by Cameron Hart
“Gee, thanks for the pep-talk. We should have these heart-to-hearts more often,” She mumbles from the pillow.
“I tried nice, encouraging, cheerleader Emma yesterday, and that didn’t work. So today you’re getting hard truth, tough love, ass-kicking Emma. And she doesn’t fuck around. So let’s go. Up, up, up!”
I clap my hands in the loudest, most annoying fashion possible and nudge her with my foot until she finally stumbles out of bed. Small victories.
"Yay!" I pump my fist in the air enthusiastically. One of us has to bring the energy, and clearly, it's not going to be Harper. She rolls her eyes at me, which I take as a good sign. She's still got some attitude in her somewhere. "Okay, grumpy gills. First things first. You need a shower. Then, we're going to dinner. My treat."
After getting the rundown of what happened with Levi – namely that they shared a moment and then he left her high and dry. I get why she's upset, and I'll always back her up, but I have a feeling it got too real for Levi and he's trying to protect her. Harper, however, has her mind set on moving on, so that's what I'll help her do.
When we get home, Tracy, aka Harper’s stepmom from hell is sitting on the couch. I give Harper one of those silent BFF looks, asking if she needs my help exorcising the demon. She shakes her head, so I make myself scarce.
Back in my room, my phone rings. I don’t think twice about it, though considering the shit calls I’ve been getting recently, maybe I should. I answer it, thoroughly convinced it’s Roman.
“Hello?” I answer, a little too enthusiastically since I’m trying to play it cool, but I think my cover has already been blown on that front.
“Emma,” the too smooth, predatorial voice says.
My stomach drops. It’s not Roman.
“Craig,” I gulp, trying to calm the rapid beating of my heart.
“Time to come home. You’ve got some debts to work off.”
“I—what?”
“Your strung-out bitch of a mom went and snorted half of my supply and then up and died on me before she could pay me back. It’s your responsibility now, kiddo. And let’s not forget the mess you left behind five years ago. I think that means you owe me double.”
I can’t even form a response to that. Sure, my mom was a junkie who was barely sober enough to give birth to me, but she was still my mom. As much as I wanted to hate her, she was still a part of me. I never planned on seeing her again, but actually hearing that she died, probably all alone, brings an unfamiliar pain deep inside my stomach.
Craig doesn’t give me a chance to recover before plowing ahead with whatever it is he’s going to say.
“You still as pretty as you were when you left? Got that tight little body?”
“What?” I snap back to the conversation at hand, trying to comprehend what he’s implying. “Fuck you.”
"Listen here, you cunt—"
I hang up before he can finish whatever the hell he was going to say. I need to leave Atlanta.
I crumple to the floor right as I hear Tracy slam the front door. There’s no way I can face Harper right now. She doesn’t need my drama and I’m in no position to tell her anything anyway. The less she knows the better.
I muffle my cries into my hand as I let the gravity of my situation set in.
Hours later, I've managed to drag myself the five feet from my floor to my bed. My mind jumps from one horrible memory of Craig to another, peppered with a bone-deep sadness that my mom is dead. I've cried, I've screamed into my pillow, I've tried and failed to figure out a way to avoid the future Craig laid out for me on the phone. I even managed to drift into an uneasy sleep, only to be startled awake by a vivid nightmare.
Now I’m sitting up in bed, drenched in sweat and frustrated with myself for letting him get to me. I’m so fucking exhausted, but I know I won’t get back to sleep tonight. I look at my phone and see it’s two in the morning.
Letting out a deep breath, I get up and change into a fresh pair of clothes. I know this is a bad idea. I know I should just go back to bed and watch YouTube videos until it's time to go to class. But my feet keep moving, following my heart all the way out to my car, down the street, and over to Roman's house.
