Chapter 13 #3
“When I was sixteen…” This time the sob climbed free, and he rested his head on mine, rubbing my arms. “I was sleeping, and the sound of my door creaking woke me up. I pretended to be asleep, scrunching my eyes and praying he would go away. But he didn’t.
He came in and climbed on top of me.” Emerson’s hold grew tighter, and I could sense his muscles become taut.
“I fought him, scratching and hitting, as he told me I had to satisfy him because my mother had passed out.” My stomach churned violently.
“I kicked him in the balls and ran. But he caught me and beat me before he threw me into the basement, telling me I could come out when I was ready to fuck him.” I let out a raw laugh, remembering how sick and twisted he had been.
“He left me in there day after day. My mother never came for me. School never looked because we had moved so many times to avoid any suspicion that they hadn’t bothered to enroll me in the new school.
There were no neighbors, and I had no friends.
By the fourth day, my knuckles were bloody from pounding on the door, most of my nails had ripped from scratching at the wood, I was hungry and thirsty.
Delirious and almost catatonic. My uncle found me that night.
I had been writing to him for years behind my mother’s back after finding out she had a younger brother.
I lied in every letter, telling him we were the perfect family, but when my stepfather beat my mother so badly that she’d been bed bound for days, I finally wrote him with the truth and he came for me. ”
Salty air invaded my lungs with the deep inhale I took. “He saved me. Took me to the hospital, then to Bridgeville. My mother had been dead for two days. She overdosed, but I sometimes wonder if she didn’t take her own life. I’ll never know.”
“And your stepfather?” Emerson’s voice was one I recognized from the first night I met him. The ruthless crime boss.
“Dead. I didn’t know how until I found out what my uncle did for a living.”
The tension lifted slightly from his muscles.
“Den took me in, hired tutors to help me finish high school. Got me in psychotherapy and paid for college. Although now that I know he works for your brother, I suspect Greyson may have had a hand in paying for those things.”
“Sounds like the asshole did.”
I peered back at him, meeting those gorgeous cerulean eyes tinged with emotion.
“So that’s why you don’t like my basement? I thought it was all the things I do to my enemies down there.”
“Nope,” I said, feeling somehow lighter than I ever had.
“For some unexplainable reason, that doesn’t bother me.
It’s the basement itself. I will never own a house with a basement.
” A shiver ran through me. “So now you know why I need the meds and why I still dream of being locked in that basement every night, no matter how many years have passed.”
“I thought maybe it was me. You know, killer, crime boss, kidnapper?”
Staring at him, I broke into a grin, and my mood lifted completely. “Did you just make a joke, Mr. Tides?”
He grimaced. “Don’t call me that. My brother is the formal one, not me.” His bright orbs searched mine. “Thank you for telling me.”
I twisted around in his arms, and he backed up a step like the unexpected closeness worried him. His hands fell away, and I instantly missed the protective warmth they had provided.
“Don’t go telling anyone my secrets,” I teased. “I might have to kill you.”
A laugh and a lopsided grin that erased all the trauma I’d drudged up left my lower body with an annoying flock of butterflies hurling through it.
“You may know how to defend yourself, but I wouldn’t go that far.”
My hands went to my hips. “You doubt my abilities?”
“Not at all. I doubt you could kill someone.” His grin faltered. “It takes a lot out of you, and I’d hate to see something like that taint you.”
Not thinking, I reached up and traced my fingers over his jawline. “You’re not as tainted as you think.”
He seemed taken aback before he removed my hand and said, “Take your medication, Ava.”
“Are you still sending me back to my room or are you going to tell me why you wanted me to wear shorts today? Was it just to see my pretty legs?”
“Both,” he said.
“Both? But I said three things, so which two?” I was pushing him, but he didn't seem to mind and the further we were from my confession, the better.
He shook his head. “There was a reason I wanted you to wear shorts and yes, I wanted to see your pretty legs, even though that wasn’t the reason.”
“Aww, you think my legs are pretty. I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me since you called me wildcat.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he muttered, “What the hell did I get myself into?”
I took two of my pills, chasing them with a shot of coffee.
“Only two?” he asked.
“Yup. Anxiety and nightmares. The other is for panic attacks, but since I already had one of the damned things, I don’t need it now.” Out of habit, I looked at my arm, but my watch wasn’t there. “Can you set a timer for me, so I take my next one at two? I don’t have my watch or my phone.”
He pulled his phone out without hesitation. After setting the alarm, he motioned toward the stairs with his head. “Come on. I have something for you.”
“More? It’s hard to top medication, Emerson.”
He threw a look over his shoulder, and I grinned.
“So it’s the little things that make you happy?” he said as I followed him.
“Definitely.” Growing up with nothing left me with an appreciation for the smaller joys in life.
My uncle’s life was extravagant compared to mine, and it had made me uncomfortable.
That was the reason I’d gone to college out of the province and roamed aimlessly for so many years before deciding to move back to Bridgeville.
“You know your bedroom is the size of my entire apartment, right?”
He pushed in a code at the end of the deck, where the stairs led down to the shore.
I took note of the man making rounds at the cliff-side off the left of the deck and turned my head to the right to see another one in the distance.
I’d been watching them out my window, memorizing the pattern of their passes like my uncle had taught me.
An odd thing for him to teach me at the time, but now I understood he was taking precautions.
I was a liability in his line of work unless I knew how to survive.
And after what I had been through, he wanted me to have the skills to fight back harder if there was ever a next time.
A lot of good it had done me in this situation, but as Emerson turned and gestured for me to go down the stairs, a mischievous gleam to his eyes, I thought maybe that had been a blessing.