Untouched: a Cedar Cove Novella

by Melody Grace

  I stand a moment there on the sidewalk, frozen. I know I should leave them. This is none of my business, and God knows, it looks like he’s got enough to deal with, but something about the hollow resignation in his voice and the brisk way he shuffled her out of the diner breaks my heart.

  He’s done this before.

  Before I can stop myself, I open the cab door and scramble up beside Dawn in the passenger seat. Emerson looks over, his mouth dropping open in shock to see me here.

  “I’m coming with you.” I say breathlessly. “I can help.”

  Emerson scowls at me. “Get out of my truck.”

  “No.” I reply, amazed at my sudden bravery. “I’m coming. I can help.”

  He glares at me, fierce. “We don’t need your help.”

  “Well tough, you’re getting it.” I snap my seatbelt on, and then help fasten one around Dawn. She’s sitting limply between us, crying softly like she’s got no energy left. “Go on, drive.”

  Emerson stares at me another moment, his jaw clenched, then starts the engine. He drives angry through town, taking the corners too fast so I have to hold Dawn up against me to stop her slipping against her belt.

  I don’t dare tell him to slow down. I still can’t believe I demanded he take me with them, I just know somehow, deep down, I can’t let him go through this alone. Even if he’s a stranger to me, even if hates me for it, nobody should have to go through this alone.

  I should know.

  Emerson takes us a little ways out of town, pulling up outside a squat, small bungalow half-hidden in the woods. It’s an old, run-down home in desperate need of repairs, but as I follow him to the front porch, I can see that the lawn is freshly mown, and there’s a fresh coat of paint on the door.

  The small details make my heart twist: the sad evidence of someone desperately trying to keep things together.

  We carry Dawn inside. I expect Emerson to kick me out or tell me to leave now, but instead, it’s like he’s given up on getting rid of me. When I send him to make some coffee, he obeys without a word, disappearing while I run a hot bath, and feed Dawn some aspirin and a glass of water. She sits, red-eyed in her underwear in the water. She’s zoned-out now, limp as a rag-doll as I wrap her in a robe and settle her on the bed in the master bedroom. She curls into a ball, ignoring everything.

  On the bedside table, there’s a photograph in a cheap plastic frame. It must have been taken years ago, because it takes me a second to recognize Dawn, bright-eyed and smiling. She’s got a new baby in her arms, and another blonde toddler in her lap, and standing shyly beside her is a dark-haired boy I can’t believe is Emerson. I look closer. The edge of the photograph is ragged, as if someone’s been torn out of the shot.

  The sound of Dawn’s breathing beside me slows, so I put the photograph back and cautiously wander out into the living room, still bracing myself for Emerson’s anger. The house is empty, but I see a flash of movement out in the yard, so I pull the screen door back and step outside.

  Emerson is pacing in the back yard, a beer bottle in his hands. The sun is setting, and his features are shadowed in the dim light. I feel a flutter of nerves, but push them down, waiting for him to say something. Anything at all.

  Nothing.

  “She’s sleeping now.” I break the silence. “She should be better in the morning.”

  “Better?” Emerson turns, spitting the word back at me. His face is still etched with anger, his eyes clouded and bleak. “How can you say that?” He demands, coming closer. “What the hell are you even doing here?”

  “You needed me.” My response is quiet and trembling.

  “Yeah? How?” Emerson roars. “What the fuck do you know about any of this?” he demands, furious.“You’re just some pampered brat with a beach house! What gives you the right to come into our lives, and act like you know a damn thing about it?”

  “Because I know!” I yell back, my frustration finally boiling over. “Because I’ve had to scrape my daddy off the floor more times than I can count. You think I haven’t been here?” I demand, advancing on Emerson. I shove at his chest, sending him reeling back. “You think I don’t know what it’s like, getting the call to come pick him up, because he’s passed out in the back room somewhere, choking on his own vomit? Believe me, I’ve seen it all.” I spit, hollow from years trying to keep the truth from Mom. “So quit acting like I’m the one to blame here, when all I wanted to do was help!”

