“I’m not going to let this night demolish everything they’ve worked for. Like you said, the four of you got where you did by employing elbow grease and sheer determination. I won’t let them take the fall for something I would have gladly done had they not taken the honor of it away from me,” I said, trying not to overanalyze what the shift in her expression meant. “I put the bat in their hands, the idea in their heads—I was the mastermind, they were only the muscle. I can’t allow them to serve the time when they wouldn’t be facing it if it wasn’t for me. Especially when their futures won’t be waiting for them on the other side and mine will.” I’d lived three lifetimes of a man’s future and I was finally looking into the green eyes of the one I’d been waiting for.
“Patrick,” she said slowly, doubt in her voice, “what exactly are you getting at?”
“Everyone’s on board with the . . . modified version of what happened tonight. Your brothers, my brothers, Julia, Ty—”
“You saw Ty?” she said, her hands dropping to her side.
I nodded my head. “I had to convince crapperware with some persuasive means to align his side of the story with the one I crafted.”
Her face dropped too. “And what have you been crafting?” she asked, like she already knew.
“Everyone is going to confess to me being the one attacking Ty tonight,” I said, and there it was.
The flash of pain tearing open her face I’d wanted nothing more than to avoid. The pain that was perhaps the whole reason I’d avoided relationships in the past, because if you wanted to experience the good, you had to take the bad with it. Because the good was nothing but the norm without the bad.
The norm . . .
Everything Emma wanted and yet another reminder of what I couldn’t give her.
“You don’t have everyone in on your lie,” she said, trying to break free of my arms. I didn’t let her. “You went to my brothers. Your brothers. Julia. Ty!” she yelled, letting me see the hurt in her eyes. “You went to the devil himself to get him on your side before even talking to me about this?” she asked, wanting me to confirm it again because she didn’t want to believe it.
“I did,” I admitted, because there was no other way to put it.
“Yeah,” she said, breaking through my arms this time. “I guess it doesn’t really matter what the woman you supposedly love thinks. The boys are all on board, so of course Emma will just go with it, right?” she accused, spinning towards the slider. “But guess what?” she hollered, looking at me over her shoulder. “Everyone is not on board, so good luck getting your story to stick in court.”
She rushed through the door, whooshing it shut with a slam. Gripping the railing like I wanted to turn the wood to powder, I tilted my head back and cursed at the moon, at the bloody stars, and universe, and cosmos for aligning the stars to not be in my favor tonight.
One more curse flowing under my breath and I followed after her, not because I was worried about what would happen to all of us if she didn’t carve her story to match ours, but because I’d hurt her. No punishment that could be inflicted by man could hurt me worse than this.
The sets of brothers were still on opposite sides of the room, although William and Joseph were at least trying to make small talk.
“You guys,” I snapped at the pacing Scarletts, “you need to get out of here now. Before the cops get here.” When their pacing continued, I shouted, “Now!” One word put them into action faster than a string of them.
While one set of brothers were scrambling into action, I looked to the other set, one of which had a smile of satisfaction taking up the lower half of his face.
“That went well,” Joseph said, clapping his hands at me. “Like you said, convincing a woman is as easy as you are.”
William nudged him, shaking his head in a not now kind of way.
“Don’t you have a rainbow to paint or something?” I sneered over at him, holding myself back from throwing him to the ground because that’s how we Hayward brothers tended to resolve these kinds of situations. An old fashioned, rough and tumble, fight to the word mercy.
“You guys need to get out of here too,” I said, looking at William since he was the only one not smirking at me. “The fewer people here to question when the cops come to get me the better.” I waved at the door. “You can take the Mustang, so make like a tree and leave.”
“What?” Joseph said, shoving off the countertop. “I thought you wanted us to sit back and enjoy the show? I wouldn’t want to leave just as it’s about to good.” Motioning to the microwave, he added, “I just threw in a bag of popcorn to enjoy the part where Patrick is about to have his ego bubble burst.”
“Get out,” I whispered because it seemed more convincing that a scream. It was. Three brothers hurried out of the kitchen, congregating at the door.
“Hey, guys,” I called out, forcing my rage fuse to snuff out. They weren’t the ones I was mad at, and it wasn’t fair to take it out on them because I couldn’t on Ty. “Thanks,” I said, “and sorry for the mood swings.”
“When you say sorry,” Nathanial said, opening the door, “are you apologizing for tonight or since the day you were born?”
Joseph turned away, probably to hide the expression he was stifling a laugh around.
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, shooing them away. “Get out of here, you ugly brutes.”
“We love you too, little brother,” William replied before the door closed behind them.
Once they were gone, I wished they were back because nothing was waiting for me but the uncomfortable silence only an upset woman could create. This might have been a good time for the cops to come and take me away.
Forcing myself down the hall, I tapped the door of the guest room Emma had occupied a week ago.
“Go away,” was her succinct and immediate response.
“Not gonna happen,” I said, sounding another knock before letting myself in.
“Go. Away,” a blanket covered lump repeated from the bed.
“No.”
“I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t have anything to say. So be on your merry way to jail.” Her voice was more sad than angry, but more angry than affectionate.
