Unraveling Emily (Valla Series Book 1)

by Anna Rezes

  thirteen

  The dim lawn is flickering with hundreds of fireflies tempting the child within to chase and catch the lightning bugs instead of joining the others on the beach. Unable to resist, I grab a flash of light as we walk. I open my hand just as the bulb glows on my palm and in a second, it’s airborne again. The dusk is turning to dark, but the sky is clear, and the glowing moon shows us the way to Nellie, Noah, and Julie already gathered on the beach. They welcome us as we arrive.

  A wave of apprehension flows through me as Tom walks toward us through the dark. I feel like an intruder in his midst.

  “Don’t worry about it, love. They want you here,” Patrick’s voice croons in my ear, startling me.

  I gasp, and Morgan looks at me in surprise. I shake my head and wave away a pretend bug to nullify her concern. We settle down on the blanket spread out across the ground. When Tom joins us, he gives me a welcoming smile, and I feel an enormous comfort from the small gesture.

  “It will be a treat to sit back and watch,” Tom says, as he sits down next to his wife. “I’m so glad Patrick offered to do them this year.”

  An explosion of sound erupts, and I’m awed by the brilliant kaleidoscope of colors filling the sky over the lake. We all enjoy the spectacular show with a round of applause after the big finale. Once the clapping subsides, the silence is deafening as we adjust to the stillness. The smell of smoke drifts through the air, reminding me of past years remembered. I’m staring over the water when his voice manifests in my head again, this time not as startling.

  “So, what did you think?” Patrick’s voice is so arrogant I can practically hear his smirk.

  I answer silently, feigning disinterest, “I guess it was okay.”

  “Ouch,” he replies.

  I smile, proud of myself. I hope I knocked him down a peg or at the very least wiped the cocky grin from his face. I look up and realize Tom is watching me with curiosity. My smile dies as I wonder if he too is able to hear my thoughts.

  The conversation begins to pick up around me, but I’m caught up worrying about all the things in my life that are out of my control. I keep my eyes on the water until I hear the smooth voice from behind me.

  “So, what did you guys think?” Patrick says.

  “It was amazing! It was so professional! I loved it!” They all shout at once. I’m the only one to remain silent. I look up and am surprised to see he doesn’t look smug at all. Instead, he’s wearing a big toothy grin. He looks younger, innocent, and genuinely excited.”

  It’s heartwarming to discover I’m in the middle of a happy family moment belonging in a frame on a wall—the kind that hasn’t existed in my life for far too long. I glance around this loving family, and the smile slips from my face. The pain of what I’ve been missing all these years threatens to strangle me. I don’t belong here. I feel more alone here surrounded by people than if I were actually alone. I want to go home. I have to get away from here.

  “Hey, I’m gonna go back to the house for a minute,” I say to Morgan. She gives a questioning look. “Bathroom,” I say, as an explanation.

  She nods in understanding. “Do you want me to walk with you?”

  “Nope, I’ll be right back.”

  There is a chill in the breeze, or maybe it’s the chills emanating from my sunburn. I put on my sweater as I walk past Patrick and Noah.

  Though the house isn’t far, the trip seems to take forever. Chatter and roaring laughter from the group by the lake fills the air. The sound sends an aching so deep within my heart; I swear I hear it crack and fear I’m bleeding internally. As I enter the house, I immediately shut the door behind me blocking out the noise.

  It’s silent in the house except for the low hum of the air conditioner. I take a deep breath, but the pain I feel is debilitating. I hide in the bathroom around the corner. As soon as the door closes, my knees buckle, and I slide down the wall onto the floor. I want to cry, but no tears come. No tears ever come. I squeeze my eyes tight willing away this all-consuming grief.

  Morgan’s family is too much of a reminder of what my family should look like—what it would look like if my mom wouldn’t have left all those years ago. I always blamed her sickness for the splintering of our family, but now I don’t know what to believe. Dad’s explanation has shattered everything I thought I knew. Should I feel responsible for the absence of my mom? Was I the reason for all of the pain and suffering?