  EMERSON

  I stare at Juliet as her words sink in.

  She’s standing right in front of me, those beautiful lips parted with anger, her fists clenched by her sides. Even if she hadn’t just told me all of that, I would know the truth from the look of dark bitterness in her eyes.

  She knows. She’s been here. She’s damaged, just like me.

  I let out a long breath, and feel the tension slip from my body. In a flash, I realize. I don’t have to pretend anymore.

  “You know.” I say quietly.

  She nods, sympathy softening her face. “Your mom’s in withdrawal,” she answers softly. “She’s coming down. She’s shaking, and emotional, she’s trying to fight it, but the craving’s too strong. What is it, meth? Painkillers?”

  I look away, but she keeps talking.

  “She’ll get through the worst of it soon,” Juliet adds, taking a step towards me. “But you’ve got to be kinder. She needs your support.”

  “She had it.” My voice comes out twisted. “The last time, and the time before that. You think I haven’t seen this before?” I ask her, hopeless. “You think I haven’t tried to be gentle, and help her. But it’s always the same. There’ll always be another guy coming around with her fix, and she’ll always go back to it. Nothing I do will make a damn bit of difference.”

  I sag back against the porch. I hate that she’s seen this, seen the worst of my life huddled and weeping in a bathroom stall, but part of me is relieved too.

  She’s still here, after all. She could have left us, any time she wanted, but instead, she came with me.

  She stayed.

  “Oh, Emerson…” Juliet breathes my name like a prayer. I feel a movement, and then she’s standing beside me, leaning against the porch railing looking out at the darkening woods.

  I close my eyes a minute, wishing that this could all go away. That we could be anywhere but here: on this run-down porch, with my addict of a mom passed out in the next room.

  Then she shifts, and her body presses against my side.

  It’s just a moment. Just a touch. But that brief heat of her skin against mine sends the anger melting away, replacing it with a small wave of calm. A light, in all my endless dark.

  “How long?” Juliet asks softly.

  “Years, off and on.” I shrug, picking at the label of my beer. The words catch in my throat. It feels weird to be telling her this, when I’ve spent so long trying—and failing—to hide it from the world. But I know somehow, she won’t judge me like everyone else in this town. She won’t whisper under her breath, and turn away. It gives me the strength to keep talking, to try and explain.

  “I don’t even know when it started, I just know when she couldn’t handle it anymore. I was fifteen,” I add. “There was a douche of a boyfriend, and then he was gone, and she fell to pieces.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  It’s just a simple phrase, people use it all the time. I’m sorry I ran into you, bro. I’m sorry I was late. But when I glance over at Juliet’s face, so pale and determined there beside me, I can tell, she means it more than anything.

  She doesn’t even know me, and still, she wants better for me.

  It takes my breath away.

  “What about you?” I ask, awkward. “Your dad…”

  Juliet shakes her head, a sharp motion. “It’s nothing like this. Most of the time, he can keep it together. Nobody notices,” she adds in a small voice. “Mom pretends… she just keeps pretending. And the rest of them…” She exhales. “They don’t see. It’s hi
s thing, you know: the life of the party, always having a good time. If he was passed out with a cheap quart of vodka, maybe they’d see, but it’s like, because he’s getting wasted on expensive wines at dinner, it doesn’t even matter. Like I shouldn’t care.”

  “That’s bullshit.” I say fiercely. “It matters.”

  Juliet looks down, her pale face shadowed with years of sadness and resignation. I feel anger surge through me, a primal force. Right now, I want nothing more than to hunt her father down and beat him bloody for putting her through this, for taking her precious beauty and filling it with pain.

  “I used to wonder, if it was my fault.” She whispers, glancing up to meet my eyes. “If I tried harder to make them see he had a problem. If he loved me enough to quit—“

  I reach for her, grabbing her by both arms. “You know it’s not your fault?” I demand urgently. “You can’t save him, not if he won’t save himself.”

  Her eyes widen, and suddenly I realize I’m holding her close, her body just inches away from mine, my hands digging into her soft skin.