“What the fuck am I doing here?” I say to myself as I sit in my car in Roman’s driveway. I almost back out and drive back to my apartment, but my car is still the piece of shit it was when Roman first pulled me over, which means it’s loud. And it probably already woke him up. The only thing worse than facing him now would be him catching me pulling out of the driveway. I know he’d just follow me back to my place, and I really don’t want to have to explain Roman to Harper.
I take a deep breath and get out of my car, tentatively making my way to Roman’s front door. As soon as I’m on the front step, the door swings open and Roman pulls me into his arms.
The world and its troubles fall away as he scoops me up in his arms and cradles me into his chest. Roman carries me to the couch and sits down with me in his lap. We don’t say anything. We don’t need to. He knows I just need him.
I fist his shirt and bury my face into his warm chest. His arms tighten around me and he kisses the top of my head before resting his forehead there. I don’t have any more tears to cry. I feel empty and scared and broken, and I know I shouldn’t be seeking comfort from Roman, since I’m going to go on the run soon, but shit. Thinking about leaving Harper and Roman only makes me cling to him more.
He grabs a soft blanket from the back of the couch and pulls it over us, making sure to tuck it around my feet. I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep tonight, but I find myself struggling to keep my heavy eyelids open.
“Get some rest, little one. I’ve got you,” he whispers into my hair. I curl up into a ball and adjust so my head is resting over his heart.
I let myself drift to sleep listening to his steady heartbeat. “You’re safe, dandelion,” whispers over and over again. It’s the last thing I hear before sleep overtakes me.
Chapter 8
Roman
As soon as I heard that piece of crap car with the hole in the muffler turn down my street, I knew it was Emma. I didn’t know why she was coming to me in the middle of the night, but I was up and out of bed, waiting by the door when she pulled into my driveway. It took every ounce of strength not to pull the door open, grab her out of her car, and throw her over my shoulder before taking her inside and demand she tell me what’s wrong.
But I knew I had to be gentle with her. I had to let her come to me.
When I opened the door, I saw a haunted, shell of the woman I love. She looked like she had gone to battle with some serious demons and only barely survived to tell the tale. I gathered her in my arms and held on tight. Somehow, I knew she didn’t need my words, she just needed my strength. I’ll gladly drain all of it for her.
Emma is currently sound asleep on my lap as I watch over her, protecting my little dandelion. I wish she’d let me in, let me see the parts of her that hurt; the parts that still haven’t healed. Tonight feels big though. Something happened, and she came to me for comfort. I’m making progress.
She stirs in my arms, her face twisted in fear. I feel her heart picking up speed and I try to soothe her by rubbing calming circles on her back. Emma shoots up out of my lap, almost head butting me in the process.
Her eyes are wild as she fights her way back to reality.
“You’re safe, dandelion,” I whisper. She jumps and snaps her head towards my voice.
"Roman?" She half whimpers. The sound makes my heart ache for her.
“Yeah, little one. I’m here.”
Her rigid posture softens, and she practically collapses back into my lap.
“Let’s get you to bed, okay?”
"I can't stay," she says in the least convincing, half-asleep voice.
“Please don’t fight me on this, Emma. I’m not letting you drive back to your apartment at this hour.”
She nods against my chest and I lift her tiny body, holding it agai
nst mine as I make my way to the bedroom. I’ve already begun to think of it as ours.
I set her on the edge of the bed and help her take her shoes and jeans off. She removes her shirt while I grab her one of my t-shirts. She's absolutely drowning in it, and despite the circumstances, I take a second to appreciate how sexy she looks in my clothing. I strip down to my boxer briefs and crawl into bed next to her, pulling her close, her back to my front.
I wrap my body around her in an attempt to shield her from every bad thing. After a while, I can tell she’s still tense and wide awake.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask while combing my fingers through her hair.
“I don’t even know where to start. I can’t tell you everything and I don’t want to lie. Not to you.”
Her words spur me on. She wants to talk to me but can’t quite figure out how.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m here.”