“Don’t go to bed mad,” I said, pulling on the blanket. She snatched it right back. “Stay up and fight. You won’t be able to sleep anyways.”
“You want to fight?” Emma seethed, the blanket performing acrobatics across the room.
“Not really,” I said, taking a couple steps back because she was three shades of pissed. “I’d rather discuss what’s bothering you in a mature, peaceful, you talk and I’ll listen, then I’ll talk and you listen kind of way.”
Walking on her knees to the end of the bed, she came to a stand, glaring at me like I’d betrayed her in every way a man could betray a woman. “How about I talk loudly and you listen because I’ve heard ten lifetimes worth of screaming and I made a promise to myself I’d never allow myself to scream at someone. As much as I want to right now.” She might not have been screaming with her voice, but her eyes were picking up the slack. “So, what defense could you possibly have for getting everyone else to go along with your lies, and then you came to me last? Because Emma will go along with whatever, right?” she said, mimicking a man’s voice as she threw her arms around. She wasn’t having any problem moving those arms now. “Emma doesn’t even have a backbone. She won’t stand up to me. She won’t challenge me on this.” Her eyes were too swollen for me to detect the tear before it skied down her cheek. She wiped it away so fast it could have been acid. “What sort of explanation could you have that I’d want to hear?”
I glued myself to the wall behind me because I felt my own anger trickling into my veins, and two hot-heads accomplished nothing but a lot of shattered picture frames. “Was that you trying to twist what I did tonight into something Ty would do?”
“No,” she said, cinching her bathrobe tighter. “That was me making a conclusion based on the evidence. You didn’t
ask me. You didn’t come to me first, second, or even third. You came to me last, telling me this was the way it was going to be.”
And then I got that everything-looks-different-from-someone-else’s-point-of-view ideology. Perception is reality.
“God, Emma. I’m sorry,” I said, tapping the back of my head against the wall. “It was a crappy thing to do now that I hear it from your shoes. When I came up with this hair-brained scheme, you were being stitched back together and I had to get to Ty before he talked. But you’re right, I should have come to you first,” I admitted, realizing it now, of course. Why would anyone upstairs want to make my life easy? “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. And just so we’re straight, I’m not telling you that you have to go along with this. I’m asking you.” And I was. I wouldn’t force anything on her, even myself if she didn’t want me to. “I respect whatever decision you come to and I mean that. I’m not just saying it because I’m supposed to.
“So,” I said, walking towards her, wanting to kiss her so badly I knew I shouldn’t, “are you going to tell me what’s really bothering you?”
I waited for her answer. And waited some more. I knew me not including her in my quest to make myself a felon had upset her plenty, but it wasn’t what was still causing the skin between her eyes to line.
“When I have a tough time deciding where to begin, I find starting with the truth helpful,” I said, trying to be supportive, but I knew it could be taken as a remark coming from the mouth of an insufferable smartass.
Emma collapsed on the end of the bed. “I’ve lived twenty years without you, one month with you, and for one night—one fraction of a night—you’ve been mine. And now I’m losing you,” she whispered into her lap.
And I got it. Got to the heart of the problem. Now that I’d identified it, I could work towards fixing it.
“Emma, you are not losing me,” I said, kneeling in front of her. “I’m just going to spend a little time behind bars, maybe none since I have an attorney on my side that doesn’t know how to lose.” I took her hands in mine, focusing on the feeling, knowing there’d be more than a few nights I’d spend dreaming of this moment. “And I haven’t just been yours tonight. I was a lost cause the day you called me out on a perfect sun-tanning day.”
A corner of her mouth lifted in a sad smile. “It won’t matter how long you’re in there because you’re going to end up resenting me. You’ll blame me for being there, and you’ll be right to.” She looked at me, apology etched in her face. “Nobody would be in this mess if it wasn’t for me. And I know I’m not very good at relationships, given my colored history, but blame and resentment have a way of choking out anything good that might grow in a relationship.”
Why were women so adept at twisting things up into the worst possible conclusion? “You talk this crazy every Thursday night?” I asked, kissing her when I wanted to shake my head in frustration. Embrace the good at all costs, I’d heard someone say once, and I was going to do just that. “Listen to me, Emma,” I said against her mouth. “I love you. Nothing’s going to change that, a little jail time least of all, although no promises I won’t come out with facial tattoos and a bald head, looking ready to bench press a bus.”
She laughed, less sad this time. Something was finally getting through, but it was like trying to smash through a concrete barricade with a pencil. “But you’re going to lose everything you’ve worked for too. I try not to make it a habit of mingling with convicted felons,”—she lifted an eyebrow at me—“but it’s common knowledge that a mark like that stays on your record for awhile and makes employment difficult to ascertain.”
I wanted to shake my hands to the sky in exasperation. She was worried about me going away for all the wrong reasons. All I was worried about was not being able to kiss her until her, me, or both of us were senseless.
