Page 158 of Deceit

When Mills is done with his calls, we drive in more deafening silence to the address I gave him. The air between us is so thick that it's suffocating, and I loathe the absence of sound as much as I do with what I have to do to keep my kids safe.

“I know you don’t want to hear this,” I start, filling in the car with words. “But I owe you. Anything you ever—“

“Shut up, Ems,” he mutters through a growl and readjusts his grip along the steering wheel of his tinted out BMW M4.

I gently turn myself in the passenger seat to face him, feeling my stitches pull. “Will you send me pictures? Can you call me so I can talk to them and they hear my voice?”

He gives me a curt nod but keeps his eyes on the two-lane road outlined by tall pines and too many miles between me and my squishies.

I set my jaw, allowing my tone to sound however it’s going to because I’m exhausted, devastated, and draining of hope. “I know you hate me right now. I hate me too. I’m so sorry that I had to—“

“Stop it, Emmy.” My nostrils flare in frustration. I need to make sure Mills knows how much I appreciate him. That this means everything to me and my babies.

Communication and talking about things—mainly this—make me feel better. There is no room for error, especially with something as important as my children's lives.

I swivel myself around to look out my window, giving Mills the space he needs. The further we drive away, the more I feel my heart crack open.

These are the vital and happy moments where I should feel blessed that I gave birth. That I’m a mother to two beautiful babies that need me as much as I need them.

Not cruising away with one of my best friends and throwing him into a shitty situation while I’m alone as if I did something wrong in my and Alexander’s relationship.

Well, you did.

A cell rings, and Mills pulls his out then glances over at me for the first time. “It’s not mine.”

Reaching into the pocket of my hoodie, I didn’t realize that I had taken it with me and must’ve shoved it there out of habit.

The screen lights up, and my stomach drops.

It’s Bishop.

“I…” I practically choke the phone with my fingers so that I can’t speak to him. That he’ll feel it and hang up.

“Who is it?” Mills asks before I drop the phone in the cup holder of his car like it’s burning through my skin.

“I thought you told everyone,” I reply.

“I did.”

“Then why...why is Bishop calling me?” I swear I hear Mills lightly scoff as he turns left and continues down a dusty gravel road. “Didn’t you?”

“Yes, Emmy. I had the pleasure of letting everyone know that you’re dead.”

“I know this fucking sucks and I suck, but—”

“Youdosuck,” he agrees, locking his jaw. “You wouldn’t let us help you, so you decide to put our family through hell so you can—”

“I need you to respect that I want to do this on my own,” I snap, my heart seizing up from being such a bitch to him, but I don’t want to agree about it anymore. It’s too rough. “That I don’t want everyone to be used as collateral damage.”

“That’ll stillhappen. If you think he wants those kids so much, he’ll only try to kill me with legal fees or for real try it.”

“Look what happened to Stormi and Marty. Eli used us to lure Marty to him. I’m not doing that with Bishop, Kyson—“

“We would’ve taken our chances.”

“I wouldn’t have. I’m not losing anyone over a fucking asshole. I just lost precious time with my children because of him.”

He doesn’t say another word as done with this conversation as I am with this situation.

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