Razorblade Kisses(98)

Rachel stopped walking ahead of her and came back to put her arm around Emery’s shoulders.

“Emery, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “But we have to go now.”

Rachel held her up as they ran to the car, Emery trying to breathe the entire time and failing. Jumping in, Rachel sped to the meeting point where they planned on dropping the car and meeting Derrick. They were quiet. Shock coursed through Emery’s body, but no thoughts formed in her mind.





CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

The Rubble of Our Sins



Emery didn’t remember getting her car from the motel in Dublin or the four hour drive back to her apartment.

“Emma,” Ms. Carter called as she walked slowly up the stairs the next morning, “are you okay?”

Emery turned and looked over her shoulder, nodding.

“Your boyfriend was here, looking for you. I told him you were gone. He said you were sick. Have you been in the hospital?”

“I had a family emergency, Ms. Carter,” Emery said, her voice full of physical and mental exhaustion.

Tim had been here looking for her. She couldn’t handle that right now. She just wanted to drink and pass out. That was her plan.

“Dear, you look like you’re sick. Your boyfriend asked me to let him know if I saw you.”

“Don’t.” Emery didn’t recognize her own voice. “Thank you, but I’ll call him myself.” Liar.

“Okay,” the old woman replied with a sigh. “Well, let me know if you need anything.” Ms. Carter closed her door and Emery padded up the remainder of the steps and stood in front of the door to her apartment.

She leaned her forehead against the door and her existence disappeared. She didn’t know where to go from here. Ashley.

She sent Tim a text.

I’m still not feeling well. Stop bothering Ms. Carter.

Then she pushed open her door and walked into the place that she’d begun to think of as home. She stilled about two steps in because she smelled him. Looking to her right, she found Tim sitting on her couch, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. He looked up and they locked eyes. He blinked slowly, as if making sure she was really there.

“Please leave,” she said as she walked into the kitchen and put her bags of vodka on the counter.

Tim was on his feet and in the kitchen in seconds. He pinned her back against the cabinets, his lips inches from hers. She blinked.

“Are you okay?” Tim’s thumb grazed her bottom lip and it started to tremble, the events of the last two days bubbling to the surface.

She shook her head.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

She shook her head again and closed her eyes this time, trying to ward off the tears that were pooling in her eyes.

“Why the fuck not?” His voice was full of indignation.

She sighed and stepped out of his hold. Turning, she reached into her cabinet and got a glass, filled it with ice, and started pouring her first glass of vodka, straight. Tim stood there and watched as she took gulps. She was still facing away from him after her third gulp.

“You need to leave,” she repeated.

“I’m not leaving.”

Her head sagged and she sighed heavily. Emery didn’t want this. She hadn’t wanted to do this now or when she saw Tim in the dance club. She’d always known it’d come down to this.

“Emma, tell me what’s going on.”

His hand was on her back, threatening to soothe her, but she didn’t want to be soothed. She wanted the pain. Emery shook off his hand. The pain was all she deserved. Emery turned around and leaned against the counter, drink in her hand.

“Tim, you don’t know me. This,” she moved her hand over her wildly to indicate her, “is why you shouldn’t have even talked to me after the dance club. I’m poison. I’m a criminal and I can’t tell you shit about it because you’re a cop.” She spit the word cop out like it was a disease.

Tim’s eyes grew wide. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about how you need to get the fuck out of here and never come back.” Her voice didn’t give away the utter devastation she was feeling, but sounded steely.

“Emma, we can work anything out. I love you.” He took a step toward her and she moved away, walking toward the back of her apartment.

“You don’t love me, Tim. You don’t even know me.”

“Emma, talk to me.” Tim followed Emery and stood right behind her.

“STOP FUCKING CALLING ME THAT!” Emery turned and pushed Tim’s chest to get some space.

His eyes widened and he took a step back. “You love me,” he whispered.

“It doesn’t fucking matter.” She let out a cold laugh at the fact that she did love him, but needed him to leave. “I actually think I’m incapable of love, Tim.” This was a lie she now wished was true.