Emma rolls over so she’s facing me. Her small hand covers my heart and she closes her eyes like she’s pulling courage from it. I place my hand over hers and kiss her forehead. Finally, she opens her eyes and begins to talk, her voice tentative at first.
“I just felt…” Her eyebrows furrow as she searches for the right words. “I felt like I was untethered. It’s all too much sometimes, you know? And I needed you to bring me back.”
I drink up her words and let them flood through my body.
She needs me.
“I’ll always bring you back, dandelion. Always.” I press my lips to her forehead and she nods.
She’s quiet for so long, I think maybe that’s all I’m going to get out of her. But then I hear a little huff of breath come out of her mouth and she whispers, “My mom died.”
I feel like I can’t breathe, like my throat is closing, clogged with emotion and so many questions. I want to squeeze her against me and never let her go, but I also sense that she needs a little distance right now. I settle for running my thumb over the knuckles of her hand that’s still plastered to my chest.
“Did it happen tonight?” I ask, swallowing around the painful lump in my throat.
“No, I don’t know when it happened. I just found out tonight.”
I try to process her words. She’s clearly not very close with her mom, which I already assumed from some of our earlier conversations. I want to know more, to know everything, but I don’t want her to pull away from me. I sit with her in the silence, hoping she’ll fill it when she feels comfortable.
“She is a junkie. Was a junkie. Honestly, she forgot I was around half the time. She was either relieved or didn’t notice when I spent weeks at a time at Harper’s house.” Emma takes a breath and then adds, “I know she didn’t love me. I never heard from her after I moved all the way out here with Harper when I was sixteen. Not once. And I never thought I’d see her again, so I don’t know why this is hitting me so hard.” All of her words rush from her mouth as she tries to get them out before a sob catches in her throat.
I lose the battle to give her some distance. Rolling over on my back, I pull her with me and get her settled on my chest. Emma curls up and sinks into me as I wrap my arms around her.
“It’s understandable, Emma. She was your mom. No matter her sins, her position in your life holds power. It makes sense that you would feel that loss. I’m so sorry, dandelion.”
I feel her lungs fill with air as her chest expands, letting out a deep breath. One of her legs drapes over my hip and settles in between my legs. She scoots closer to me, pressing every inch of her body against mine. It’s like she’s trying to fuse us together.
“How did you find out? About your mom, I mean.”
She pauses before whispering, “Someone called and told me.”
“Who?”
“I can’t talk about it anymore. Please, please don’t make me.”
“Emma—”
“It’s for your own good,” she snaps. She’s trying to be angry, but I hear the fear beneath her harsh tone. “I just…can’t. Please? I can’t. I won’t. I want to stay with you, but I’ll go back home if it’s just going to be a night of this shit.”
I take a calming breath and quell the urge to launch into interrogation mode.
“Do you trust me, Emma?”
“Roman…” She sounds almost pained. I can tell she’s trying to find the right words. “It’s not about that. I…I want to keep all of my shit away from us. This, you, us… it’s everything, you know? I don’t want to ruin it.
“You won’t ruin anything, little one. Your problems are my problems. Your pain is my pain. I just want you to let me in. Please, baby. Let me see you.”
Emma tries to jerk away from me, but I keep her close, tightening my arms around her.
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore, Roman.” She presses against my chest, trying to push off of me. “Let me go!” She pounds her fists on my chest.
I don't loosen my grip; I just hold her close and whisper soothing things into her ear. She struggles against me, but she doesn’t really want me to let her go. She wants me to fight for her. We need to face this together and she needs to know I don't scare away easily. In fact, there's nothing she could do or say that would scare me away.
“Please! I can’t talk about it! Why do you want to know so bad? Why? Why, Roman?”
I feel her slipping through my fingers, retreating back inside herself to a place of isolation where she can’t hurt anyone or be hurt.
I roll over so she’s underneath me, my hands firmly planted on either side of her head. I need to get through to her.
