Chapter 9
Nine
Emory
I pulled to a stop at the curb of a large split-level home, tall windows facing the street above the multi-car garage, a deep brown wood wrapping the whole home.
It was set back from the street in a long driveway with a front lot full of mature trees.
The neighborhood was quiet despite being just a block from a main road that led to the base.
There were kids’ bikes and minivans parked in neighboring driveways, and it felt cozy but unfamiliar.
I gave myself one last once-over in my visor mirror before sliding it shut and turning off my engine.
At least my hair had been salvaged by my friends and their patient fingers, carefully and meticulously untangling the matting that had consumed the entire underside of my head.
I left it in braids, afraid I’d end up needing to chop it off if I left it to get so matted again.
My instinct was to put the car in drive and get the fuck out of here. Run away. Hide. Bury. Choke back all the truths I knew Enoch was going to ask of me.
But this was my last chance.
And it was what I owed him, wasn’t it? I’d put him through hell.
If he really wanted to know me, then he should know all the reasons why he shouldn’t.
Why he should finally move on. Let me go.
So that when I finally got the courage to pull the trigger, I’d leave this world knowing that he wasn’t going to be holding onto my memory anymore.
I didn’t want to be the weak puta I was five years ago when I left those voicemails. I didn’t want to be her anymore. I wasn’t. I was Emory Crawford. Shiloh Magdalena Tellez was dead.
It took every ounce of willpower to shove myself from my seat and walk up the driveway. I double-checked the gold house numbers hanging to the right of the door, nervous I was at the wrong address, before pressing the doorbell.
I heard the ring echo inside, and I peered through the large window just beside the door.
Through the open blinds I could just make out a hallway and a staircase.
My stomach turned and knotted, nausea bubbling up.
I fidgeted with the strap of my crossbody bag, unable to stand still as I impatiently waited for someone to answer the door.
I heard the soft thud of footsteps, saw the shape of him running down the stairs and I righted my body, so I was no longer peering in through the window when the door unlocked.
In a blink we were standing face to face, Enoch’s chest rising and falling rapidly as if he’d sprinted the whole way to the door.
“Hi,” he said breathlessly. He paused and cleared his throat, taking in the street over my shoulder, probably looking for my parked car, before shooting me a smile that made my heart skip a beat.
He stepped to the side, “Come in.”
I tried to give him a smile as I passed by him and into the house.
I immediately noticed the mismatched flooring that abruptly changed at the staircase.
The ground floor was covered in what looked to be grey wood laminate, while the staircase was covered in a rust orange carpet and matched the honey wood banister that covered the height of the walls that led to the second floor.
The honey wood was a frequent accent, from the doors to the baseboards.
Enoch was too perceptive to miss my gaze, and he scrubbed the back of his neck, shutting and locking the front door behind us.
“Yeah, it’s a work in progress. We’ve been focusing on the shared living space upstairs. You can leave your shoes on the rack.”
I nodded, my mind tripping over his use of the word ‘we’.
My eyes immediately flicked to his left hand.
No ring. I slipped off my sneakers, leaving them on an empty space on the shoe rack just beneath the window I had been peeping through moments earlier.
He gestured for me to follow him up the stairs and I ascended behind him, blinking in shock as the upstairs was a complete contrast to the entrance.
“Damn,” I mumbled to myself as I stopped on the landing.
Windows lined three of the four walls of the open plan kitchen and living space.
The orange carpet was gone, light wood flooring in its place.
A large sectional took up the space to the right in front of a stone fireplace.
The kitchen was spread across the left wall, which included a large sliding glass door that led to a deck.
The dark green cabinetry and stone counters added warmth to the space that was teeming with the orange glow of the sun shining through the windows.
Enoch’s chuckle shook me from my stupor, and I climbed the final steps until I was standing in the middle of the open plan living space.
“That orange carpet really doesn’t do this house any favors. I mean,” I tipped my head up, noticing the two skylights where I could see white fluffy clouds in the sky, “this is stunning.”
I looked down to find Enoch beaming at me.
“About two months ago you would have been standing in a sunken living room with wall-to-wall orange carpet.”
“Sheesh. I hope you got a steal on the house for all the work you’re having to put in to modernize it.”
