Chapter 18
Emersyn
I don’t know that much about PTSD, but I heard the panic in Turner’s voice as he shouted for Gunner. The response from Gunner nearly moved me to tears as he sprinted to the barn, like he was suddenly on a mission—with more urgency than he trailed me in the woods. He knew Turner needed him.
Now, even as I string popcorn on fishing line Turner gave me, working with what little I have to decorate, I can’t shake the strange shift in Turner. He’s got a strange, distant look in his eyes, and it’s more unnerving than anything I’ve faced thus far.
Especially as he sits on the couch, still in his parka.
“Are you hungry?” I ask him as I finish my string of popcorn and stand to my feet.
“No,” he answers me flatly, his eyes focused on the fire.
“Okay,” I say quietly, threading the pitiful decoration around the Christmas tree he set by the door for me. I’m regretting everything about having him get it for me. I know it triggered whatever happened this afternoon, and I feel awful for it. At least hot and cold Turner looked less dead inside than this version—even him up in the room was less terrifying than this version.
When I finish, I approach him cautiously. “Aren’t you hot in that?” I gesture to his coat.
He shakes his head, and stands to his feet, towering over me. “I’m going to bed.”
“It’s only seven o’clock,” I reason, following him into the kitchen. He reaches to the cabinet above the fridge, pulling down a new bottle of prescription sleeping pills. I purse my lips as he heads down the hallway, noting his hands shaking.
“Turner, wait,” I call after him, jogging to catch up as Gunner follows. I can’t let him go up there alone, and I have a feeling he might not come back down. “Please.” I grab his hand, tugging hard at him when he doesn’t stop.
“Let me go. I just want to sleep for a while.”
“Don’t go,” my voice wavers, and he finally turns back around to face me, his eyes no longer hardened like always. I see raw, gut-wrenching pain in them, and every fucking doubt I’ve ever had about him slips away.
“I’m a very bad person, Em,” he rasps. “I’ve done things that no one ever should.”
“It’s okay,” I tell him, reaching for his coat. I unzip it, pushing it off his shoulders. “I don’t care what you’ve done.”
“You should,” he counters as I tug it the rest of the way off, forcing the bottle of pills out of his hand. They clatter to the floor, disappearing under the fabric of his parka. “What’re you doing?”
“You’re sweating,” I breathe out, lifting the hem of his shirt.
“I’ll be fine,” he argues, but his voice is husky now.
I stand on my tiptoes, and he lets me pull it the rest of the way off. I take in his hard chest, brushing my fingertips over his skin, dipping to the snap on his snow pants. I undo it, feeling his erection beneath his sweatpants.
“Em,” he groans. “You don’t…” His voice trails off as I kneel, freeing him and brushing my lips against its tip. He sucks in a sharp breath, as I run my tongue around it, catching the precum. I take his cock into my mouth, the fullness sending a jolt of arousal through my body. “Stop,” he says, nearly at a whisper. “Stop.”
I do as he asks, ignoring the pang of rejection in my chest. “I just wanted to make you feel better.”
He grabs my elbow and lifts me to my feet. “I know.” His eyes are painfully soft as he kicks the rest of his pants off. “But let’s do it right. If anyone’s getting on their knees, it’s me.” Turner leans down and take my mouth possessively, his hand wrapping around my neck.
We stumble backward, my back hitting the wall. He strips off my sweatshirt and unhooks my bra, letting my breasts drop free. He palms them as he kisses his way down my jaw, and I hurriedly undo my jeans, shoving them and my underwear down my hips.
“So fucking eager,” he breathes into my neck. “I don’t understand you, Em.”
“Likewise,” I say, kicking off the rest of my clothes, his erection now pressing against my bare skin. “But I’ll learn you, if you learn me.”
“I’m unstable, Em.” He kisses down my neck, stopping at my collarbone. “And I can’t teach you something I don’t know. No one has survived me.” His words hit like a sledgehammer to my heart, but his mouth finds my nipple then, sucking it into his mouth with force.