“Stop spinning out of control,” I murmur. “Come back to me, dandelion. I’m right here. Come back to me.”
She’s trembling from the tidal wave of emotions crashing into her. I can’t tell if she’s more scared of all of this being ripped away from her, or of it all being real. I lean down and kiss her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.
“Come back to me,” I whisper into her hair.
I move so I’m lying on my back, and then pull her up on my chest again, like we were before.
After a few minutes, Emma looks up at me, those blue eyes searing into mine. It's the same look she gave me that day in the back room of the diner. She needs that connection. She needs me. And fuck, I need her too.
She crawls up my body and straddles me before taking my lips in a chaotic kiss. I can taste her longing, her frantic need to be anchored. My dick swells and rises to the occasion. I’ll gladly be the one to anchor her, to bring her back home, back to me.
She pulls down my boxer briefs and releases my aching shaft. I pull off the shirt she’s wearing and suck on her sweet nipples. Her back arches as she raises herself on her knees, causing her tit to pop out of my mouth. Pulling her panties to the side, she impales herself on my cock.
She moans once I’m fully inside of her. Emma rolls her hips and grinds down on me, finding her rhythm and taking her pleasure.
“That’s it, dandelion. Take what you need from me.”
Her hands come down on my bare chest to give her better leverage. I feel her nails dig into my skin as she speeds up, chasing her release.
“Roman, Roman… fuck!”
Emma throws her head back, trembling as her orgasm ripples through her. The feel of her pussy clenching me and gushing all over me has me close to the edge as well. I grab her hips and fuck up into her. It doesn’t take long before I’m right there with her, falling over the edge and swimming in bliss.
She collapses on top of me, limp and completely spent. Her cheek is pressed against my chest. Emma turns her head and presses her lips over my heart before resting her forehead there. It’s like she doesn’t believe I’m real. Like she’s still floating out to sea.
“I’m here, little one. I’ll always bring you back.”
I wrap my arms around Emma and kiss the top of her head. Within minutes, her body grows still as sleep washes over her. I’m still deep inside of her, and there’s no place I’d rather be. I t
ake a deep breath and savor the feeling of her weight on my body, her skin on my skin, her heart beating against mine. I know we’ll have more nights like this, but I don’t mind as long as they end with Emma in my arms.
✽✽✽
I wake up to the smell of what is possibly supposed to be breakfast. Jumping out of bed, I head over to the kitchen and watch as Emma scoops runny eggs onto a plate with blackened toast.
I take a moment to appreciate the goddess with a messy bun and oversized t-shirt standing in front of me. She’s so beautiful with her pouty lips that taste like strawberries and honey, her adorable nose that scrunches up when she’s embarrassed, her cheeks that flush the prettiest shade of pink when she gets turned on, and her fucking gorgeous blue eyes that give me a glimpse into the depths of her soul, whether she knows it or not.
“Hey,” she says when she spots me. “I, uh, I attempted to make some breakfast for you, but, well…as you can see, it’s not exactly a strength of mine.” Emma surveys her disaster of a breakfast and scrunches up her nose.
I walk over and wrap her up in my arms, finally at peace with her warm body against mine. I feel her arms squeeze around my torso, and it’s everything. Placing a quick kiss on top of her head, I step back and look at the damage done.
“Well, the good news is I can use the toast as my new doorstop,” I grin down at her.
“Hey now, no need to be a jerk about it,” she narrows her eyes but then laughs. “I don’t know how I managed to undercook and overcook breakfast. Some might call that a talent.” She puffs out her chest again and I take the opportunity to kiss her.
It was supposed to be short and sweet, but after everything that went down last night, I have this driving urge to claim her, show her she belongs to me, pointy edges, flaws and all. I lift her up onto the counter and slip my hands under her shirt, needing more of her skin on my skin. Emma’s arms go around my neck and she pulls me in deeper, until I’m consumed by her, surrounded by her scent, her touch, her taste.