Chapter 48
GEMMA
Aside from a few adjustments to the bodice—nothing a few strategically placed safety pins couldn’t fix—my dress fit Emily perfectly.
While I curled her hair and did her make-up, I told her about what happened with Riggs last night.
Mostly to keep her distracted because she’s so nervous she’s about to jump out of her own skin but also because I needed to talk about it.
There was no judgment. No admonishment, which tells me things with Cade had progressed much further before they ended than she let on.
“No.” I shake my head with a quick frown. “I don’t think so.”
“Seriously?” Emily frowns back while she straightens and turns to look at herself in the mirror. “He has the nerve to do all that last night and ask you to cancel your date with Colt and he’s just going to leave you at home, alone, on prom night?”
“He said he’d come to my birthday party,” I tell her, even though it’s not entirely true.
Riggs didn’t say he’d come to my birthday party.
He simply said he’d still be in Barrett for my birthday.
Looking at her, I feel envy slice through me like a dull blade.
She must see it on my face because she turns to look at me, eyes wide, like I just slapped her.
“I’m sorry, Gemmie.” She shakes her head, mouth trembling slightly. After everything that’s happened with Cam and Sera, she’s been overly sensitive of my moods. Afraid to make me angry. Afraid she’ll lose me too. “I didn’t mean to?—”
“Stop.” Gripping her by her shoulders, I turn her toward the mirror while taking a quick look at the time.
Colt will be here any minute. “You look beautiful Em,” I tell her.
“You deserves this night. You deserve to have fun. I’ll be fine—Dent and I are going to pop some popcorn and make fun of Beck on television.
I have four episodes of Lost & Found on the DVR I haven’t watched yet, plus the season finale.
It’s gonna be a shitshow. I can’t wait.”
“You love that show,” she says, relaxing while she laughs. She does look beautiful—her long black hair cascading over her shoulders in waves. Her deep, violet blue eyes fringed by thick, dark lashes. “Just admit it.”
“Fine—I love the show.” I confess on an exaggerated eye roll. “Just don’t tell Beck. His ego is big enough as it is.”
“Have you heard from him?” She looks worried again, like she keeps stepping on land mines.
“A few days ago,” I tell her while giving her shoulders another reassuring squeeze before I let them go.
“The show’s been picked up for another season and I guess some watch company offered him a brand deal.
There’s some kind of photoshoot in Madrid so my mom is going to meet him there for a few weeks during her annual European tour.
” I give her an eye roll to let her that I know how ridiculous it all sounds.
“She’s leaving the day after my birthday. ”
Turning away from our reflection, Emily frowns at me. “You’re not going with her?”
“How can I?” I ask with a shrug. “I’m working all summer.” It’s a dumb thing to say. I don’t have to work. I work because I like it. Because it makes me feel like one them. Like I belong on their side of the river.
Instead of pointing it out, Emily gives me a smile. “Well, maybe?—”
Whatever she’s about say is cut off by the low, muted tone of the doorbell. Colt is here to get her.
As soon as she hears it, Emily turns an unhealthy shade of green. “Gemm?—”
“No.” I say it firmly, gripping her shoulders again to give her a little shake. “You’re going to have an amazing night—say it.”
A slow, nervous smile starts to spread across pretty face. “I’m going to have an amazing night.”
And for just a moment, she looks like she believes it.
Even though I told Emily not to worry about me and to have fun, she’s been texting me all night. Selfies mostly—standing by the refreshment table. Her and Colt on the dance floor. A quick bathroom selfie by herself. Every time, I answered her with the same reply.
Me: Stop texting me and have fun!!
What I told her was true. I didn’t think Riggs would come over, but I hoped that he would.
I popped popcorn and made a quick caramel sauce to drizzle over the top of it, before sitting down with Dent to clear out the DVR like I said I would.
I laughed and groaned and rolled my eyes—making fun of Beck while I secretly envied him—until Dent had had enough and took himself off to bed with a ‘Night, Mule—see you in the mornin’.
Alone, I shut off the TV and wandered into the kitchen to clean up my popcorn mess and load the dinner dishes into the dishwasher. From there, I found myself in the sunroom, sitting in the dark, staring out the window at the dark stretch of trees that stand sentry between me and the river.
Around midnight, I decide I can’t stand it anymore and text him.
Me: I know you’re out there, Riggs.
Nothing.
Me: It’s creepy, you know. Standing in the woods, watching me.
Nothing.
Me: I seriously doubt that this is what Beck had in mind when he asked you to keep an eye on me.
Nothing.
Me: Just come inside. Dent’s sleeping. Not that it matters.
It matters.
It might not have, not so long ago, but it does now.
Me: Please, Riggs.
Hitting send, I lift my gaze to stare at the dark mass of tangled oak and elm trees—at the bald spot worked into the middle of it from years of pushing our way through it.
I stare.
Keep staring.
Until my eyes start to water and my heart starts to hurt. Until I’m giving up and shifting in my seat to stand so I can go to bed and cry myself to sleep.
What did you expect, Gemma Rae? You’ve made it entirely too easy for that boy to break your heart. Where’s your backbone? Where’s your self-respect.
When it comes to Riggs Wheeler, I seem to be lacking both.
That’s when I see him.
Standing at the edge of the yard, looking at the house like he can’t decide if he wants to finish walking across it or maybe bolt back into the trees. Breath held in my lungs, I wait for him to make up his mind.
