by Rebel Hart
With no defense and looking humiliated after being put in his place, he directs his rage back toward Malcolm. “Leave!” he fumes.
I ignore him and follow along outside, slamming the door shut behind me. “I’m so sorry, Malcolm. I should have listened to you. I had no idea he’d react that way.”
He shakes his head and pulls his lips to the side, looking at me with wide eyes. I know he’s judging me now more than ever. Emmett is looming in the window, tearing through the blinds to see us.
“Are you sure you don’t want a ride?” he offers again, with a pleading expression.
“No. It’s okay.” I turn around to see the impatience growing on Emmett’s face as he stares out at us. “Emmett will take me home. I’m sorry again.”
He finally accepts my decision and opens his car door. “Take care of yourself, Ophelia,” he calls out in a pitying tone as he gets in. “Call me if you need anything.”
The room door flies open again as Emmett comes hurtling out. “She doesn’t need anything from you!” he screams and kicks towards the car as it speeds away.
I grab him by the arm and pull him back inside. “What the fuck is wrong with you! I can’t believe you lost your shit like that! I’m so embarrassed. He was just trying to help!”
He braces himself against the same countertop where we once made love, and I wish more than anything this was one of those happy times, though I have to remind myself that didn’t happen for good reasons. I only came here that night to run from more of our problems, and while I don’t regret it, I hate how complicated everything constantly is.
I sneak over to put my phone on Emmett’s charger, thinking if I missed so many of his calls, I must have missed some from my mom, too. I know it’s getting late.
I see his nostrils flaring as he breathes heavily, trying to regain control. I almost wish I had just left with Malcolm, but I can’t let him off the hook so easily. I settle in for what I expect to be a long night, ending in another missed curfew—something my parents and I will both have to get used to as long as Emmett is around.
Chapter Fifteen
BOOK 2
The room is quiet, with nothing but the sounds of Emmett’s labored breathing and muffled expletives. I am left waiting to see how bad the rest of his explosion will be.
I sit silently and stare into the dark corners of the room, waiting to see what he’ll do next. I have never been a big drinker, even at parties back home, but right now I would give anything for a drink. Isn’t this exactly why people drink?
What am I doing here? Why am I putting up with this? I only wanted to help. And he’s acting like a crazy person, pushing away one of the only people who has been nice to me lately—all because of some old high school drama—a person who’s been nicer to me than he has. I should have gotten into that car with Malcolm and ridden away from all of this without ever looking back.
Something has to end it. It can’t last forever. Nothing does. Especially not high school loves, as hard of a pill as that is to swallow.
“Should we go to the mall?” I propose. “See if there is anything there? Maybe someone working there saw Bernadette that last day before she disappeared.”
“Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “You don’t honestly believe anything Malcolm showed you, do you? Look at this shit he printed off. It’s just a bunch of encrypted files! It could say anything!”
“Why would he lie like that?” I protest, stomping my foot. “I saw all of their phone numbers. I saw the timestamps. I can’t believe you think he’d go so far as to make all of that up.”
“I can’t believe you don’t see how he would make all of that up!” Emmett fires back, his voice growling with rage. “I told you I didn’t want you around him, and I meant it! He’s playing you. Convincing you that he’s some great guy…Well, he’s not. And I don’t want you anywhere near him.”
“Well, it still wouldn’t hurt to try and go to the mall!” I continue. “What other options do we have? Emmett, each day your sister is gone…it just seems less likely that she’ll ever come back. And I haven’t wanted to say anything, but you know time is running out. We don’t have time to be picky about what leads we follow. Unless you want to call the police.”
“I just don’t want you hanging around with Malcolm,” he fumes finally, trying his best to keep his voice even and calm but failing miserably.
Some moments feel so much heavier than others. Emmett looks sabotaged and exhausted, cradling his head in hands, rocking back and forth as he tries so hard to cling to any sense of self-control. We both feel vulnerable and ashamed. The curls of his hair twist up around the light like winding tree roots, and I want to run to him. Hold him and tell him everything will be okay, the way I always do. He looks over to me expectantly, as if he’s wondering why I’m not already by his side. He expects it now.
“I know, but I was just trying to put an end to all of this. I wanted to help you,” I explain urgently. “I thought if we could just find out what happened to Bernadette…all of this shit with Vivian would be put to an end, and you and I could finally have a chance to see what this relationship can be. Without all of this other stuff always getting in the way.”
“I don’t trust him,” he replies, his voice softening some. “Just promise me you’ll stay away from him now.”
“I’m sorry, Emmett.” I slowly move towards him, being careful to make sure he’s not going to lash out again. I don’t even know why I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be. I didn’t do anything wrong. And everything I did was all for him. But I think he knows that. This is just another one of his fits of rage that he’s trying his best to control and just can’t.
I run my eyes along the edges of his face and the curls of his hair, glowing amber against the lamplight in the corner. His eyes are closed as he clings to some semblance of control. I feel the same way now that I did when he first found me after Bernadette went missing. I want to hold him and help him find his way. I want to make everything better for him. But I have been trying to do that for almost two weeks now, and am no closer to accomplishing it.
