No, I don’t work for your father. Not really. My lips long to utter the truth—long to utter anything—but like always, I bite back the truth. “It’s just a job.”
“Is it?” she questions with a drop of hope in her eyes. “A lot of my father’s acquaintances would disagree with you.”
“Well, I’m not them.”
“I want to believe that.” She rests her chin on her knees, her bottom lip slightly jutted out. “After what just happened between us, I want you to be the guy I first met. The one I keep trying to convince myself exists, but I’m not sure I can.”
“Why not?”
“Because you work with the person who hurt me.”
“Your dad did that to you?” I gape at her, even though I’m not shocked.
“You look so shocked, yet you know who my father is. How much of a monster he is,” she says with her brow curved. “How is that so?”
“I don’t know.” I’m nervous talking about her father, worried I might let the truth accidentally slip out. My fingers and lungs ache for a cigarette, a dose of nicotine to settle my nerves. “Because you’re his daughter… I didn’t think he’d hurt you.”
A soft, hollow laughs slips from her lips and then she stares at me long and hard. “I think if you really knew him, you’d know that he’ll hurt anyone who doesn’t abide by his rules, even his own flesh and blood.”
I don’t know how to respond to what she said. I want to tell her that I’ll beat the shit out of Doc for hurting her, but I’d be sentencing myself to death if I tried. But good God, I need to help her somehow.
Her shoulders sag, misinterpreting my silence. “It wasn’t my father, anyway. It was Evan, which is worse.”
“Evan, your ex-boyfriend? He’s the one who hurt you?” When she nods, anger ripples through me like a violent thunderstorm. “When?”
“This morning,” she mumbles with a shrug. “After class… He gets rough with me sometimes… All the time actually. Even on our first date, he gripped my wrist so tight I bruised, all because I suggested we go to a movie instead of a party.”
The idea of Evan being in her place, touching her, hurting her… forcing her? “Did he… did he force you to do stuff?”
She shrugs again, her eyelashes fluttering as she fights back tears. “He does all the time. Has for years.” She sucks back the tears. “Up until recently, I thought that’s how things were supposed to be but… How can they be so different with you? I don’t get it.” She huffs in frustration, pressing her hand to her forehead, stressed out. “I don’t get it. I’m not supposed to be this comfortable with someone who works for my father. I’m not supposed to be with someone who isn’t part of this world. Someone like the you I first met.”
“I am the guy you first met,” I assure her, trying to remain calm. I want to ram my fist into Evan’s face, watch blood spill from his nose, do the same to him as I did to Ben. “I want to beat the shit out of Evan.”
“You don’t have to do anything to him. That’s not why I told you—so you could go risking your life.” She lowers her hand to her lap. “I get it. Evan is Evan. Everyone hates him but has to respect him because he’s Donny’s son.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
My jaw drops. Evan is Donny Elderman’s son? What the fuck? How didn’t I know about this?
Emery reads the shock on my face, and she slaps her hand across her mouth. “Oh, my God. You didn’t know who he is, did you?” Tears bubble in her eyes. “I thought you knew Evan is Donny’s son. I thought… because you were so close to my father… Oh, my God. Oh, my God. They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me.” She folds her arms around herself and scoots away from me.
I think about all the signs I missed that made Evan’s real identity pretty obvious. Evan has bodyguards. He’s protected at all times. He’s in charge of import tasks, but never actually does the dirty work.
“I’m not going to say anything to anyone,” I assure her, dipping my head to meet her teary gaze. “It doesn’t even matter who he is. At least not to me.” My gut twists at my lie. It does matter. A lot.
This bit of information could be my ticket out of here. Could I do that to Emery? Betray her like that? A few weeks ago I might have been able to say yes. Now, I’m not sure I can, not when I’m starting to care so much about her.
“Yes, it does matter.” Hot tears stream down her cheeks, leaving streaks on her skin. Her eyes are glossy and round, and her hair is tangled around her face. Still, she looks absolutely amazing, so perfect, so untouchable. Yet, she let me touch her in the most intimate, trusting way possible only an hour ago. “No one’s supposed to know Evan’s out here.”
“Out here?” My head cocks to the side as pucker forms at my brow. “What do you mean?”
“Out in Laramie instead of…” she trails off, looks toward the wall, and wipes her face with the back of her hand. “I’ve already said too much. God, I just need to stop talking.”
My heart pounds deafeningly from inside my chest. Emery knows where the warehouse is. I can feel it. But how can I get her to speak about it when she’s so terrified simply thinking about it?
Fear.
I know how toxic it is.
How it can possess one’s soul.
