Authors: Karen-Anne Stewart
Gavin hands the phone to Emma, and I watch how she holds herself together, assuring Jess that she’s okay and making her promise not to cut her holiday short by leaving Jason’s grandparent’s house in Florida. Her strength amazes me. I expected her to be a mess, crying and hysterical, and I wouldn’t blame her after the hell she went through tonight if she were. I know the tears may come later, and I plan on being by her side when they do.
As the nurse is going over release papers and advice with Emma, I quietly slip into the hall with Gavin; the rage I fought like hell to hide from Emma is burning through me like an inferno now. “Find out who the dealer is, I want to get to him before the police.”
Gavin glances around the hall, making sure no one could hear me. Right now, I don’t give a damn who hears or sees me beating the shit out of the man who hurt Emma.
“Are you sure you don’t want to let the police handle this?” Gavin hesitates.
“He beat and tried to rape Emma!” Clenching my fist, I dig my fingers into my palm, wondering if I have enough restraint to stop right before I kill the bastard. I won’t care if I don’t, “Find him!”
One sharp nod is his response as he starts down the hall before I stop him. My heart beats against my chest as my mind provides unwanted vile images of what happened to Emma, “Thanks for being there, Gavin.”
“You know, Emma wouldn’t let anyone touch her or get near her after the attack, but she went straight to you the second you walked through the door.” Gavin shrugs his shoulder, looking at me pointedly, “That’s got to mean something.”
It means everything and that fucking terrifies me. Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the wall, trying to get it where it needs to be when I’m with Emma, trying to calm the rage until I am with who deserves it. Once I find control, I go back to her.
“Are you ready?” I ask, watching Emma closely as she winces when she slides off the bed. I’ll hurt him for that, too.
Emma glances around the room, looking lost. Her eyes travel over her clothes and her jaw tightens. “I need to call the landlord to fix the lock, but I don’t have his number.” Her voice softens, “I don’t have anything. The police took my purse for evidence, trying to get prints, I guess.”
“You’re not going back to that place, Emma,” I snap more sharply than intended, not needing her to be stubborn on this.
She doesn’t flinch and there’s no fear in her eyes from my tone, “I can’t go back home.”
Knowing she means South Carolina, I shake my head, “You don’t have to, Emma. Tonight, you can go home with me.”
The blank stare she gives me would be hilarious under different circumstances, but, tonight, it’s heartbreaking. There are a few seconds of silence before she softly shakes her head, “You have to be there for your new restaurant, Breck.”
Closing the gap between her and me, I take her hand in mine, “No. I want to be here, for you.”
“I won’t let you miss your own opening,” she insists. “I’ll have the landlord fix the lock, and I’ll be fine there.”
Not wanting to tell her this tonight, not after all the stress she’s already gone through, I let out a long breath, “It’s not your apartment to go home to anymore, anyway, Em.”
That blank stare finds me again.
Knowing she’s getting ready to let me have it, I decide to get it over with, “I contacted the landlord and told him that you won’t be returning.”
“You did what?” she asks softly, her confusion morphing into an emotion that I can’t quite read yet, but I’m betting it’s anger.
“I told you that you needed to move and, after tonight, there’s no way you’re going back to that place.”
“I don’t have a home?” Her voice is barely audible.
“I know the owner of the new apartments just a few blocks from Shallonelles; I called him tonight and there’s one reserved for you. It will be ready in a week. Until then, you can stay at the Dur Acier manager house.”
“I’m not staying at your grandfather’s place. That’s yours and his home, not mine.”
“He won’t mind. It’s safe and it’s just for a few days,” I offer a bit stronger.
A shot of anger flashes in her eyes before it’s gone just as quickly as it came. A soft laugh tumbles from her lips before she presses her hand against her mouth, biting back the tears brimming in her eyes. She struggles to compose herself, seeming unsure of what to feel or what she
should
feel right now.
“I came here to make it on my own, Breck. You had no right to cancel my lease, which also means I won’t get my deposit back. I know you mean well, but I need to take care of things on my own, and I can’t stay at your grandfather’s. Thank you for the offer, but I just can’t,” Emma states, her voice free of any emotion.
“You’ve been through enough tonight. Just go there with me now, and we’ll work it all out tomorrow,” I coax, holding my hand out to her.
“Go back to New York, Breck.” Emma’s eyes fill with despair as she walks out the door.
Standing in the middle of the hospital room, I’m left dumbfounded by her reaction. Maybe she’s still in a state of shock? Normally, she would put me in my place. We would argue and fight, then we would be over it, going back to being best friends again. I’m at a loss of how to respond. She’s halfway down the hall before I catch up with her.
“Come home with me, Emma.”
“No. I can’t.”
“You can,” I insist. She doesn’t even look at me as I continue to plead with her to be reasonable, but she won’t give in. “Where do you plan on going then, Emma? You don’t have any money and your car is at the apartment, which isn’t even yours now.”
“I’m sure I can talk to the landlord,” she replies flatly.
“Emma, stop.” Taking her arm, I turn her towards me, “What is going on right now?”
Her eyes flood with tears again and she fights so hard to keep them from falling, but a few slide down her cheeks, twisting my gut and heart. I brush the tears away with my thumb, and she leans her cheek against the palm of my hand, squeezing her eyes shut as another tear slowly slides down her bruised cheek, dripping onto my hand.
“Finish what you were going to say,” she whispers, her eyes opening, the pain in them setting my soul on fire.
“What do you mean? I want you to come home with me tonight and we’ll work arrangements out tomorrow,” I respond, confused.
“No. Finish telling me what you were going to say on the phone, Breck,” her voice trembles with fear, but her eyes beg me to tell her the truth.