  My sister is the only one who escaped the tragedy in one piece. I know our dad loves us, but he never really recovered. That’s why he buries himself in his work. All the late nights and business trips are an excuse to put off coming home to the house that reminds him of everything he lost. On top of that, I know he hasn’t forgiven himself for committing me to the psych ward after my mom’s death. And maybe it’s petty, but I’ve never been able to forgive him either. It’s another taboo we never discuss.

  My only crime was grieving like any child who lost her mother. I cried and sobbed until my tears dried up and I became detached—unable to comprehend the loss—but feeling sad and alone. I never want to go back to that place, so I learned to hide my emotions, bottling my sadness up so tight I didn’t know how to cry anymore.

  So that leaves me here, locked in a friend’s bathroom, crumpled on the floor feeling altogether despondent and unable even to weep. I haven’t shed a tear since I cried myself to sleep that first night at the hospital five years ago.

  I take breaths to calm myself in the midst of my panic attack, fighting my innate urge to run. Tomorrow I will have to go home and face my dad. I need to understand why he lied to me. It’s killing me to be angry with him, but I feel so betrayed.

  I know I can’t stay locked in this bathroom all evening, so I scrape myself up off the floor. I splash water on my face and it stings against my cheeks. The mirror reflects the extent of sunburn painted across my face and chest. My hair is a shade lighter from today’s sun exposure, and my eyes are a brighter shade of green against the redness of my skin.

  I step out of the bathroom and stumble when I see Patrick sitting in a wingback chair in the corner of the room. He’s leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees and his fingers steepled. I look around but don’t see or hear anyone else. He looks at me with his dark blue eyes overflowing with worry.

  I take a tentative step into the room, asking, “What are you doing in here?”

  “I was worried about you.”

  “Why?”

  “I felt your pain,” he says, as he rises from the chair.

  “I’m fine.”

  He’s not buying it. “You’re not fine. Like I told you before, you’re great at fooling everyone else, but you cannot deceive me.”

  As he drifts towards me, I hear myself say, “Everyone’s so happy. I didn’t want to infect them.”

  He closes the distance between us, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into him. I attempt to push away, but he holds me tight. It doesn’t take long for me to stop pretending that I don’t want him close. I need the closeness, so I hug him back, and his head comes down to rest on mine.

  He whispers, “I’m so sorry, Emily.”

  I take a staggering breath and my knees tremble. If not for his arms holding me together, I would fall to the floor and shatter like a china doll. I hold him tighter allowing his calm to envelop me. His warmth sends heat radiating into my body. It feels especially hot against my sunburn. We stay this way for several long moments before I gain enough strength to stand on my own.

  Feeling enormously grateful, I give him a genuine smile once we separate. Breaking the silence, I say, “Your eyes are back to normal.”

  “Yes, and yours are looking fairly bright as well.”

  “You mean next to my burning red flesh,” I laugh.

  He shakes his head. “You’re not burnt.”

  “Maybe your eyes aren’t back to normal,” I tease.

  “Look.” He gestures to my body.

  The red on my legs has faded
into a golden brown. I rush to the bathroom to look in the mirror. My face is a little pink, but the parts of me that were red moments ago have now darkened into a beautiful tan. I remove my sweater and bring down the strap on my tank top where the burn was the worst. The searing pain is gone.

  I gawk at Patrick standing in the doorway. He looks pleased and a little entertained. I’m completely blown away. He reaches over to caress my exposed shoulder.

  “Forgive me,” Patrick apologizes. “I had to make sure you still looked a little pink so the others wouldn’t ask questions.”

  “Forgive you?” I’m breathless. “Thank you! I didn’t think I would be able to sleep tonight because it hurt so much.”

  He gives me a brilliant white smile and then it fades into a tender grin. I know the look. I feel the longing. I have a hard time believing this is the same Patrick from this morning. I watch his lips wondering what they would feel like against my own. He steps closer to place a hand on my cheek waiting for my response. My breathing escalates, and I brace myself against the wall behind me.

