I speed-chew the last fries in my mouth and force them down. “We?”
My mother tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and nods. So, this is why we’re here? This is about Kevin, not his engineer son or my grades. I’m struck dumb. I can’t think of anything to say, and the fact that she’s clearly waiting for a reaction makes it even harder to find words.
“That’s great, Mom,” I mumble. It’s the best I can do under the circumstances.
“It is, isn’t it?” And her face lights up with this huge smile that sends me back in my seat.
She’s always been beautiful, my mother. And it’s easy to forget that when her features are constantly weighed down by failed relationships, stress at work, or issues with me. Whoever this Kevin guy is, he’s making her happy. That counts for something. It’s practically shining out of her skin. I remember a time ten years ago when that happened. With Peter’s father. Before everything fell apart.
“I just wish you could find someone, too, Emily. Nothing too serious until after you graduate, of course, but still.”
It’s freaky how she would bring that up right at the second I think about Peter. What if it’s a sign? I so badly want to tell her to stop worrying about me. That I think I may have found just the someone I need. Maybe I should. Maybe telling her the truth about me and Peter will finally put an end to her silly blind dates and constant nagging.
So, I take the plunge. “Guess who I ran into yesterday?” She gives me a questioning look. “Peter.” I take some more fries to sell the idea that this is no big deal, but my hands have suddenly started shaking. Why am I so nervous?
“Peter. Peter who?” Her face is totally blank.
“Uh…how many Peters have you shared your home with, Mom?”
She purses her lips tightly, that blank expression now replaced with something closer to anger. And hurt.
I wish I’d never said anything.
“If he’s in Boston, it means that man is here, too.”
That man is how she’s been referring to her ex-husband since the split. I don’t blame her. After what he did to her, he doesn’t deserve the courtesy.
“I wouldn’t know,” I say with a shrug. “He didn’t mention his dad.”
“You spoke to him? I really wish you hadn’t done that, Emily. There’s really no need to drag that kind of garbage back into our lives.”
I clamp my jaw tightly shut and feel the tips of my ears growing warm, the way they do when I get mad. It’s not fair for her to hate Peter because of something his father did. Especially when he’s the total opposite of that horrible man. If she would just give him a chance, I know my mom would really like Peter.
“You know he’s nothing like his father,” I say, taking care not to come across as too angry or defensive.
But my acting skills are clearly lacking, because she fixes me with a strange look I can’t read. I take a sip of my water for no other reason than to have something to hide behind.
“I never liked the way he was with you,” she says.
I nearly choke on a gulp of water and end up spluttering like a fool when I say, “What do you mean? Peter was always great. To both of us.”
“Oh, please. He knew exactly what he was doing—stringing you along like his own personal pet. You forget that he was a lot older than you—”
“Two years isn’t a lot older, Mom.”
“And a blind person could see it, the way you were always fawning over him. Even now, you’re coming to his defense like it’s second nature.”
“Wh—? I never fawned. I don’t fawn.”
“I’m just saying, it was a good thing we cut them out of our lives. You were too young to understand it, but they’re toxic, you hear me? The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, Emily.”
No, I refuse to listen to these things in relation to Peter.
“He was never like that,” I say. “There was no stringing along or—”
“It’s done.” Her voice rises above mine in that stern tone of authority she gets when she means to win an argument. “Let this run-in be what it was and leave it at that. The less we have of those hateful men in our lives, the better.”
I give up. There’s so much hurt and hatred still left in her, even after all these years. Perhaps she’ll get over it. Or she won’t and she’ll live out the rest of her life hating them both, blaming them for what happened to our family. And if that’s the case, where does that leave me? I can’t predict the future, but for now I’m convinced that keeping quiet about Peter and me is the safest option.
That short meal with my mother managed to ruin the rest of my afternoon. My last two classes go by in a blur, and her face when I mentioned Peter is still all I can think about as I set off along University Drive in the direction of the softball field. I always park over at Clark no matter where my classes are on any given day. It’s the one parking lot where I’m guaranteed to find a space.
I’m walking alone since Heather and the gang finished up earlier. They wanted to wait, but my last class was scheduled to end a whole hour later than theirs. And after being my personal escorts all day, I didn’t think it would be fair to ask that of them. Besides, it isn’t that long of a walk anyway, and I’m sticking to the road where there’s always a lot of traffic at this time of day.
Also, Peter will be there.
It’s the main reason I didn’t want my friends with me. Peter had insisted on leaving work early to follow me as I drive back to his place. Just to be sure I’m not being followed by any creepers. There’s something about having private protection from the chief of police.
I really wish my mother knew him the way I do. Or did back then, anyway. Although, from what I’ve seen, he’s become even more of a sweet, caring man. It honestly feels as if no time has passed and things between us are just the same.
For the most part, anyway.