Dropping my hand, I don’t know if I have enough courage to tell her face to face. It took all my strength to make that call earlier. Looking at her now, she’s too emotional, too upset, to have to process anything new right now. “It was nothing,” I lie.
The pain darkens her entire face, and I’m left even more confused than before.
“Okay, I’ll go home with you tonight,” she relents. Emma’s chin drops close to her chest again as she heads towards the door.
God, I want to wrap her in my arms and swear that I won’t let anyone hurt her ever again. It’s nearly impossible to control the half of me that wants to kill the bastard, beat him into a pulp before ripping him into bloody pieces, while the other half of me wants to hold Emma, kiss her, make love to her, until she forgets about the pain, about tonight.
She hesitates at the door, her hand gently touching her swollen eye and bruised cheek. Placing my arm around her shoulder, I pull her close to me, sheltering her in my arms as I lead her outside. She keeps her head low until we are safely in the cab. The drive to the house is filled with torturing silence.
“I’m going to call Prayton and have him bring you some clothes and personal items in the morning, is there anything in particular that you need?” I ask once I usher her inside the house.
Shaking her head, she turns away from me.
“Hey, Emma, please talk to me.” Sliding my hands down her arms, I pull her back against my chest, sweeping her hair off her shoulder and resting my chin against her neck.
“Can I take a shower?”
“Of course.” Worriedly watching her, I slip her hand in mine and lead her into my room.
Emma disappears into the bathroom as I sink onto the bed, staring after her. I don’t know what to do to help her and that infuriates me. I fix things, that’s what I do. If Jess or Gavin have a problem, I fix it, make it go away, or do my damndest trying. With Emma, I feel useless and that cripples me. It seems like yesterday that she was here, in my shower, the first time. Now, it’s almost two months later, and I still don’t know what to do with her or with how she makes me feel. All I know right now is that I’m going to find who hurt her and make him pay.
Sighing, I grab a pair of boxers and a t-shirt for Emma to slip into and find an unused toothbrush and the least manly scented deodorant I can find. The shower stops, and I call through the door, letting her know I’ve left the items on the dresser outside.
“Wait,” she calls back.
The door opens, and Emma steps in front of me, her long chestnut hair falling in wet curls around her face. She’s holding the towel tightly in one hand as she musters up the courage to look at me. Her bottom lip is split and her right cheek and eye are purple and blue, swollen painfully. Without thinking, I trace my thumb softly against her lips and slide the back of my fingers against her cheek.
Emma glances at the bed, then slowly licks her lips. Her eyes are dark, conflicted, as they hold me captive, “Remember what you said about the next time we sleep in the same bed?”
“Is that why you didn’t want to come home with me tonight? I may be an asshole, but I would never try anything with you after what happened to you tonight, Emma.” My chest constricts at how she doesn’t trust me enough to realize that.
“I know,” she whispers, gently reassuring her trust in me, “but, what if I want you to?”
Her ability to shock me tonight is astounding. I search her face as her fingers loosen their grip on the white cotton towel. My pulse quickens and the beast in me wants her to continue, but my decency wins and I place my fingers over hers, “Emma, you’ve been through so much tonight; you’re just confused right now.”
“I’m not confused. I know exactly what I’m doing,” she breathes, dropping the towel to the floor.
I feel like shit letting my gaze drop, but I can’t stop myself. My eyes travel down her long, slender neck to her tan, smooth shoulders before slipping lower to her firm, perky breasts that are perfectly sized for my touch. Her soft, slender waist gently curves into hips that I want to dig my fingers into as I finally claim her, making her mine. My erection hardens, swelling against my jeans, and I ache to undo the zipper and take her hand, running her fingers over the length of me. When I see the sweet v of chestnut curls covering what she has kept pure, I cock painfully harder, needing to bury myself deep inside where no one has ever touched.
Self-loathing and rage overwhelm me when my gaze falls on her thighs. Dark bruises mar her beautiful skin. The entire inside and front of her upper left thigh is marked, vividly showing the viciousness of how close she came to losing so much more than just her virtue. I can see where his fingers were, the dark purple and blue bruises showing his intent like a map of malicious finger prints. Sinking to my knees, I caress her skin, my lips carefully brushing against every defacing mark on her thigh. Emma’s body quivers above me. She braces herself by gripping my shoulders, her long, slim fingers digging into my skin.
My mouth moves to the marks on her wrists, my lips gently kissing every damaged inch of her body, stopping at the corner of her mouth; her lip is the only marred part of her that I can’t touch. I want to, God, how I want to, but I can’t.
Emma’s eyes are closed, her body trembling when I let her go. Opening her eyes, she searches me before taking a step closer. I back away, needing distance from her so I can do what’s right. My treacherous body is screaming for me to take her, love her tonight like she deserves to be loved, but she’s not ready.
“Why did you stop?”
Unable to help myself, I pull her naked body flush to me, brushing my thumb against her cheek. “The important question is, why do you want this?”
Her cheeks tint and she tries to look down, but I gently grasp her chin, making her face me. “I know it’s crazy to want this after what happened to me. It’s wrong,” she chokes, swallowing hard, “but I don’t want the image of what he did to me in my head. I need to rid my mind of his scent, of his touch, from the way he hurt me. I don’t want to be afraid to make love and I’m scared that if I don’t do this now, the fear will never go away.”
“Oh, Emma, no, baby, it’s not wrong or crazy,” I assure her. I want to take away her fear, to strip any negative, ugly image in her head of making love, but she’s too vulnerable to make this decision tonight. Besides, I’ve never made love; all I’ve ever done with someone is fuck, and I’m not sure I know how to give her what she needs, even though I would die trying tonight if I thought she was ready. “Give it a little time, Emma. If you still feel the same, I will do whatever you ask of me, but I can’t, not tonight. Everything is still too raw for you.”