Devour your mind, your body
and swallow you whole.
“Why is Evan here in Laramie, anyway?” I sign cautiously.
“I don’t know,” she mutters, staring at the floor, avoiding eye contact with me.
Before I get a chance to press her for more information, she straightens her legs and stands to her feet. “I think it might be time for you to leave,” she says, seeming torn. “I don’t want to talk about this stuff anymore. I shouldn’t have told you anything in the first place.”
I don’t know what to say to her. I know what I want to say, but want and need are entirely different things.
I’m not who you think I am.
I’m as lost as you.
I just want to be free.
You and me, we’re not so different.
Night and morning on the outside, we’re simply day on the inside.
“I can’t leave you alone tonight,” I finally sign with an apologetic look. “I have to take you somewhere with me and then stay with you until your father says it’s okay for you to be alone.”
Her expression plummets. “Where are you taking me?”
“To…” I wince, my hands freezing in mid-air. After what we were just talking about, how can I say it? “To Evan’s to pick something up for your father.”
Her features harden as she glares at me. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her so infuriated, so angry.
“Fine,” she says through gritted teeth. “Let me get dressed.”
She ushers me toward the door with a wave of her hand, and I head to step out, picking up my clothes on the way.
“I’m sorry,” I sign as I step out into the hallway.
“For what?” Her voice wobbles.
I fix my gaze on her, hoping she’ll see the truth. That I am sorry and that I do care about her. “For everything.”
“Me too.” She smashes her lips together then closes the door.
The walls rattle and the wooden symbol on the wall slips off one nail, hanging crookedly. I watch it swing back and forth as I get dressed.
Out of all the goddamn people we have to meet tonight, why the fuck did it have to be Evan? Donny fucking Elderman’s son. Donny fucking Elderman’s son who bruised Emery.
My patience is going to be tested.
I want to bang my head on the door.
Pound a hole into the wall.
Scream until my lungs burst.
But like always, all I can do is remain silent as more secrets push me down into the dirt. I’m starting to believe that I’ll never be unburied again. That this life will be my final resting place, and the peaceful moment Emery and I just shared will never be again.
Die.
Die.
Die.
>
Slowly.
Letting your secrets bury you alive.
Chapter 13
The Truth Will Set You Free, or it Will Kill You
Emery
After telling Ryler about Evan, I’m pretty much a dead woman walking. Ellis warned me someone is coming after me. Maybe that’s who is going to end me. Perhaps Ellis saw into the future and knew I was going to mess up, knew my father or Evan would come after me because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I’ve always wondered if my father might have been the one behind the notes in an attempt at scaring me to run home.
Regardless of my impending death, I secretly hope that when Ryler and I meet up with Evan, Ryler will lose his shit and punch him for hurting me.
God, I really am insane.
Delusional.
A danger.
More potent than the poison my mother drinks.
My lips are toxic.
My hands are death.
My mind is venomous.
Rain drizzles from the clouds rumbling above us, and silver flashes of lightning light up the cab of the car as we drive down the road toward Evan’s. He let me pick the music, and not knowing any bands, I clicked on a random playlist that fills up the silence between us until Ryler turns the volume down while we’re stopped at a red light.
“What are you thinking about?” Ryler signs. “You seem upset… Is it because of where we’re going?”
I shrug, turning to stare out the window, watching the rain trickle down the glass. It’s after three o’clock in the morning and the homes and stores lining the street are pitch black. The lampposts are the only light in the darkness engulfing the sleepy city.
I feel Ryler staring at me until the light turns green. Then he rips his attention off me. Instead of driving forward, he shoves the gearshift into park, leaves the engine idling, and rotates in his seat.
“What are you doing?” I sit up in the seat, glancing around at the desolation around us. “Why aren’t you driving?”
“I want you to tell me what’s wrong.” Ryler’s hands circle the air in smooth, flawless movements. “I feel like I should turn around, take you back to my place, and leave you with Violet and Luke. You shouldn’t have to see Evan.”
“It doesn’t matter where I am. Nothing matters,” I mumble, looking out the window again as thunder booms. The stores, while masked by darkness, feel alive and awake, as if they’re watching me. “And I’ve already told you too much for the night.” I glance back at him again. “You and I have crossed a lot of lines tonight.”
“That’s arguable,” he signs, his eyes burning fiercely. “But we’ll talk about that when we get home. Right now, I want you to tell me what’s bothering you. And don’t tell me that you’ve told me enough. You haven’t told me anything really.”
I shake my head. “I’ve told you more than I’ve told anyone.”