I have to admit it was kind of strange sending him that text when my class ended. Even though I’ve been texting that old number off and on over the years, this time I knew for sure he’d be on the other end. This time I wasn’t texting him as a friend or step-sibling, but as a lover. The idea is so wild, my brain still catches on the word. Lover.
How many nights did my teenage fantasies leave me breathless and aching for him in my childhood bed? And later, years after he was out of my life, how many times did my thoughts drift to him as I slid my hand between my legs?
“Emily!”
Hearing my name so suddenly makes me jump, and I suppose being startled triggers that familiar anxiety in me because my stomach twists into a sickening knot. I’d been walking in such a daze I hadn’t noticed a car slow to a virtual crawl on the road next to me. I don’t recognize the car, but the driver must know me so I bend down to peer through the open window and get a better look.
Just my luck. It’s Trevor.
“Hi!” He smiles and waves, a little too enthusiastically.
I err on the side of politeness and smile back. “Hello.” It’s fake and stiff, but whatever, he nearly bulldozed my best friend earlier today.
“I don’t know if you remember me,” he says, raising his voice so it can carry over the sound of the traffic around us. “I’m Trevor. I used to be in Organic Chem with you until I changed majors.”
“Yeah, I remember. Good to see you.” I straighten up and continue walking. I can see his car out of the corner of my eye. It’s still idling along beside me.
“Want a lift to your car?” He shouts the question.
Ugh, this guy is relentless.
I shout back, “No thank you,” and send another fake smile his way. This time I wave.
As in, goodbye, Trevor. Please leave me alone now.
“You sure? It’s a long walk.” Of course he doesn’t get the message. “I’m heading over to Clark anyway.”
“Really, Trevor, it’s fine. Thanks, though.”
I pick up my pace to get some distance between us, and right before I break into a competition-worthy pow
er walk, he goes racing by at a speed that leaves my hair windswept.
Watching him drive off, a feeling of unease settles over me out of the blue. It makes the knot in my stomach burn. I rub my belly absently as I resume my walk. My mind is racing, trying to remember something it’s forgotten, and I have an idea that it’s connected to the strange way my body’s acting.
Or reacting.
My feet become concrete blocks that refuse to take another step. That’s it. I’m reacting to something.
Want a lift to your car?
How did he know where I was parked? Or that I was on my way to Clark? It feels like someone’s dropped a ton of bricks on my chest, and my breathing becomes shallow and quick.
Emily! I love you!
I will my feet to move with everything I have in me, and break into a run. A pained grunt escapes me as I push even harder. I’m practically sprinting, my ragged breath burning my dry throat.
The floodlights from the softball field come into view and I know I’m close to the parking lot. To Peter. I get a searing stitch in my side that feels like I’m being stabbed with a flaming dagger, but I don’t care about that. And I don’t care about the tears stinging my eyes either. Because I have to get to Peter.
I have to tell him I know who my stalker is.
Chapter Eight
Peter
Emily is a mess when she gets into my car. She seemed fine when she texted me earlier, so I know something must have happened between then and now to have her in such a state.
“Hey, Emily, what’s going on? What happened?” I feel like a helpless loser. All I can do is watch her hyperventilate in my passenger seat, tears streaming down her face.
I put my arm around her and grab ahold of the trembling hands in her lap. Using my thumb, I begin to stroke gentle, soothing circles on her skin. It always feels good to touch her, but seeing her like this is unbearable.
“Please, Emily, talk to me.” I give her hands another squeeze. That’s my way of telling her she’s safe. I’m here now.
It seems to help, and she takes deep, slow breaths to get her panicked breathing under control.
“There, it’s okay. Breathe.” My hand on her shoulder finds its way up to her head, and I move the hair that’s fallen across her face neatly behind her ear.
I let my fingers linger there a while, stroking the curve of her neck. Even in this state, there’s no denying how beautiful she is. It’s almost painful to look at her.
Finally, once she’s calmed down enough to speak, Emily turns to me. Her eyes are shot with red, but she’s not crying anymore.
“Oh, Peter,” she says, her lip trembling with the threat of more tears. They don’t come.
Once again, I’m left in awe of her strength and character. It was one of the things that drew me to her in the first place as a young woman ten years ago.
“Tell me,” I say.
Although there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to hear it. Because I know what she’s about to say. I can wish that she’ll go into a tirade about a bad class, or a friend who upset her over something, but Emily’s not the type to get this worked up about any of those things.
I had a bad feeling about her returning to school right from the start. The risk was just too big with that crazed psychopath still out there. I know that’s the reason. I know he must have done something to her. Oh, God, if he put a finger on her—
“I think I know who it is, Peter.” She swallows hard and her breath catches in her throat.
“What?” Dumbfounded, I can’t think of anything else to say. How could she know? Did he approach her? And if he did, what did he do to her?
My blood is on fire under my skin and I can feel it thudding in my ears. I swear to God, they will have to hold me back once I find this guy.
“At least I—I think I do,” she stammers, shaking her head vigorously. It’s like she’s trying to get her brain to make sense of something and thinks that giving it a good shake will help things along.