  “Emily, I know I said I wouldn’t, but I’m going to kiss you now.”

  I nod permission as he cups my face in his hands and tilts my chin. I close my eyes just before his supple lips meet mine. He kisses me gently as if he’s afraid I’ll break. His lips linger coaxing mine for the second kiss. By the third kiss, I am butter and have completely melted. He pulls away leaving one hand to remain on my cheek. My eyes flutter open.

  With a devilish grin and a low voice, he suggests, “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  I mumble, “Mmm.”

  He loops his arm through mine. “Let’s go.”

  I don’t argue, but when I take a step forward my legs turn to jelly and I stumble into him. He catches me and gives me a second to right myself. With that same devilish grin, he leads the way back to the beach.

  I’m happy for the little walk. It gives me enough time to put my head back on my shoulders where it belongs. The group has moved across the beach to roast marshmallows over a fire. I tear away from Patrick’s arm before anyone can see the two of us linked. I give him a look of apology, but I think he understands.

  We stay out by the lake for another hour before Tom and Julie retreat inside, leaving the five of us to hang out on the beach. The rest of the evening is full of fun and laughter. Whenever a wave of panic threatens, Patrick magically appears at my side to envelop me in his calming presence.

  As Morgan and I head back to the house, I stop. Turning to her, I say, “Thank you, Morgan. Really, thank you for everything.”

  “You don’t need to thank me, Emily. Honestly, I’m glad you’re here.”

  I step in to give her the hug she’s holding back. It takes her by surprise, but she doesn’t say anything, she just squeezes me tight.

  fourteen

  I wake early the next morning still wearing the shorts and tank top I wore the night before. At some point in the night, Morgan must have thrown a blanket over me. I move carefully out of bed to keep from waking her. I hurry to her bathroom door, but it’s locked. Before I can make a decision to knock or use the other bathroom, the door slides open. Patrick stands in the doorway looking powerful in his business suit and tie.

  “Good morning.” His words gently caress the inside of my skull, wiping away any remaining cobwebs of sleep.

  “Well, aren’t you overdressed!” I return silently, unconsciously drifting toward him.

  He looks pleased by my involuntary movement and just when I decide to back away, his arm reaches for me. He pulls me into the bathroom and closes the door. The smell of aftershave or body wash or whatever it is that makes Patrick smell so delicious fills my senses.

  “Where are you going?” I ask, trying to be inconspicuous about my reaction to him.

  He gives me his half-smile. At the same moment, I spot my reflection in the mirror and cringe. We’re definitely not in a fairytale because I certainly don’t wake up looking like sleeping beauty. No, I wake with my hair in knots, my clothes askew, my eyes puffy, and my cheeks flushed. I certainly don’t understand his fervent gaze.

  “I don’t know if I’m going anywhere, anymore,” he says, moving closer.

  Goosebumps emblazon my arms at his simple touch.

  I repeat, “Where are you going?”

  “My internship. You’ve been very distracting. I always forget how hard it is to leave you.” And with that, he picks me up like I weigh nothing and swings me around to sit me on the counter. He plants himself between my legs and comes in for a kiss, but I turn away on reflex. Patrick flinches, singed by my inherent rejection.

  I explain, “We just started getting along. Do you really want to risk messing that up?”

  His palm glides across my cheek resting two tempting fingers on my lips. He stares longingly, effectively answering my question and I’m not sure why I’m resisting.

  “You feel it too,” he whispers, just inches from my face. “Damn it.” He shakes his head avoiding my eyes, as he lifts me from the counter. He places a chaste kiss on my forehead, releases me, and retreats to his room. Before closing the door between us, he says, “Have a good morning, love. I’ll see you in class.”

  “Uh-huh,” I muster before the door closes.

  I arrive on campus early to find a comfortable spot to catch up on my assignments. After lounging under a tree reading for hours, I wander down the sidewalk toward my class and find Patrick lying on the stone wall next to the sidewalk. His hands are tucked under his head, and his chest is exposed, his shirt laying forgotten in the grass. I stop and lean over him to block the sun from his face.

