she made it to the door.
“Oh, Carter,” she responded. “I should be thanking you.” And then she was gone.
I sat still for a few more minutes, tapping my fingers on the table, wondering how Emerson would react to finding me in her kitchen waiting for her.
I had heard her voice before I saw her. “Mom,” she called out. “You don’t understand the kind of night I had. I hope you have coffee waiting for me,” she said as she walked out of the hallway and into the kitchen area.
Everything in me halted. Everything in me halted.
My brain shut down.
I lost the ability to speak.
My heart stopped beating.
My body stopped functioning.
I couldn’t breathe.
My arms and legs were useless.
My eyes betrayed me.
My throat closed up.
I was parched.
And the only thing that kept me from truly falling apart was the one thing that was breaking me down in the first place. I could literally feel every molecule in my body as if they were single entities, and every single molecule wanted one thing – the vision standing before me. It was Em, but it wasn’t.
I vaguely realized she had stopped dead in her tracks, her posture panicked, her eyes wary, her hands still holding the towel loosely against her damp hair as if her body had stopped abruptly too.
She was in a tiny robe, not the comfy terry-cloth kind. It was silky, and I could already tell that if I ran my hands over it, the soft material outlining her body would send a shiver up my spine. It showcased her body beautifully, hugging every curve as if she were merely wearing a bodysuit. And holy shit, what a body it was. I already knew her ill-fitting clothes hid something entirely different underneath, but I never imagined she was hiding a Victoria’s Secret model. And yes, guys knew exactly what Victoria Secret models looked like. Shapely legs that seemed to have no end, a tiny waist, a rack that my hands itched to touch. Hey, I might be in love, but I was still a guy. The surprises didn’t stop there. Her face was free of any makeup, no hideous glasses covering her up; she was fresh-faced, pale with a rosy glow high on her cheeks, sharp cheekbones, long fluttering eyelashes, and of course, those eyes. She was stunning, absolutely stunning. Like the girl next door but better. And the cherry on the icing? She had long beautiful blond hair that even hanging in wet curls as she brushed a towel over them, you could tell were just as silky as the robe she was wearing. I wanted to run my hands through her hair as I pulled her face toward mine, claiming her mouth with my own. She was … breathtaking. I couldn’t comprehend or imagine why she’d hide from the world, why she’d steal this kind of beauty and keep it to herself, preventing others from being able to look at the masterpiece she was. Truly, it was as if God’s hands had created a work of art and titled it Emerson.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I said out loud, my voice full of awe. It was as if my entire body was asleep before, and it suddenly came alive when I laid eyes on Emerson. I felt every one of those molecules my body had previously dissolved into come flying back into my body, being sucked in so that I could move acros
s the room in seconds. And I was doing exactly what I had imagined just moments before. My hands were buried in Emerson’s hair, and her lips were crushed by mine. And it was fucking heaven. No, better than heaven. It was love.
She melted under my touch, moaned in my mouth, let the towel she had been holding drop, and allowed me to kiss her with all the passion that had been building inside me. And then she was gone, and I felt her loss as if a part of me had been torn off.
“Oh God,” she gasped as she lifted a hand to her mouth and then before I could even process what happened, she rushed off, bolting toward her door and slamming it shut before I could chase her. I banged on the door, calling out her name.
“Em, please talk to me. Please,” I begged as I continued to pound on her door. There was no response. “I love you,” I told her. “I fucking love you,” I told her with more urgency. “And I know you love me. Please, come out, and we’ll figure everything out together,” I pleaded. “Please, Em, I’m not leaving so stop trying to push me away.”
I continued to speak to her through the door, but she never uttered a word. Finally, an eternity later, she came out, pushing past me. I didn’t know why I was surprised, but I was. She no longer looked like the blonde beauty I had just seen. She was the Em I knew, the Em I had fallen in love with, and if she thought turning back into the ugly duckling would scare me away, she was wrong. She was beautiful to me no matter what. Her looks didn’t matter to me, didn’t affect my feelings. I was human, sure, so I would be lying if I didn’t say her natural beauty didn’t do something extra to my beating heart, but my heart already belonged to Em.
“I’m late for work,” she announced as she darted past me. “And you need to leave,” she added, but I stood still. “I can’t deal with this right now,” she said more to herself than to me. “If you care about me,” she said as she stopped moving about and stared directly at me, “you’ll be gone by the time I get back.” And then she disappeared, leaving me staring at the spot she had just vacated.