  I freeze.

  Juliet blinks at me, not moving. Her soft lips are parted, and everything in my body screams at me to kiss her: to capture that sweet mouth with mine, pull her closer, ravage her until that pain is gone from her expression and she can’t even remember her own name.

  I fight it with everything I have. This is all wrong, I know. To want her, now, after everything we’ve just shared. Knowing her story, understanding what she’s been through. If she knew I was imagining those lips on mine, those eyes half-shut as I trail kisses down her soft throat… She’d think I was an animal, probably turn and walk away from me for good.

  I should be used to it by now—people leaving. Hell, I’ve done my share of goodbyes. But the thought of Juliet being the one to turn away… I don’t know why, but just the idea sends a bolt of pain through me, sharp enough to cut through my lust.

  I force myself to let go of her, and take a half-step back.

  Something flashes across Juliet’s face, almost like disappointment. Then her gaze drops to my lips, lingering there.

  Blood rushes through me with fierce heat.

  She wants me.

  My self-control is obliterated. I reach for her again, and this time, I don’t stop. I grab her around her waist and shove her up against the railing, my lips finally crashing down on hers in the searing kiss I’ve wanted ever since the first moment I saw her face.

  She’s heaven.

  Juliet melts into my arms, arching up into me as if she was made to fit against my body. She tastes of candy, and sweet summer strawberries; her hands reaching up to clasp around my neck as she kisses me back with a wild, naïve abandon.

  Jesus.

  I plunge my tongue deeper in her mouth, tangling my fingers in the silk of her dark hair. Blood pounds through me, blotting out the world. Everything fades away under the wild chemistry blazing between our bodies. There’s nothing but her, and me, and the softness of her curves pressed up against me, sending dark, wild thoughts tearing through my mind.

  She lets out a breathy moan, and I feel myself harden. Wanting her. Needing her. I grab her thighs and lift, pressing back against the porch as she wraps her legs around my waist. I reclaim her mouth, kissing her with everything I have as my hands rove across her body, stroking and squeezing at the miles of soft skin and her peach of an ass, round and perfect through her cut-off shorts.

  Juliet presses her breasts against my chest, and I buck against her, the friction between us driving me crazy. She’s still kissing me like her life depends on it, but I pull back, holding her in place as I catch my breath.

  I need to see her.

  God, she’s beautiful. Her eyes are half-closed, dazed by desire. Her skin is flushed pink, and she’s gasping for breath, reaching for me, pulling me back down to kiss her.

  With a groan, I surrender.

  It’s like nothing I’ve felt before, the desire breaking over us. A tidal wave, a force of nature. Every other girl, all those drunken nights, they melt away under her eager touch and the sweet taste of her mouth, taking me far away from everything. Wiping the slate clean.

  This is what I was made for, I think through the haze. This girl. These lips. This body.

  Only her.

  Desire comes over me like a hurricane, and now I can't hold it back. My hands are everywhere. Wanting to feel all of her. Lose myself in the taste of her sweetness, and the soft silk of her skin; the way her body shudders under my hands, and the sound of her gasps, ragged in her throat as I bury my face in the nape of her neck and run my tongue over the sensitive hollow of her throat.

  I yank down the strap of her tank top and run kisses over the pale skin of her shoulder. Juliet makes a noise, part whimper, part moan.

  Sweet Jesus.

  I thrust closer, her body so soft and willing against me. Only the thin layer of our clothes is separating us. I feel the heat, blazing through her clothes, and all I can think about is tearing them off her and burying myself inside her, right here on the porch under the sunset sky. Plunging into her over and over until she's wordless and crying out my name—

  "Emerson?"

  A door slams, and then I hear a call, but it's like I'm underwater. I don't stop, too far gone in the glory of Juliet's body. I kiss her mouth again, desperate to stay here, safe in her arms, where nothing is bad, or dark, or broken, and the real world doesn't exist.

  "Is anyone home? Oh, shit."

  Juliet breaks away from me with a yelp as I finally register the voice. A familiar voice. My sister.