“Why are you so untrusting toward everyone?” he wonders. “What’s been done to you to make you so scared?”
Truth and trust. He wants me to hand it over, and oh, how I wish I could.
I bite down on my bottom lip until I draw blood, letting the foul taste of salt and rust burns at the back of my throat.
“Silence, Emery, or I will cut off your tongue,” my mother once said.
Silence, Emery, or I will silence you.
Silence, Emery, silence.
Silence, Emery.
They’re going to kill you.
Truth and trust.
Who do you believe?
I want to believe someone.
I want to be set free.
I have nothing left to lose.
My rose petals are all dying and are about to fall to the ground.
It feels like maybe Ryler will pick them up, if I let him.
“My father’s going to kill me.” My lips move on their own accord, making my decision for me. I keep my head turned away from him, too afraid that I’ll see disgust in his eyes. “When he finds out what I’ve told you—that he’s hurt me and so has Evan—they’ll both come after me.”
Ryler captures my chin in his hand and forces me to look at him. Our gazes drink each other in and then his palm leaves my skin. His hands rise in the air, but then lightning snaps in the sky and we both jump.
He lets out a shaky breath before he continues. “No one’s going to ever find out,” he assures me, one side of his mouth lifting into a lopsided grin. “My lips are sealed, and I mean it this time. What I did… agreeing to...” he trails off, gulping.
“Agree to what?”
He clenches the wheel, taking shallow breaths before elevating his hands again. “Your father told me to tell you I told him we went to the concert that night. I never told him. He just somehow knew.” He blows out a freeing breath while I struggle to breathe. “I never should have agreed to lie to you like that.”
“But how did he know?” I whisper. “How does he know everything?”
Ryler reaches across the console and gives my hand a squeeze before signing, “I don’t know how he knows stuff, but I wish I did. I want you to understand that you can trust me.” He draws an X across his heart. “I’m not Evan. I’m not your father. I’m just Ryler. The guy you first met, the one who gave you back your journal pages without reading them, who taught you how to play poker, who you gave the most amazing kiss ever—that’s still me. And what happened tonight, was simply amazing. I want more of that if you’ll let me.”
I suck my bottom lip between my teeth. Blood still lingers on it and the foul taste fills my mouth again. I want it, too, but don’t know how it’s possible. “My father won’t ever let you be with me. I’m supposed to be with Evan. It’s been predetermined since I was born.”
“We’ll figure something out.”
He looks like he means it, but again, how?
How can he think us being together, going against my father, is possible?
“Will you tell me why you work for him? My father, I mean. Maybe if you explained it to me, then I’d understand you more. Maybe I could understand why someone who seems as nice as you can work for someone as horrible as him.”
His expression drops as he tenses. I can’t, he mouths with remorse.
I look away, fighting back the tears. “It’s fine. I understand.” But I don’t. Not at all.
He grunts in frustration, the sound startling, like every sound he makes. Then his fingers find my chin again, and he urges me to look at him. I want to, but I can’t, he mouths. Not right now, anyway.
“When then?”
I don’t know, his lips move. But I’m going to find a way.
The streetlights reflect across his face, highlighting the pain in his eyes.
I nod, not knowing what else to say.
His fingers leave my face, and he retrieves a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket. He pops one between his lips then cups his hands around his mouth and lights it up. Smoke immediately snakes through the air, and he cracks the window down. Wind gusts inside along with a spritz of rain.
I expect him to drive. No one’s around, but I don’t think there’s anything else left to say to each other except the truth. And neither of us seem willing to cave. Still, Ryler remains motionless, staring out the window, puffing on his cigarette.
Only when he’s smoked half of it does he focus back on me again with the cigarette resting between his lips. “What if I told you I didn’t want to work for your father?” he asks. “What if I had to work for him, but only for a while?”
I fiddle with the bracelet on my wrist. “Okay… But why?”
He removes the cigarette from his lips, reaches out the window, and grazes his thumb across the end, scattering ashes through the air. He takes another long drag and exhales before flicking the cigarette outside. Then he rolls up the window and wipes his damp hands on his jeans
“I can’t go into the details just yet. All I can say is that I don’t want to be working for your father, and after a while, I won’t have to.”
&nbs
p; Something about his eyes warms the iciness that has possessed the inside of me for my entire life. So cold, yet so warm. So evil, yet appears so good. So much like me that it’s frightening. Maybe if he can open up to me, I can open up to him. Tell him the truth about me. Tell him of my condition. Of what I did in the past. Maybe he wouldn’t judge me.
“Be careful,” I warn. “If my father knew you were saying what you are… He’d kill you.”