Pulling myself out of my chair, I watch him cross the yard with long, purposeful strides until he’s mounting the porch steps, boots echoing angrily with ever step.
The screen door opens and he stands in the doorway, staring at me with that sick, panicked look he gets when he gives in and lets himself get too close.
That makes my heart hurt too.
But not enough for me to tell him to leave.
“Jesus Christ, Gem,” he says, his tone heavy and rough. Jaw set, brow pulled together in a frown, he aims it at my face. “Go put some clothes on.”
Looking down at myself, I take in the same tank top and sleep shorts I’ve been wearing to bed for as long as I can remember. Lifting my gaze, I meet his frown with one of my own. “I am wearing clothes, Riggs. Matter of fact, I’m wearing almost the same, exact thing I was wearing last night.”
“Yeah.” He shifts his gaze to look at something over my shoulder, his face contorting itself in to a scowl. “That’s the problem.”
“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him with a stubborn shrug to cover the fact that his admission is making it very hard for me to breathe. “So, you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”
For a few seconds, we just stand here and stare at each other, one waiting for the other to say something.
Do something.
And then Riggs does it.
Glowering at me, he stalks closer—three angry strides and he’s standing over me.
Without a word, Riggs lifts the hem of his shirt over his head and jerks it off.
Mouth gaping, I’m about to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing but it’s already done before I have the chance.
Dropping it over my head like a potato sack, Riggs dresses me like a doll, poking my head through the neck hole and pulling my arms through the sleeves, the hem of his shirt skimming past my knees.
Looking down at myself, I sigh. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” Riggs grips me by my arm and pulls me to the pair of rocking chairs that face the river.
I expect him to shove me into one of them but he doesn’t.
Sinking into the seat, he pulls me along with him, into his lap.
Legs hooked over its arm. His arm wrapped around my back, hand gripped against my ribcage.
His other hand resting on my shirt-covered thigh.
Stunned, I look up at him, angling my head enough to show me his face. “Happy?”
“No.” His jaw ticks while he stares at the river. “Not particularly.”
“Good.”
When I say it, I watch his jaw soften. The corners of his mouth tip upward just a bit. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”
“You wouldn’t want me any other way,” I tell him, my cheeks heating when he finally looks down to hook his dark gaze into mine.
“You’re probably right.” He gives me another half-smile. “I wouldn’t know what do with a version of you who didn’t drive me crazy and bite the shit out of me, every chance she got.”
“If you’re expecting an apology?—”
“From you?” Now he laughs quietly. “I know better.”
He’s right—he knows better.
Riggs knows better than anyone.
Still looking up at him, I wait for him to say something else.
Do something. Like kiss me again, the way he did last night.
Just thinking about it has me shifting in his lap, the restless movement pulling a low warning sound up the back of his throat and tightening his grip on my thigh. “Knock it off, Gem.”
“Knock what off?” I ask, not nearly as clueless as I’m pretending to be. I can feel the press of him against my backside. I know what I’m doing.
“Please, just… don’t.” He says it quietly, jaw ticking while he stares out the screened in window, toward the dark stand of trees beyond it. “Just let me do this, okay?”
Feeling guilty for antagonizing him, I go still. Head still tipped back so I can look at him, I rest it on his bare shoulder. “Do what?”
He clenches his teeth for a moment like he’s trying to stop himself from answering me, but then he relents. “Hold you.”
His answer knocks the wind clean out of me. For a moment, all I can do is stare at him before I finally find my voice. Looking up at him, I smirk. “Are we having a moment, Riggs?”
His mouth twitches again. “I’m sure as hell trying, but you’re not making it very easy.”
Nothing about us has been easy. Not since the night he walked me home.
Things have been confusing and messy. That’s my fault.
I’m the one who couldn’t leave well enough alone.
I’m the one who said the quiet part out loud and I know that if I hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here.
Riggs never would have crossed the line if I hadn’t showed him where it was.
We would’ve gone our whole lives without knowing and sometimes I think that would’ve been better for both of us.
Because I can’t say any of it out loud, I reach for the hand he has wrapped around my thigh and lift it up so I can see it.
“Does it hurt?” I ask quietly while tracing light fingertips over the red, welted bite marks I sunk into the heel of his hand last night, crisscrossing the set I left there almost a year ago.
“No.”
“Liar.” Shifting forward, I press my lips to the heel of his hand before looking up at him again. “Do you hate me, Riggs?” He said he would. Last night, he told me that after what happened, he’d hate us both.
This time he looks down at me before he says it. “No.”
Pulling his hand forward, I press his palm against my cheek, his dark, unreadable gaze still hooked into mine. “Riggs…”
He gets that sick, panicked look again—the one that guts me and tells me just how wrong he thinks this is—but it’s fleeting.
There and gone before I can feel the punch of it.
“Gem, I—” A frown mars his features for just a moment before he looks up, aiming his gaze at the river again.
“Gem.” This time when he says my name, it sounds puzzled.
“Gem…” This time it sounds urgent, a moment before he’s lifting and turning me toward the window so I can see what he sees.
Emily, bursting out of the trees, streaking across the yard to the back of the house. Hair disheveled. Bare foot, her tattered, borrowed prom dress dragging in the dirt behind her. She’s crying.
Emily is crying.