  "Brit!" I roar, not turning. Juliet is scrambling to pull her shirt back up, cheeks burning red.

  "Sorry!" I can hear the laughter in Brit’s voice. "I didn't know you had, uh, company."

  I'm still panting, blood roaring in my ears, but I manage to get my hard-on under control and turn. My sister is standing with her hands on her hips: five foot and fifteen years of trouble.

  I sigh. "Brit, this is Juliet." I reach for her, to reassure her it’s ok, but she ducks away from me across the porch, not meeting my eyes.

  "Hi." Brit narrows her eyes as she takes in Juliet. I can tell what she's thinking, I've never brought a girl home before. We don't have people over. Ever. It's an unspoken rule of the house, a way for us to contain the damage. Contain mom.

  Juliet doesn't reply, she just mumbles, staring at the ground. "I, um, should go." She finally blurts, then takes off for the door.

  She leaves without looking at me, without saying goodbye. I feel a bitter wave of disappointment crash through me.

  I fucked it up.

  Just like I always do. I drove her away. I had her in my arms, and I ravaged her like some fucking animal. Oh god, she must hate me now.

  "Emerson." I look back. Brit is watching me with a concerned look on her face. "Em, are you ok? I'm sorry I barged in," she adds quickly. "But the door was open, and--"

  "It's not your fault." I tell her gruffly. The words catching my throat, and I stride inside, slamming the door behind me.

  The fault is mine. It's always mine.

  JULIET

  He kissed me.

  No, Emerson didn't just kiss me, he consumed me. He devoured me. And I couldn't get enough.

  I lay in bed all night awake, replaying the kiss over and over in my mind. The feel of his body, rock hard against me, the relentless sweet plunge of his tongue in my mouth. I shiver, heat pooling through my body, my skin prickling with awareness just at the thought of him.

  It's too hot in here, I can't breathe.

  That's because he took your breath away.

  I leap up, crossing to the window and open it wide. The night air is cool and refreshing, but it's still not enough to soothe me. My whole body feels swollen, my breasts aching, my thighs tight. I strip off my oversize T and slip back between the sheets, naked under the cool cotton. I feel it slide against my body, cool where his hands had been so hot, and my stomach trembles all over again.
/>
  God, but that man can kiss.

  I lay back, eyes shut, remembering the look in his eyes when he reached for me, the dark intensity that turned me molten inside. Even now, I feel a shock of electricity spark down my body, imagining him right here under the covers next to me. His touch. His lips. His hands...

  And then I remember the expression on his sister’s face when she found us together, and the rush of shame is so bad I have to roll under my pillows and silently scream with embarrassment.

  What the hell was I thinking? I'd known the guy all of eight hours, and I was this close to pulling him down on the hard wooden porch and giving him my virginity right then and there, to hell with the consequences. What must he think of me? Nothing good, that’s for sure: he didn’t even try to come after me, or get my number, or even ask to see me again.

  And why would he? A small voice of doubt whispers. I was crazy. I was possessed. I was acting like a stranger, like some girl I didn't even know.

  My thoughts whirl around my head all night, but as I finally drift into sleep, I realize the strangest part of the whole thing, why despite all my insecurities and disbelief, I feel a warm glow bathe my whole body. Because the truth is I didn't feel like a different person. When I was holding Emerson, kissing him, aching for his touch... I've never felt more like myself. Juliet. The girl inside of me.

  I was free.

  When I wake the next morning, Emerson’s kisses feel like a dream. A dangerous, tempting dream. I push the lingering memories away and leap out of bed, determined that despite my moment of total madness last night, I’m not going to fall to pieces over this guy—no matter how drop-dead gorgeous he is, or how his kisses undo me. I’m not going to spend the rest of my summer obsessing over him like some lovesick puppy, riding by his house, or hanging out in town panting for just one glance.

  I could be just another in a long line of summer kisses; one of the millions of girls a guy like that must have waiting. I don’t know what he wants from me, and I sure as hell don’t know what I want from him.

  Except to kiss him until the world ends.