I thread my fingers in his dark hair, tipping my head back as his hand palms my other breast and he flits his tongue across my nipple. “I’ll figure it out,” I pant. “I’ll figure you out.”
He kneels, kissing his way down my stomach, pausing to look up at me. “I hope you do, angel. I really hope you do.” Turner lifts me, catching me by surprise as my legs land on his shoulders and his arms wrap around my thighs.
My chest heaves as he buries his face between my legs, groaning as his tongue connects with me. “Oh fuck,” I pant, as he circles my clit, pulling at me. I squirm against him, but he’s relentless, sucking and licking, drawing me closer and closer to an orgasm.
“ Turner, ” I cry as I near the edge. “I…” My voice trails off as I come, my thighs tightening around his head. He holds onto me, letting me grind against his face, drawing out as much pleasure as possible. My cries turn to sighs as he drops my legs, and then sweeps me up, carrying me into the bedroom.
His mouth crashes into mine as we collapse to the bed. He gives me no warning as he pushes himself into me, grunting with satisfaction. “You’re so good, Em.” He thrusts into me, biting down on my lips as he picks up his force.
I wrap my arms around his neck as we mesh skin with skin, baring more than just our bodies. All I can feel is him—his heat, his scent, his sanity slipping, if he ever had it from the beginning. As he comes inside of me, a guttural growl fills the room, laced with pain and pleasure.
“Oh fuck, Em,” he groans into me, gripping me. “Why are you so sweet? Why aren’t you trying to run away from me?” He buries his face in my hair, and I’m not sure who is holding who in the moment.
“Do you still have to go upstairs now?” I whisper when he finally releases me, propping himself up on his elbows.
He searches my eyes, his fingers brushing across my cheek. “I can stay here with you. Just let me shower.”
I nod, resting my hand over his. “Okay.”
He slides off me and then the bed, heading for the bathroom. I take in the shadow of him, noting that he leaves the door open as he slips into the shower. I watch him through the glass, wondering what he’s thinking, and if he’s even close to being okay.
And is it selfish of me to think that I could be enough for him? Could I give him something to keep his mind here? I mean, his brother left him. What if I didn’t? What if I chose to stay? Could he love me?
The questions swim around my head as I lay there, watching Turner’s shadow in the shower. I’m fucking crazy for falling for him. He killed Adam. God knows who else he’s killed. He’s threatened to kill me, too.
But for some reason, I really don’t think he will.
Turner steps out of the shower then, toweling off and heading in my direction. He stops a couple feet from the door. “Were you just staring at me the whole time?”
I blush. “Whoops. Sorry.”
He grins at me, letting out a chuckle. “It’s fine. It’s just been a long time since anyone has tried to catch a glimpse of me naked.”
“I bet that’s weird for you,” I say, following him as he climbs into bed beside me, tugging the covers up around both of us.
“Yeah, I guess so.” He pulls me into his chest, and I wrap my arm around him, snuggling into his chest again. “So you read the letters on the desk?”
“Yeah,” I say, feeling him tense beneath me. “I also read your brother’s journal.” He stops breathing at the mention of that, and I suddenly regret mentioning. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I was just… I just wanted to know who you are. I don’t know. It was absolutely heartbreaking—what you went through,” I feel myself rambling, terrified of the reaction that he’s going to have, desperate to stave off his explosion. I don’t have clothes on to go sprinting into the night. “Turner, I’m so sorry.”
He audibly swallows. “I haven’t read his journal. I, uh, couldn’t stomach that.”
“There’s not a lot in there,” I say quietly. “I… Um… I’m sorry that he left you when you were really going through it.”
“What?” Turner’s reaction takes me by surprise.
“That he left?” I offer it out there again.
“Mm,” is all he says, then kissing the top of my head. He falls into silence after that, but in ten or so minutes of me holding my breath, he falls asleep, his breaths deep and even. I lay against him, listening to him like that, until I finally catch myself drifting off into a haze of slumber as well. However, I still can’t shake that I’m missing a piece of his complicated puzzle…
And it leaves me with a bad, bad feeling in my gut.