Razorblade Kisses(104)

Liar. Rachel and Tim were so much better without her around.

Toxic. She’d tried to help Lucas and failed miserably.

Contaminated. Her pain filled every pore in her body. Every single step she took was full of loss, regret, and utter desperation.

The mask of Ericka saved her. Ericka smiled her empty smile and flirted with all the drunk men that came in. She saw their masks and wondered if they could see hers. She’d shed her long sleeves—it was too fucking hot here—and the only thing that could possibly give away her total undoing was the tattoo she’d gotten as soon as she was settled in Key West. It was script on her right forearm that read, “My heart is broken and my head is just barely inhabitable.” On her left wrist, she had her sister’s name inked as well, so every few minutes, she thought of her, every way she turned. She didn’t hide her scars anymore. She wore them. Ericka was scarred and ruined and she wanted everyone to see that. She needed to see it. The tattoo was just another reminder.

Lucas was never far from her mind. He’d filled her life with hope and it had been snuffed out with such fury she couldn’t comprehend it. Tim inhabited her thoughts at night, when she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep. She hadn’t slept more than four hours since she’d started working at the bar. His lips, his hands, everywhere they’d touched her—his essence was emblazoned on her body. She hadn’t known it was possible to miss someone so much. Every second was full of her trying to push him out of her memory.

He’d patiently weaseled his way into her life and her heart. Then he saw who she really was. She could only imagine what he thought of her.

So many lies. Emery couldn’t keep up with all the perfectly executed lies she’d told over the past five years. The problem with being a good liar is you forget who you are under all those layers of deceit.





CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Back From the Dead



Emery was bent over, pulling out pilsner glasses out of the dishwasher and about to put them on the shelf behind the bar when she heard someone clear his throat. Popping up from behind the bar, she took in the man that stood in front of her. He had on a white linen shirt and gray shorts. His deep mahogany hair was intentionally messy and sticking up everywhere. He’d put on a little weight since she’d seen him last.

A smile unconsciously curled her lips upward. “What are you doing here?” Emery self-consciously pulled at her small tube top as she moved quickly to embrace him.

“To be honest, I’m not really sure. What are you doing here?” Noah’s voice rumbled as his lips moved in her hair.

She waved off his question. “I-I’m a bartender.” Emery stumbled over her words. She couldn’t believe he was here, in her bar, after so long.

“You look…” Noah paused, obviously taking in her appearance. His eyes ran over her white blond hair and too tan skin. She was wearing a white tube top and short gold shorts with her cowboy boots. “Different.”

“How are you here?” She ran her hand over her hair, wondering what he was thinking. The last time she’d seen Noah was the night they’d had sex, when he’d told her he loved her and then she left. She bet he’d been pissed when he came home that Sunday.

He sighed and ran his hand through his brown hair. “Rachel.” Her former best friend’s name hung in the air while she digested the fact that she was seeing Noah again.

“Damn it,” Emery said and motioned for him to sit at the bar. “Fucking Derrick. I knew he found me, but I was hoping they would just forget about me.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked again, sitting down.

“I...” She wondered how much he knew.

He nodded. “Rachel told me everything. She had to.”

Emery nodded. She figured Rachel had to work some sort of magic to get him to come down here and talk to her.

He looked down at his hands. “I’m so sorry, Emery.” His using her real name made her recoil; it sounded wrong coming from his lips. “You didn’t deserve any of the things that happened to you. You were innocent and that was stripped from you. You could’ve turned into an evil person, but you didn’t. You wanted to help other kids that were going through the same thing.” He peered at her through his impossibly long eyelashes. “You’re so incredibly strong.”

“I can’t even think of any of that, Noah. It’s been six months and I can’t fucking allow myself to think about any of it. I’m just trying to survive.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “You want something to drink? I make a mean Bloody Mary.”