Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Emilia
There’s one thing I enjoy about my job, and it only happens once in a blue moon.
Getting chosen to take a basket of fresh produce to City Hall for a ‘quality check.’
It’s more like an excuse for Enforcers and State officials to gorge themselves on our hard labour, but still, I’ll take it over digging on my hands and knees any day.
So much so, that having been chosen today, I’m practically skipping as I return home an hour earlier than usual. Humming to a long-forgotten Lana Del Rey song, I grab a packet of biscuits from the kitchen and tear them open, shoving one in my mouth, crumbs spilling all over the floor.
A knock on the door slams into my ears louder than a gunshot.
The biscuit catches in my throat and I cough, eyes watering, hand flying to my mouth as my heart jerks into my throat.
Panic floods me.
My fingers tremble as I hastily swipe at the crumbs on the counter. I edge towards the door, heart pounding so hard I hear it in my ears.
“Yes?” I call, voice cracking despite my best effort to stay strong.
“Mils?” The deep, familiar voice cuts through the door, calm, warm, and so unmistakably him. My knees nearly give out. I press a palm to my chest and pull the door open.
“Rayden,” I breathe out, lips pulling into a smile before I can stop it.
He grins a familiar, lopsided, troublemaking smile that used to get him out of anything.
“Are you sure you should be talking to me?” I tease, cocking a brow. “What if Nina’s watching?”
He rolls his eyes and runs a hand through his hair, like he always does when he’s pretending not to care. “No one is going to keep me from you,” he says lightly, grin widening.
I fight back a laugh. “Rayden—”
“Shit, Mils!” he exclaims, voice suddenly sharp with shock. He steps closer, eyes narrowing on my cheek. “What happened to your face?”
The easygoing air fizzles out, and I flinch under his stare, fingers flying to the scabs across my cheek.
“Oh,” I murmur, forcing a small smile. “It’s nothing. I… spent the night in The Cell.”
Rayden’s face pales. For a second, he looks like he’s been punched. “You what? Why?”
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug, but the words come out thin and fragile.
“Doesn’t matter?” His voice cracks, rising before he swallows, glancing down the street and lowering his voice. “Mils, they took you. They…” He gestures at my cheek, eyes brimming with fury. “Hurt you.” His jaw tightens, nostrils flaring as he drags a hand down his face. “Fuck.”
I shift my weight, tearing my eyes away. “Yeah.”
“But why would they—”
“I broke one of the rules,” I cut in quickly, voice barely more than a whisper. The lie settles heavy between us, but he seems to buy it.
His shoulders drop and he exhales before asking, “Can I come in?”
For a heartbeat, everything in me screams no. It’s no doubt reckless of me to even consider it. Stupid. Something a liability would do.
But Zac has his friends. And I have mine.
Rayden’s eyes are as warm as I remember them being at fourteen—the same ones that sucked me in and made me lose all and any common sense. The secondary school teenager that Zac accuses me of being claws her way to the surface.
With a barely-there nod, I step aside. Rayden brushes past, his shoulder grazing mine. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black joggers, gaze flicking over the small living room.
“This is nice,” he says.
I close the door and fold my arms across my chest. “Isn’t it the same as yours?”
“I… Well, yeah. But Nina’s filled ours with everything from her childhood that was spared in the war. Stuffed animals, a couple of Barbies, a serious collection of china dolls,” he says, grimacing.
“Bet it makes the place… cosy?” I try, giving him a weak smile.
He smirks. “It makes it fucking creepy.”
I arch a brow, stepping past to scoop my book off the floor and toss it onto the armchair.
“I love a cuddly teddy. Or a plushy Donald Duck,” he reasons. “But try going for a piss in the middle of the night and having a porcelain doll staring at your dick.”
I smirk. “They’re in the bathroom?”
“They’re. Fucking. Everywhere,” he says, unamused. A laugh bursts out of me, more real than anything I’ve felt all week.
“I guess that answers my question about how married life is treating you,” I say.
He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Can’t say I understand why they paired me with Nina.”
“You and me both,” I murmur as I lean back against the mantle. “With Zac, I mean.”
My eyes drop to the cream carpet—to the faint whiskey stain beneath Rayden’s Converse. The stain he left behind.
My husband.
The man who looks at me like I’m a burden he can’t wait to be rid of. The feeling’s mutual, though that doesn’t make it any easier to live with.
“I miss you,” Rayden says quietly.
My gaze snaps up, startled by the words and the raw honesty in his sparkling green eyes. I always thought that the comfort he brings me would change once we were married to other people.
It hasn’t.
“Me too,” I admit. “It was so simple… so easy before The Matching.”
“It was.”
“I miss being able to do what we wanted,” I say, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Even if it wasn’t… strictly allowed.”
“Fuck, Mils.” Ray’s voice drops as he steps closer. His hands lift hesitantly before settling on my cheeks, thumbs ghosting over the bruised skin. “I wish we could still be what we were. But… it’s too risky now,” he says softly. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“I know,” I murmur, giving him a half smile, even as my chest aches. For a moment, I let myself get lost in it; his lazy smile, his twinkling eyes, the warmth of his fingers…
With Ray, it always feels like stepping back into another life.
One where the world wasn’t broken. Where being his number one girl was my only concern.
Where I’d chase him around the park to steal a lick of blueberry ice cream.
Where I’d climb down the gutter outside my window, just to sneak into the city with him.
The memories weigh heavy on my scarred ribs.
“Maybe, one day,” he whispers, thick with hope he shouldn’t have. “One day, things might be different.”
“Maybe,” I utter, though we both know it’s a lie.
He curses under his breath and leans forward, resting his forehead against mine. His scent seeps into me—all oak and spice—steady and familiar, and for a heartbeat, I feel like a teenager again.
“Please,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “Just… give me a minute, Mils. Just one moment. To soak you in.” He swallows hard. “One last time.”
At those words, something inside melts into oblivion. My arms lift of their own accord, coiling around his waist and gripping tight. His chest rises against mine.
“I really did believe it would be you,” he whispers, so quietly I almost miss it.
My throat tightens. I manage a small, sad smile. “Nina could make you happy, Ray.”
“Did you even hear what I said about the dolls?”
A soft, weak chuckle escapes me. I press my forehead to his again, closing my eyes.
“Give her a chance. A real one.”
He’s silent for two heartbeats, maybe three. I can practically feel the battle he’s fighting inside. Finally, he says, “Fine. You too, though. With Zac.”
I grimace. “Ray—”
“Mils!”
“What? He’s awful—”
“Mils.”
“Fine, fine!” I sigh. “I will.” I won’t.
His hand finds the back of my neck, warm and steady. “No matter what,” he says softly, “I’m always here for you. As a friend.”
I swallow, chest tightening. “Same,” I whisper.
A sudden slam of the front door bursting inward has us springing apart. My heart lurches, eyes snapping towards the sound.
Shit.
“Thanks for the welcome home party, wife.”