by Mason, V. F.
“I’m sure,” I told him, and we locked in another kiss while the panic in me settled a bit. His heart beating strongly under my palm and his warmth enveloping me in a cocoon made me believe that our future was possible.
And no one had the power to break it.
But it lasted only five seconds, until the tap on the window startled us and we saw Sheriff Duke standing there with two police vehicles. Their red lights lit the street brightly, directing all the attention on us.
“Get out of the car, guys,” he ordered, and we followed, never seeing him this serious about anything.
Once we were facing him, he clicked his fingers to one of the officers who exhaled heavily, but joined us nevertheless.
Brochan asked, “What’s going on, Duke?” The sheriff was one of the coolest guys I knew in the town, always taking care of his citizens and supporting guys like Brochan with special programs.
He always joked for us to not give him a reason to put us behind bars, because he caught us kissing several times. Lately though, he’d lost part of his easygoing nature after his daughter was in a car accident, and the surgeries were too expensive for the family to handle. The whole town tried to help him, but so far, it had been useless.
“The entire town is searching for her. Her folks are back, demanding to see her. I’m sorry, kiddo.”
Brochan’s brows furrowed, and I looked between them, fear building inside me. “For what?” That was when a second officer put handcuffs on him, locking them firmly on his wrists. “Are you insane, Duke? We didn’t do anything!” Brochan shouted, but the sheriff just shook his head.
“She turned eighteen today, which means last night when she was with you she was underage. If they say so, I have to keep you.”
“I was with him of my own free will!” Just as I predicted, my parents used the power of the law to handle this situation. Did I expect anything else from my father, the judge?
“Ron will take you home. Talk to your parents so I can let the kid go. Okay?” he ordered, and I nodded while turning to Brochan, hugging him closer.
“I’m so sorry. I’m going to fix it. You are not going to stay there for long.”
“Don’t agree to anything, okay? Do not make hasty decisions just to save me,” he warned me, right before we shared a kiss. “Promise me, Em.”
“I promise,” I said right before Duke separated us, and I hopped in the car, ready to unleash hell and fury on my parents so they would let him go and not ruin his life.
Back then, I felt like the world had ended.
If I only knew what awaited us after that, I wouldn’t have been so dramatic in that moment.
Island, United States
July 2019
Emerald
“So her parents were against the union. Sort of like Romeo and Juliet?” I ask myself out loud, drinking my tea and scratching my face. “So that’s why you are star-crossed lovers.”
Actually, all this plot development makes me one hell of a happy person, because it means it’ll end soon. Because really. Her parents will object, then see the error of their ways, and happily ever after happens.
So my heroine is sad for no reason.
Or so I hope at least.
My phone vibrates next to me and I grin, seeing Kaden’s number flashing on the screen. I quickly accept it, teasing, “I thought you promised not to bother me for a month.” After he “allowed” me to go, he kept brooding through all the months and didn’t even show up for our weekly meetings on Sunday.
Despite his protectiveness that shadowed me everywhere, he lived in a mansion located on the outskirts of the city, and I visited only once, only because his butler Levi insisted. Kaden gave me the apartment our parents bought for us, because according to the papers, they left it all for me along with a trust fund that I can access once I turn thirty.
Shortly after, I sold the penthouse in Manhattan and bought a two-bedroom condo in Brooklyn that was closer to my job, and I liked the cozy little place way more than the spacious apartment. It wasn’t like I had many friends to invite over. Just a few good acquaintances from my art class, like Frankie who became a famous designer, and Ariel, the keyboard player of a famous rock band. We’ve met from time to time, but mostly I spent my time either painting or teaching kids.
Thinking back on it now, my life is very boring. But then, how reckless can I be with all my health issues?
“Your humor is not welcomed right now.” His voice holds nothing but coldness, and I burst out laughing, some of the heaviness leaving my chest.
“Kaden Scott, are you implying you miss me?”
“Based on what, did you come to such a conclusion?” He pauses, and then says, “But yes. How are you?”
“I’m good,” I reply quickly, too quickly, and I curse inwardly at his next question.
“You don’t say? Why are you nervous, Emerald?”
Shit, hiding anything from Kaden is impossible. He knows people too well; it’s as if he spends his time studying human nature. When, in fact, he’s a businessman who owns a lot of stuff. I think he is worth billions currently.
“I’m not. Just tired. I’ve been working all day.” Which is the truth.
Sort of.
After Eve’s cafe, I walked around the town a bit and came back to the inn, where Marcy tempted me to try their mashed potatoes and fish. I ended up ordering them to my room where I’ve spent the last seven hours writing.
“It’s eleven at night for your information,” I add. Kaden operates on weird hours, always awake in the middle of the night but also the first one to wake up. Sometimes his unwillingness to share much about his life or never meeting his friends irritates me, but I don’t push.
He is the best big brother in the world, always being there for me after the accident, so I refuse to be curious. As long as he’s okay, his life is his business.
“Yet you are awake,” he replies. I step onto the balcony, basking in the light breeze that touches my cheeks. “Do you have any headaches?”
