And I don’t trust Autumn. That’s the whole thing. The only person I trust with all this is Jimmy and Alyssa. And Jimmy already knows the truth so…
Well, now I’m handing the truth to Alyssa with my bare hands and hoping that after all this, she’ll still accept me. If not that, then at least be able to look into my eyes without disgust or pity.
“So,” she says, nudging the plate toward me. “Are you going to eat?”
I nod but still push the plate to the side. “Listen,” I tell her. “I want to talk to you about last night.”
“I told you, I understand.”
“No, not about the paparazzi. I mean, again, I regret hitting him. I know I shouldn’t have done that. But I mean…why I was so upset.”
She swallows audibly and nods. “Okay.”
I breathe in deeply through my nose, sitting up straight and then look her right in the eye. “Most of what he said was actually true. My mother was a heroin addict. For all I know she wasn’t a whore, and I know she wasn’t using when I was born, but I did discover her when she had died and I did pretty much grow up on the streets.”
Fuck. The words should be so simple in theory but the minute they leave my lips, they land between us like landmines. Maybe not going off now, but anytime someone missteps in the future.
But even so, she’s staring at me with coaxing eyes, waiting for me to go on.
I sigh. “It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. I know how ridiculous that seems, but when you’re young, you don’t really know what’s wrong. You don’t know you’re poor, you don’t know that you’re living a life that’s unacceptable for many. I guess I was just lucky. I wasn’t often hungry; my mother was usually around. I went to school and saw my friends and played. After school I was either at the park or at home. I’d never been to someone else’s place before so I never knew how it was supposed to look like, or smell, or feel. There were always junkies lying around but back then it wasn’t nearly as bad as it is now. And again, being a kid, I just didn’t know any different. I thought a man with a needle up his arm was just a man who needed medicine.”
Alyssa’s face crumples slightly. Not with pity. With compassion. Still, it’s not easy to take.
I continue. “My only glimpses of the other life, the other side of the tracks, were what I saw on the TV. We only had three channels, but they were enough. They represented the fake world, the one I could escape into if I needed to. Maybe that’s where my acting bug got started, who knows. Anyway, I’m saying all this because I don’t want you to think what people want you to think. That I was suffering. I wasn’t. I just happened to have a mother who loved the drugs more than me.”
“Emmett,” Alyssa finally says. “I’m so sorry.”
“I told you, don’t be,” I tell her. “It happened. I’m sure I prepared for it in some way. I think on some level I knew the drugs would take her but I just thought everything would stay the same. When you’re a kid, even when you’re surrounded by death, you still don’t think death will come for you. But it came right to our fucking door. I remember that evening like it was yesterday…” I shake my head, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. It takes a few minutes before I can continue. “I found her. My friend Jimmy eventually found the two of us. I couldn’t leave her. He’s like a fucking father to me, that guy. And before I knew what was happening, I was shipped off to Mission to live with my aunt. A woman who showed me a fraction of the love my mother showed me.”
Silence hangs around us. It’s not uncomfortable, it’s just heavy. Weighted. This silence is the held breath of my mother and it demands our respect. I know we both can feel it.
After a moment I say, “I was happier before my mother died. I guess in some ways I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since, even though I know the last person I ever truly loved had left me.” I suck on my bottom lip, trying to put my feelings in the tiny neat spaces where they belong. “So that’s my truth. The son of a junkie. A boy who grew up on the wrong side of the tracks. Who grew up too soon. Who stared death in the face every day and didn’t know it.” I burst out laughing but it’s a sour, bitter laugh. “I can see all those fucking headlines now, every single one of them, reducing my life, my love, into something quick and pithy enough to be devoured by the public.”
Again, the silence. Alyssa lessens it by leaning over and putting her hand on top of mine. I can’t help but meet her eyes, gaze deeply into them, wonder how the hell I got so lucky, wonder how the hell I’d ever let go.
“Your life is your life,” she says to me, each word sounding as if she’s handing them out with care. “No one else’s. Not a single person on this earth is entitled to your life and what you’ve gone through. Even if you’ve never gone through anything. You have every right to protect your heart and soul and family from the things that people don’t understand. And I will stand by you during every single step of the way. Contract or not, I’m here and I’m not judging and I’m not going anywhere. I’m just…yours.”
Mine.
Maybe not forever, maybe not for real, but for now…she’s mine.
I manage to give her a smile. “Thank you,” I tell her. It’s more than she’ll ever know.
Even though I know I promised her that I’d take her to the beach, to the improv, even though I planned on ravishing her bare and naked here on this bed, all of those ideas have floated out the window.
Right now, all I want is to go back to sleep.
With the sun streaming through the window.
With her in my arms.
I lift up the covers, gesturing for her to join me.
I don’t have to say a single word.
She gives me a sweet smile, places the tray on the floor, and then crawls across the bed until she’s settling beside me, pulling up the covers to her chin.
“I just want to sleep for a bit more,” I tell her, stifling a yawn. “And I don’t want to do it without you.”
She smiles again and runs her finger gently over my bare chest before she nestles herself into my arms.
A few moments pass. I hear her breathing growing heavier, the air conditioner kick on.
Then she says, “Emmett?”
“Yes, sunshine?”
A pause. I can tell she’s biting on her lip. “Is this real?”
I close my eyes and hold her tight. “It’s always real,” I tell her.
Then I fall asleep, wishing I could have told her more.
Chapter 15
Emmett
It’s Tuesday evening. After we got back to Vancouver on Sunday night, tired to the bone, we agreed to spend Monday apart to give us both some space and get our heads on straight. After all, I had a bit of a PR disaster to try and deal with and Autumn wasn’t being much help. But Tuesday is often a special night for me–when I’m not working–and I don’t want to let this one go to waste.
After All
Karina Halle's books
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- Lying Season (Experiment in Terror #4)
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- Red Fox (Experiment in Terror #2)
- Come Alive
- LYING SEASON (BOOK #4 IN THE EXPERIMENT IN TERROR SERIES)
- Ashes to Ashes (Experiment in Terror #8)
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