Emmett is still just as lost. The only thing that’s changed is that now, I am lost with him. My need to take him into my arms quickly changes. Suddenly, I feel afraid and alone, and I am the one who needs to be held.
“I need to be close to you,” I rasp across the room, not daring to go any closer until he shows me that it’s okay.
His darkened eyes find me standing there, as if he has been in some far-off distant place. I see his face drop, realizing how he abandons me when he has his freakouts. He deals with his fears the only way he knows how, and leaves me all alone with mine.
The longer we stand there and stare, the more the electricity between us builds in the room. But it’s not the intense primal shock I am used to. It’s a tired, but thriving need. We need so much more than each other’s bodies. We need to devour each other—mind, body, and soul. We can see it in each other’s eyes.
I walk quickly to erase the distance between us, my lips parting with a slack expression. I reach out to brush against his lips, making steady eye contact with his as I lean forward. He smiles and releases an appreciative sigh, taking my hand and spreading my palm across his heart. I reach up with my other hand and skim my fingers along his jawline. He closes his eyes, savoring my touch. If only we could stay like this. I wish there was a pause button. I want to stop time and every other thing that keeps coming between us.
He lifts me up to wrap my legs around his hips, but we don’t kiss. He keeps me suspended in the air, looking down into his eyes. I swear I can see straight into his soul, a place that has scared me in the past because I was afraid that I would find it to be empty. But right now, it looks alive and it’s burning for me. Right here in this moment, it feels ridiculous to have ever been worried about Vivian. She can’t touch what we have.
I finally lower my lips to his and we dive deep into each other, running our velvet tongues together. Melting into each other’s mouths,
seamlessly becoming one. At some point he lowers me to the bed, but I can’t say exactly when. Time is completely lost. All I can feel is his skin and his warm tongue. His lips moving over every inch of my body as I claw into him, telling him with my hands that I need more—always more.
The room is brown and yellow, lighting the silhouettes of our bodies up like fire as he moves over me. I’m not even aware of the exact moment he slides inside of me. I’m in a trance, and it feels like he could have always been there. Maybe he never left.
For what seems like hours, we roll around in the sheets. Soft and slow, but with desperation. I take him in as deeply as I can, losing myself in his eyes and his body. Our breathing and the sensations melt together, building leisurely. We don’t even care about getting off—then it’s over, and we have to face everything that waits for us outside of this room. So, we put it off, wanting to steal away every possible second that we can.
Normally there is a point when we’re making love when I close my eyes and lose myself in nothing but the sensation of our bodies. But this time, we both make a point of keeping our eyes wide open. It’s as if we’re deciding not to hide anymore. To look each other straight on and face everything that exists between us without fear. The intensity of it takes my breath away, and I have never felt so connected with another human being before. His fingers interlace with mine and I could swear our veins are flowing together, sharing the same blood. Our chests are flattened against one another, our hearts beating in time, the rise and fall of our breaths loud and matching perfectly.
We say each other’s names into the darkness like animals, calling each other closer. We can never get close enough. I swear I can feel inside of him as I claw into his skin—the heat of his skin is the heat of his organs, his veins, his soul. All pulsing just for me, in tune with my own.
I feel like I’m drowning in him, but I’ve lost all desire to come back up for air. I’m losing myself and don’t even care. This goes against everything I always believed about myself. I thought running came above all else, aside from family. But didn’t I tell Emmett we were family? Does that somehow excuse my obsessive love for him? I thought when he showed me some hope that he could become a decent person that things would level out between us. That I would feel more in control. But it seems to have only made things worse. His reciprocity has only fanned the flames, and they’re devouring me faster than I can do anything about it. Not that I would if I thought that I could.
Eventually we can’t stand it anymore, and his pace quickens. It’s just enough to quickly push me to the edge, and I feel him moving there right along with me. Unexpectedly and all at once, we find ourselves digging into each other’s skin as our bodies pulse together in perfectly-blended bliss.
We’re speechless and fighting sleep by the time our orgasms are over. I don’t want to move or say anything. I am out of it, still stuck in a lingering sex haze, but I think he is still inside of me as he lays on top of me. I want to stay like this forever—where it’s just the two of us with nothing from the outside threatening to come in between. It feels like this is how we are meant to be. We’re both perfect when it’s like this.
Emmett and I are as close as any two people can be, bonded by tragedy, hope, and loss. He clings to the hope that he can run his father’s business differently. That he can do things right and stop this town from being so fucked up. I cling to the hope that he can do all of those things and not crack under the pressure. I am scared of seeing him become the same kind of man his father was. Scared that there is no other outcome for people like him in Jameson.
If I could just get over this jealousy towards Vivian, I could be there for Emmett in the way that he needs me to be. But I'm afraid that letting go of my jealousy is a mistake. Then, maybe I will miss it when he begins slipping from my fingers. I don't want to be surprised. I want to see that hurt coming from a mile away. I don't think I could handle it if it snuck up on me. If I just walked into school one day to see the two of them back together, with me being the last one to know. I need to let go of it for Emmett's sake, but I cling to it for my own protection.