“Some. But I’m taking my medication.”
“Maybe try not to.”
My brows furrow, and I straighten my back. “What do you mean? You know I have nightmares without it.” He was the one to insist I take it.
“I think you’re ready,” he says cryptically, and I’m even more confused.
“Ready for what?”
“For the truth.” I can’t even question his statement, because he’s done with the call. “I’ll call you in a few days. Don’t worry, Em. No one is going to hurt you. You are under my protection.”
Staring at my phone, I try to make sense of this, and as always, I fail. I feel like a complete idiot, who wanders around the place not knowing what to do or say, because everyone around me keeps secrets or continues to throw odd sentences at me.
All thoughts about my problems fly away though when I notice an old woman hurriedly going to the beach, and she screams something I can’t make out. But it’s obvious by her swaying and posture she’s not all right.
And she’s moving right toward the ocean! I snatch off my huge glasses, which allow me to see properly, wiping away the sweat from under them. “Oh no,” I murmur, and rush out of the room, hopping down the stairs to the first floor and darting through the main door, just as Marcy calls, “Emerald!”
The time spent for explaining might be wasted. I need to save her before something happens.
I run and run, noticing the shadow far away, already in the ocean, and I add speed, breathing heavily, while determination unlike anything rushes through my veins.
This woman has to be saved.
I reach her right in time as she’s about to sink neck deep into the water, so I wrap my hands around her middle and pull her back, my actions not even registering in me. Fear of water is no longer an issue when someone else is in danger.
I pull her and pull her, as she continues to scream, “There. It’s there.” Oh my God, what is there?
When we get back to the sh
ore, she freezes in my arms, then spins around, and our gazes clash. My breath hitches.
Her emerald green eyes could be a reflection of mine they are so alike; she looks at me with wonder and shock. She covers her mouth with her wrinkled hand that showcases every vein due to her thinness, and her silver locks fly around us. She seems painfully familiar, but I don’t know why.
She palms my head, rubbing my cheeks, as she whispers, “My little girl.” Her fingers trail over my forehead, brows, nose, and lips. “My beautiful little girl.” She starts crying, circling her arms around me and holding me so tight for a second I can’t breathe.
Or stop my own tears from falling.
Her scent disturbs me, reminding me of something I can’t quite name. A sense of deep loss is present in my chest, and I feel devasted.
“I’m so sorry for not being strong enough.” She leans back, sobbing, and I shake my head, because whatever she thinks she’s guilty of can’t be true.
“Nona.” The deep voice from behind me speaks, stilling my heart before it starts rapidly beating again. “Come here.”
“Micaden, my little girl came back.” She gives me a teary smile. “Look how beautiful she is. Isn’t she?”
Nona. As in his grandmother who has Alzheimer’s?
She probably lost her way and has confused me with someone else from her past, a granddaughter. “Micaden is here too. Full circle,” she speaks to me, hugging me again, but then she lets go when Micaden pulls her toward him. “It’s not her, Nona.”
“No, Micaden, she’s our girl.”
“No, Nona. Remember what we always talk about?” Her gaze stays blank, but then slowly the smile drops from her face and sadness comes back. She nibbles on her finger and nods. “Yes. My little girl is not here.”
I see some men joining us who address Micaden. “We are so sorry. She snuck out through the backdoor during the barbecue. We noticed she was missing almost immediately.” Yeah, right. Yet she had time to come here and do all that.
Immediately my ass.
“I’m tired,” she suddenly says. “I wanna go back now.” She pats my shoulder. “Thank you.” And then she willingly goes to the men who nod at Micaden and trail off with her.
An awkward silence falls between us, and I don’t wish to prolong it. Shivers rush through me, causing goose bumps on my skin, and my teeth chatter against each other, because the breeze touching my wet clothes is unbearable.
I blink in surprise when he orders, “Raise your arms.”
“What?” I rasp, my teeth still clacking.
“Raise your arms,” he repeats, and like the fool that I am, I follow his command blindly. He removes my summer dress with one swift move, causing me to gasp. “What are you doing? Are you insane?” Granted, I have a bikini underneath, because I planned to go to the beach earlier, but still.
He ignores me and instead pulls the back of his black T-shirt over his head and puts it on me. The cloth slides over my body, settling right in the middle of my thighs. “This should keep you warm.”
I glare at him. “In case you haven’t noticed, my bikini is wet too, so the shirt is soaked already.” I sound bitchy and all, but I don’t care. The guy hasn’t been nice either.
“A simple thank you would have been enough.”
Furious at his comeback, I intend to march to the hotel, only to cry out in pain as I take the first two steps. “Ouch, ouch.” I hop on one leg, my other one raised as pain travels from my calf to my foot like an electric wave.
Next thing I know, I’m in Micaden’s arms since he picks me up effortlessly. My face is pressed to his chest and his heartbeat echoes in my ear. His arms are around my back and under my knees, and despite the pain, I feel the heat from them putting my body on high alert.
Just kill me now, seriously.
