Page 25 of Lessons in Desire

Maybe it was my guilt that had my stomach knotting when her name lit up my phone. Or maybe it was the fact she was calling at two am when she had never called my number before. A sob carries through the phone speaker, and I bolt up, immediately alert, my veins pumping, ready to eradicate the threat. I can’t make sense of her words. She’s sobbing so hard her words are carried away by the strength of her tears.

“Evelyn, darling, please. Take a breath.” I demand, tender but stern. “Another.” I say again and again until she can breathe properly and tell me where she is.

“Please come get me.” She cries.

“Of course, where are you?”

“I’ll—I’ll b-be at the bus s-stop in two h-hours.” Her words wobble.

“Evelyn are you safe?” I want to kill whoever did this to her. My thoughts flash to Jake, but I watched her leave that date, and as much as I dislike the boy, I don’t think he would hurt her.

“Yes.”

“Okay. I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.” She whispers and ends the call.

I grab my keys and leave a second later. The bus stop is only a thirty-minute drive away, but I can’t stay still, waiting in the quiet of my house for her to arrive. I’d rather sit in my car, making sure I’m there to catch her when she falls. When the bus eventually does pulls up, I’m out of my car in a second and when she’s in my sight, I feel my body pull up, straight as a bow primed to strike. Her lip is split, the blood crusted, the wound raw and around her tender neck is a necklace of bruises—bruises shaped like fingerprints. I stride over to her, and she falls into my arms, her body sinking into a cry. I clutch her, my mouth whispering into the crown of her hair and that’s how we stay, for a while, until her sobs still and the only sound is our heavy breathing.

“What happened?” I whisper.

“Can we just go somewhere please?” Her voice is flat, as if the pain is too much.

I lead her to my car, buckling her seatbelt as she stairs aimlessly into the dark. The car is silent as we drive and in the drive to my house, she passes out, her tears dragging her into her dreams. She doesn’t wake when I park, nor does she wake when I lift her from my car, her body curved in my arms, the feeling like something shifting into place. Something that solidifies when I place her into my bed, her body curling like a cat.

I don’t sleep.

I stay up, reading, ready to be there for her when she needs me. Prepared to burn the world if she will let me.

Chapter Fifteen

Evelyn

Asher is nowhere to be found when I finally wake up. It’s eleven am and yet I feel as though I’ve hardly slept. My head is groggy, like it’s being weighed down by water, swimming in a sea of numbing cold. My stomach twists in nauseas waves, sending bile rushing up my throat.

I make a run for the toilet, reaching it just in time to empty the contents of my stomach.

Everything from last night comes rushing back, the images whip quick and bitingly cold. The necklace of bruises decorating my neck throb as I heave into the toilet bowl, hissing as the acid burns my split lip.

Through the haze of my retching, I hear a door swing open and the echo of footsteps against wood. And then, Asher is there. He drags his fingers through my hair, holding the stringy, blonde strands in his fist so they don’t catch in the vomit. His hand is warm against my back as he rubs in circles.

Once the vomiting subsides and I can think past the crippling need to cry, I glance at him. “Sorry.” I whisper, my voice raw.

He shakes his head. “No need to be.”

“I made your toilet all gross.” I say, stating the obvious.

He smiles. “Evelyn, it’s okay.” He stands, his strong arms bringing my weak body with him. After brushing my teeth, Asher staring from the doorway, he helps me back into the room, setting me on the blue reading chair near the window.

I take a look out the window, savouring the framed sight of soft, rolling hills that fold in curves of sharp green, and a sun-tinged meadow that would be any painter’s wet dream.

“It’s beautiful here.” I whisper.

“It is.” He agrees. “But I do miss my home in the country.” His words are dreamy, as if he’s back there.

“What is it like?”

He bends, sitting himself at the edge of the bed. “It’s this big beauty of a farm ranch hidden behind a bend of trees, as wild as the area itself.”

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