“The only thing I’m concerned about waiting for me outside of those exit gates is you,” I said, meaning it. My job didn’t require a clean record, Stanford could kick me out for all I cared,—I’d found exactly what I’d been looking for there—and I certainly didn’t need any more money. “Everything will be fine. Everything is fine now. Since I know you don’t believe it in your present state of woman crazy, can you just take my word for it?” It was asking a lot—trust wasn’t something that was easy to give away.
She touched my face, like perhaps she didn’t think it was real, until the trio of lines folded between her eyes smoothed. “Fine,” she said, blowing a chunk of hair off her forehead. “Now seems like a bad time to stop trusting you anyways, especially since I’m about to tell you I love you for the first time.”
I didn’t hear it right away. I mean, I heard it, I just didn’t process it. It was what put the surreal in life. Hearing someone loved you because they did, because they’d chosen to, not because they shared the same DNA as you, but because they’d observed, studied, and analyzed you, and they’d liked what they’d seen. They’d loved it.
“Do you think you could say that one more time?” I asked, turning my ear. “Just because I wasn’t expecting it and I really want to give myself over to the moment and this time I can at least brace myself for it?” I was rambling. Patrick Hayward was rambling like an idiot. And I didn’t care.
Looking at me, no, seeing me, Emma opened her mouth. “I love—”
I couldn’t wait for the third and final word. I was kissing her again, which felt a lot more like consuming, but it was a joint effort. Pressing against her, we took our kiss horizontal, the mattress molding around her while I held myself above her.
I didn’t want to brace my forearms on either side of her head, but the reminder of her bruised body stayed relatively in the front of my mind when nothing else did, so I held myself just above her, just barely against her.
Minutes passed, the kissing nowhere near cresting, when something that felt a lot like responsibility filtered its way through my male one track mindedness.
“Em?” I whispered, hoarse from our mouth marathon. “There’s one more thing I’m asking, asking, you to do,” I said, rolling onto my side next to her.
She rolled onto her elbow, pressing a peck to my mouth before replying, “What?”
“I need you to be strong,” I began, hoping I’d deliver this with as much strength as softness. “I need you to tell the cops everything. I need you to do what your mom didn’t. I need you to tell them everything Ty ever did to you, down to the last finger he laid on you.”
Against everything I’d prepared myself for, her face didn’t blanch white, her eyes didn’t fill with fear, her shoulders didn’t fall with doubt. Emma had found the strength I’d known was there the whole time.
“And there will probably be a trial, and you’ll have to tell the god-awful story all over again. And I know how hard it will be for you to relive, to admit to strangers you were abused by the person who should have loved you unconditionally, but you need to do this so the SOB gets locked away for awhile and gets a permanent mark on his record.” I ran my thumb down the side of her face, having to dodge bandages and stitches like it was an obstacle course. “So next time he’s raising his hand to the next girl who falls for his act, he’ll think twice. He’ll wonder if this girl is as strong as you are, able to stand up to him. To hold him accountable for his actions.” I kissed the tip of her nose, watching a tear fall on her cheek. I didn’t realize it was mine at first. “Lock him away, Emma. And then I swear to you, he’ll never hold any sway in your life again.”
Her hand slid into the curve of my neck and, somehow, I felt what she was going to say before she said it. “You didn’t need to ask, tell, or demand me to tell my story,” she said, peaceful like I’d never heard her. Peaceful like the silence after a thunder storm in the summer. “I gave Ty too much of my life, and I’m not going to give him any more. I’ll tell everyone on the face of the planet my story if that’s what it takes to be free of him. I don’t even care if he only serves a week. That’s one week he can’t hurt anyone else,” s
he said, inhaling. “I know if I’d had one week without having to live in fear of every moment alone with him, every word I said that could set him off, it would have been like paradise.”
I wanted to kiss her again, I wanted to do more than just kiss her, but I heard the sound I’d been listening for approaching at last. Ty hadn’t wasted any time telling his story, but I’d said what I needed to say and could face what was to come next with a ready heart.
“All right, Em,” I said, pulling her up with me so I could hold her one more time. “The cops are almost here.”
Turning her head, like she was trying to pick up the sirens, she said, “How do you know? I don’t hear a thing.”
“They’re a little over one mile away,” I said, opening Pandora’s box just a crack, just enough to plant the seed so that when I told her everything, that seed would have taken root and could be built upon.
“And you can hear them from a mile away?” There was nothing antagonistic about her voice, just curiosity. Asking for an explanation—one that I couldn’t give at this time of impending arrest.
“I can,” I said, moving right along to my closing point. “When they get here, don’t say a word. Okay? Once we’re gone, go to the nearest police station and make your report.”
“Since I’m a fan of efficiency and convenience, why can’t I just tell these cops, in the comfort of your home, what happened?” she asked, her fingers gripping into my back like she too was already experiencing the separation anxiety I was.
“These cops are coming to arrest a bad guy, not take a domestic violence report from a nice girl,” I said, steering us out of the bedroom because I didn’t want anyone busting down my front doors. “We need empathetic, non-biased cops on our side here and I promise you the ones about to come through that door won’t be.”
She could hear the sirens now—her head whipped towards the door like she was ready for an invasion and tear gas. Ever so slightly, so much so I could barely detect it, she started to tremble.