The warmth of his body slips into my bones, and slowly heat spreads inside me, and my teeth stop chattering. He continues to walk, I assume back to the inn, not uttering one word.
Maybe he has knight-in-shining-armor syndrome; he’s ready to help a stranger, but to actually interact with one is another story.
Exhaustion overtakes me, and I doze off on his chest, lulled by the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks.
At least that’s what I think, because I don’t recognize the jellyfish sting or the fact that I simply fainted.
Micaden
Forgiveness.
A concept of moving on with your life, forgetting all the bad shit that has happened to you and accepting it at face value.
Some people are generous enough to give it.
And probably they are right for doing so.
But I can’t.
I can never forgive her for what she has done.
Because with her choices and lies, she destroyed my life.
And everyone who I held dear to my heart.
Chapter Eleven
From the pages of the book…
Slamming the door of the car loudly, I rushed to the house, flying past a concerned Nona who just sighs heavily. I ended up in the living room where my parents were.
Dad stood by the window with his back to me, slowly sipping something, probably black coffee that always allowed him to function, or so he claimed. Mom sat on the couch, flipping through a magazine, while her tears glistened in the morning sun. Both wore perfectly tailored suits, matching each other’s colors.
Nothing but the best for the Hayes family.
“You finally graced us with your presence, Emerald,” my father said, taking another sip, and Mom raised her eyes to me, sweeping her loving gaze over me.
“Darling, you’re back.” She put the magazine aside and stood up, opening her arms wide, waiting for me to step into them.
“Call the police, Dad,” I said, not seeing the point of dancing around the subject as if nothing had happened.
Mom’s smile slipped a little, but she took the step toward me and hugged me close despite my stubbornness. Instantly, her rich perfume enveloped me and I sighed, because even if they acted horribly right now, I knew they loved me.
In their own twisted, cold way. And Mom always had the tendency to stay oblivious to any shit storm that brewed around her, even if Dad and I fought. In all the years, I’d never seen her interfere in anything.
She just permanently kept a neutral position.
Leaning back, I allowed Mom to pat my head, and she clacked her tongue. “All this time in the sun made your freckles more visible,” she chastised me lightly, patting my cheek this time. “You probably didn’t use cream like I told you to.”
Removing myself from her embrace, I addressed Dad once again. “Call the police, Dad.”
Finally, he spun around, his brow raised as he put his cup on the table and motioned for me to come closer. “I don’t think that’s the proper way to greet your father, Emerald.”
Stubbornness along fear fought for dominance, but I remembered Brochan’s cuffed hands and succumbed to his request, walking slowly to him. “We did nothing wrong, Dad. He’s my boyfriend.”
“So my mother told me. A fact that I may add was hidden from us. Do you think we don’t care who our daughter dates?” Maybe I was wrong, and it was the protective instinct within him that demanded he save me. After all, I’d never had boyfriends before, even though I went on dates. Fathers could be less than thrilled about such stuff.
Maybe I misjudged my parents, and if I explained it right, they might change their minds.
He locked his arms around my waist, squeezing me in his hug for a moment before continuing. “You don’t answer your phone. Your instructor told us you haven’t sent her anything new in weeks. Then, when we come here in the middle of the night, you are nowhere to be found and once again ignore our phone calls. Do you think we as parents have no right to be worried?”
Yeah, my dad wasn’t a judge for nothing. He sure knew how to destroy his opponents by throwing reasonable facts at them. “You’re right. I did it all wrong,” I admitted, seeing the stup
idity of my ways. I should have been a grown up and come clean with everything. “And I apologize for making you worry and for omitting the truth.”
“Lying,” he said, and I took a deep breath, nodding in agreement.
“And lying. But all this doesn’t change the fact that Brochan is now at the police station because of this misunderstanding. Let him go, Dad.”
“I ran a report on him.” He ignored my words, picking up the manila folder from the table. “He was orphaned at the age of three, left on the church’s doorstep. Then several families took him in, but he was a difficult child. Until his foster father who happens to be a fisherman and owns a car shop here took him under his wing, and he settled into life here once the wife died.” His voice was calm and matter-of-fact without a single emotion, and the familiar fear came back to me as I listened to his words. “So-so grades in school although he could have applied for a scholarship. Apparently, he’s considered gifted in mathematics. But that’s about all. He works as a fisherman and mechanic. Makes around one grand a month and shares an apartment with his best friend and one other guy.” He clicked his fingers, like he forgot something. “Sometimes he makes extra money by helping out dragging fish guts. Is all this information correct?” he asked, and I nodded, because what else was there to do?
“Well, he seems like a hard-working man,” Mom applauded cheerfully while Nona stood in the corner, shaking her head. “No matter what life gave him, he managed to do all right.”
“That’s true. Good for him,” Dad agreed with her, but then shifted his focus back to me. “So this is the boy you love?”
“Enough with this nonsense, Eric!” Nona shouted, standing between us as she poked his chest. “Let the boy go and forget all about this incident. Right now.”
“Now you are interfering.” He lightly pushed her to the side so he could look at me again. “If you stopped it in the beginning, none of this mess would have happened.”