  “Hello, love,” he drawls, his eyes remaining closed as a cocky grin spreads across his face.

  “Really?” I say, moving out of his sun and sitting down next to him. “Look what you’re doing to all these poor helpless girls.”

  His smile widens. “Is it working on all of the girls?” he asks in a sultry tone, peering up to unleash his hypnotizing eyes.

  Attempting to ignore the effect he has on me; I turn my head and change the subject. “Have you gone anywhere for your humanities project?”

  He sits up. “There is a play tomorrow evening if you would like to accompany me.”

  I look over and my eyes automatically drop to his bare chest. Realizing my mistake, I roll my eyes and say, “Will you please put on your shirt? It’s distracting.”

  “I’ll put my shirt on when you agree to go with me,” he says with a smirk. “It’s just two blocks from here, tomorrow at eight.”

  “I have to work.”

  “They can let you off a little early. You work with Ashley, right? I’ll come talk to her.”

  His words hit a nerve, feeling ever so slightly like a threat because I remember how Ashley reacted to him the last time. “I don’t want you around Ashley.”

  “Why?” he questions, “You think I would compel her?”

  “You wouldn’t have to. She already thinks you’re a God.”

  He places his hand over mine on the stone wall as he quietly gazes at me. I get lost in his eyes, and my mind drifts. When he speaks, his words feel like silk against my ear. “Emily, you know you want to get this assignment out of the way.”

  I yank my hand away from him, separating from his thoughts. “Don’t you dare use that on me!”

  “Just seeing if I could,” he shrugs, unrepentant. “I had you for a second.”

  “And that’s the longest you’ll ever have me.”

  He nudges my shoulder. “We’ll just have to see how our date goes tomorrow.”

  Red lights are flashing in my mind, and though I don’t completely understand my apprehension, I know this doesn’t feel like the Patrick who held me together the night before. I stand up to put more distance between us, saying, “I’ll meet you here on campus tomorrow night since it’s only two blocks away.”

  He’s looking at me funny. “Okay, I’ll meet you here.” He observes the distance I put between us and questions,
“Are you suddenly frightened by me?”

  “No,” I say, sounding defensive.

  He slips his shirt over his shoulders and says, “Will you do me a favor? Pay attention to the people around you as you go to class. I’ll be right behind you.”

  I shake my head. “Okay, whatever,” I say, walking away.

  There are more people on campus than usual, or maybe it’s just because I’m paying attention. I haven’t gone twenty feet when a guy holding a frisbee approaches me.

  “Hey, I’m Tucker,” he offers, forwardly.

  I continue walking.

  “Are you on your way to class?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “It sucks you have to sit inside on such a beautiful day,” he says. “What class do you have?”

  “Humanities.”

  “Ah, I just finished my last Humanities class. Do you have that old man with the cane? I can’t believe they let that senile old man teach.”

  “I like that senile old man.” I walk faster trying to brush him off, but he sticks to me like a leech.

  “Are you busy after class or maybe you could skip class and come hang out with me.”

  “No.”

  “Well, maybe we can hang out another time.” His shameless advances keep coming. Other than Patrick, I’ve never had anyone openly hit on me. It’s irritating, and he’s not getting the hint.

  “No!” I say, but he continues.

  “What about later tonight?” he says, crowding my space. “Just give me your number and we’ll work it out.” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “You can stop by my apartment. Do you live close?”

  I stop and turn ready to give him hell, but a masculine voice comes from behind me. “Is this boy bothering you?”

  My frisbee-playing stalker backs away. “I’ll see you around,” he says, before fleeing the scene.

  I turn to face my rescuer. He must be at least ten years my senior, and I see why the other guy didn’t stay to argue. His cut-off shirt boasts massive tattooed biceps, while his clean-shaven head reveals a fully tattooed scalp. I mean to thank him, but I’m intimidated by his presence.