“I don’t want to be safe with you, Ophelia,” he explains desperately. “Maybe that’s where we keep going wrong. You keep trying to make this small and comfortable, and it’s not. We’re too much for that.”
The sound of Emmett’s voice is smooth and deep like honey, and it has the magical ability to instantly shake me to my core. No matter what I think I have my mind made up about, it flies out the window the moment he says a word. I’ll try to hold strong to whatever I’ve decided, but his voice carries on like a hammer to glass, and I always inevitably break. All of the feelings I have for him come flooding out in a big, overwhelming gush, swallowing us both whole. The release of it takes my breath away every time, and he is always left looking to me for more.
“You get off on it when things are fucked up between us,” I answer decidedly.
“No, we feel too much for it to be safe,” he shoots back. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“So, what do we do?” I ask, my voice drenched in fear.
“We hold on as tight as we can and never let each other go,” he says softly. “Hold onto each other for the ride.”
“Looks like I held on to you too tight,” I snicker against his arm, my finger trailing circles around the scratch marks running down the sides of his body.
“Good,” he says boldly. “I want to be branded by you. You can mark me up as much as you want.”
“I’ve had my fair share of marks from you, too,” I note resentfully, cringing at the slip.
“And you’ll never let me forget it.” He sighs.
“Probably not,” I reply truthfully. “I don’t know that it’s fair for either of us to forget.”
“Then how can you be with me?” he asks. “If you still think about it all so much.”
“That’s what I keep asking myself.” I shake my head, looking hopelessly to the ceiling above. “Maybe it’s not so bad for me to remember. Doesn’t it say more about how I feel about you? That I’ve been able to move past it and see you for who you are now?”
“But have you moved past it?” he asks, as if he already knows the answer.
I don’t want to tell him the truth. That I am always secretly waiting for that side of him to return. It has, though. I’ve seen it. He hasn’t been perfect. I just don’t know which side to believe—if the bad will always resurface, or if eventually, he can learn to move past it.
Emmett looks at me desperately, as if our lives are hanging on this moment as he moves inside of me again. He trembles against my body in breathless moans. I keep my hands planted on either side of his face, guiding him back and forth, letting him know that I am right here with him, feeling everything he is feeling.
“You’re all I’ve ever wanted,” he mouths to me.
I swallow hard from the pressure. I wanted to be the center of Emmett’s world. Part of me has always secretly wanted that, even if only as a way to escape his tormenting. Now I am, and I don’t know if I can bear it. The weight of it crashes down on me, and I feel like I might suffocate beneath it. But he sweeps my lips back into his, and I am lost again, unable to care about anything but him. That’s how quickly he makes me forget that I have a choice, and I relish in the freedom of it. His prison feels like freedom. I know it’s wrong and messed up, but I can’t feel any other way. We belong to each other.
“I want to do everything to you, Ophelia,” he murmurs in the darkness. “I don’t think I could ever get bored of your body. I want to do everything there is to do to it…and once I’ve done it all, I’ll start over and do it all a second time.”
I shiver against his words, growing wet all over again. “That could take quite some time,” I warn him jokingly.
“Planning on going somewhere?” he questions, raising his brows at me.
I hesitate in my reply, hating to kill the mood. “Well…Emmett…there’s college and everything,” I remind him. “I
mean, who knows what will happen. I want to be with you, but…we don’t know what the future holds. I don’t want us to make promises we can’t keep.”
“Go to college near Jameson,” he suggests cavalierly. “Or go wherever. I’ll fly to come see you.”
I laugh out loud at how easy he makes it all sound. “And what about you?” I ask. “Do Jamesons not have to attend college?”
“Not really.” He shakes his head. “Not when we take over things this young. My advisors will hire private tutors from top institutions—enough to satisfy the requirements for a degree. Anything from an ivy league school that can be framed and hung on the wall above my desk for business meetings. That’s all I really need.”
“What?” I gape. “Are you serious?” He shrugs and looks away. “That’s so fucked up. Isn’t that basically just buying a degree?”
“Basically,” he says quietly. “But that’s how we’ve always done it.”
“There are a lot of things your family has always done that you were hoping to change,” I remind him. “What about what you want? Was there anything you ever wanted to go to college for? Even if it was just to learn a new skill or enter a new field?”
“Never had time to think about it.” He shakes his head, pursing his lips. “There was no point. I always knew that wasn’t going to be an option for me. If my dad was still around, I would have gone off to some ivy league campus, but I basically would have just been fucking around until he was ready to retire.”
I try not to think about how deeply his entitlement goes, overriding something as basic and fundamental as a college education. But for some reason, my brain is still stuck on the fact that he is planning our future. He intends on staying with me enough that he is talking about flying out to wherever I am if I go to college somewhere else. I can’t deny the giddiness rising in my chest at the thought of it.