Enoch nodded. “Just don’t be surprised when you see the bathroom down the hall. This is the only space we’ve gotten the time and money to fix up, so far.”
I laughed lightly. There’s that ‘we’ again. “Alright. I’ll keep the bar low for the rest of the house.”
“Um,” Enoch cleared his throat awkwardly, “are you hungry?”
No. Not in the slightest. I was still uncertain if I was going to need to excuse myself to the bathroom to puke.
I shrugged and he licked his lips. “Okay,” he said, absently brushing his hands on his jeans. “You want something to drink?”
“Sure.”
He crossed into the kitchen and opened the fridge.
“We’ve got water or soda.”
“Um…”
He motioned for me to take a look, and I stepped into his personal space to peer into the fridge.
Enoch’s scent sent a shock wave of nostalgia and familiarity over me.
Lavendar laundry soap and earthy like a pine forest. Even though his body had changed from a teenager, some things had stayed the same.
I reached for a Ginger Ale, and he grabbed a Coke Zero. The snap of our cans opening filled the awkward silence. I took a sip of my drink before placing it on the large island. Enoch leaned his hip against the counter, following my movements, and placed his soda down.
He crossed his arms, drawing my attention to the muscles on display in his grey t-shirt. Of-fucking-course he only got more handsome in the last five years.
“So, for starters, I just want to reiterate that you can trust us to keep your identity a secret. I, um, kind of had to go with the story that you were an ex, what with my coworkers witnessing my whole…thing. Is there anything that I should do or not do or…I don’t know,” he laughed to himself, “I don’t know what it means to be in Witness Protection. Um…when are you leaving?”
I shoved my hands into the pocket of my sweatshirt and contemplated my response.
“Uh…it’s still up in the air right now,” I shrugged.
“Lots of…paperwork.” His relief was palpable.
“My name’s Emory Crawford. So, there’s that.
And don’t tell your family. And don’t post anything about me on social media.
Especially no photos. But, um, the thing about us being exes is fine.
I’ll stick to that story too if…well, if anyone asks me about that day again. ”
He nodded, studying me and I couldn’t help shifting my weight uncomfortably.
“Emory. I like it.”
I nodded awkwardly. “Thanks.”
Fuck. I didn’t think things would be this fucking weird. But I guess we are basically strangers.
“So, you live here alone?” It was obvious that he didn’t by the use of ‘we’ and the amount of shoes downstairs, but I was fishing to see if he had a significant other.
“No,” he shook his head with a smirk. “Jae lives on the ground floor.”
“Oh. Cool.” I hoped he couldn’t tell how relieved I was to hear that he wasn’t living with a girlfriend or fiancée. Even if I should have been happy for him either way. “I didn’t realize he was living here. I thought…I thought maybe he was visiting.”
Enoch laughed, breaking the tension with the lightness of it.
“Why don’t we go sit, yeah? Catch up?” he offered with a tilt of his head in the direction of the sofa.
I nodded and took a seat several feet away from him on the sectional. It was a plush beige, with a blanket draped across the back and a couple of pillows that added pops of warm color to the space.
“Did you design everything?” I asked, looking around the room.
“Uh, well I can’t take much credit for the décor and such. That was all Jae and Eden. But I helped with the layout of the kitchen, and I picked the color of the cabinets.”
I swallowed at the mention of her name and pushed back the memories associated with it.
“I really like the green. It’s…cozy.”
Enoch smiled softly and nodded in agreement.
“When did you move to Anchorage?” I asked.
My stomach flipped in anticipation of his response. How long had we been chancing running into each other? How long had it taken before our paths crossed?
“Got here end of March. Jae moved out here shortly after I did, and we bought this place end of April.” He looked relaxed, his body angled toward me with his leg up and his arm draped across the back of the couch.
Three months. He’d been here for three months. All this time, while I’d been fantasizing about a life where we were together, and he was just fifteen minutes across town.
“How about you?” he asked.
“Uh, almost three years ago.”
His eyes bugged out, and he stared at me. “Wow. Huh.” He took a moment to think before speaking again. “How did-how did you end up here? Did you get to choose the city you were placed in?”
“Sort of. My…well, Bradley, the deputy who came to see you, he gave me a few options and I choose this one. I had remembered you speaking about how much you loved Alaska.”