“What do you mean, Emily? Did something happen?”
She wipes the remaining wetness from her face with the back of her hand and takes another shaky breath.
“I don’t know.” She looks out the window, anxiously scanning the parking lot. “He has to be watching me. How else did he know? This guy, Trevor—”
“Trevor?” I immediately feel bad for interrupting. But Trevor? That’s probably the least crazy stalker name I’ve ever heard.
“He goes here,” she says. “And I guess we were in Organic Chemistry together, or that’s what he says at least. I don’t really remember.”
“Are you sure?”
She fixes her gaze on me again and I see something dark shift behind her eyes. “I was on my way over here just now, when he pulled up in his car and—” Her eyes fill up again, and I know I have to do something.
“I’m going to get you out of here.”
Letting go of her feels so wrong, but I have to do it. For now. The engine swings to life and I pull out of the lot. He could still be hanging around here. Watching. But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks he’ll get a tail on me. It feels a little like I’m back working the beat. I check my rearview mirror every few seconds for any suspicious activity.
“Did he hurt you?” It pains me to think about it, let alone ask the question, but I need to know.
“No. He didn’t get out of the car.”
“Did you get a look at it? Make and model?” That helplessness from before is gone now. This is my playing field, good old cop work. It’s where I function best.
“I don’t know,” she says again.
“Come on, Emily. Think.” I don’t mean to pressure her, but these details are necessary. They could even be a matter of life and death. “What color was it? Did it have any markings or—?”
“Can you please stop badgering me!” She grabs her head, digging her fingers into her hair.
Shit. Now I feel terrible.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “It’s just really important that you remember what you saw.”
“You think I don’t know that?” She rounds on me, her expression much the same as the one from this morning right before she stormed out of my apartment. “Do you honestly think that I’m just sitting here, deliberately saying I don’t know and I can’t remember for the hell of it? Newsflash, Peter, the one person who wants this sicko put away more than you is me. It’s my life in danger here. I’m the one who could end up getting hurt. I don’t enjoy looking over my shoulder all day, or feeling scared all the time, or being gawked at on the street by creepers in blue Mazdas!”
I glance over to her and her eyes are big and round, her mouth open in shock. She’s just as surprised as I am that the description of the car came out of her mouth like that.
My attention goes back to the road and I smile to myself. “Now that I know getting on your nerves is an efficient way of getting answers, I’m going to be doing it more often. Just a heads up.”
She slaps my arm playfully, and when I look at her, she’s smiling, too.
“The left taillight is out, too.”
“Okay, now you’re just showing off.”
And even though it’s the worst of circumstances, we both start laughing. Because what else is there?
I love how things are so easy between us. That they can go from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye, and back again just as fast. Being with Emily is like being with an old friend. A best friend.
A friend who gets me going with the most innocent of looks.
No, Peter. I focus hard on the road in front of me. Now is definitely not the time to be thinking about sex. No matter how much I want to revisit the taste of her, the way it feels to have her legs wrapped around me. And now that she’ll be staying with me, I don’t know how I’m going to keep my hands to myself. We both have so much going on with school, work, and stalkers that getting distracted is probably the worst possible idea.
And yet.
“I don
’t want to go to your place,” she says.
I’ve just taken the corner a block away from my street.
“Emily, we’ve been over this. You can’t go home. Especially not now.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” She slips her hand over mine on the gear shift.
I have to bite down on the inside of my lip to ignore the sudden twitch in my crotch area. Her touch summons my body to life, whether I choose it or not.
“I don’t think I could stand being cooped up inside right now,” she says.
“So…do you want to grab a bite? We could stop over at—”
“No, please, no food. I had a huge lunch.”
I can’t tell whether the grimace on her face is in relation to the food she ate, or the person she had lunch with.
“I forgot, how did it go?”
“I told her about you.”
“What?” My head snaps around, and for a full three seconds, I forget that I have to be watching the road. “You told her? What did she say? Why would you do that? Was she upset?”
Emily laughs. I love the sound of that laugh. “I didn’t tell her about, you know.” She gets all coy, and it’s the look of hunger in her eyes that forces me to keep my attention on driving.
“So, if not that, then what?”
“I mentioned that I ran into you. And no, she wasn’t all too happy about it.”
I don’t say anything. It was kind of what I expected. I can’t say I blame Trish, really. But damn, it does sting just a little.
“Anyway,” Emily continues. Her voice has an air of nonchalance to it, like she doesn’t care about her mother’s approval at all. “My old woman has a boyfriend now. Kevin. She wants to set me up with his son.” She lets out an amused giggle. “Can you imagine?”
No. I don’t want to imagine. It may be funny to her, but I can’t bear the thought of Emily being with someone else. My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel, but that’s as far as I allow my jealousy to go. I’m not going to be that guy. After all, we’re not dating. Emily is free to see whoever she wants.
Obsessed Page 6
