Page 92 of Beautiful Prey

And yet I could see that small part of him fighting. He wanted my words to be real. He wanted to believe I meant them. Otherwise, he would have shut me out already.

But this was all I had to give. And it wasn’t enough.

His ghosts had already warped the memory of me. My betrayal had poisoned whatever we had.

And I was broken again by what he had done.

So what else was left but to hope that, despite it all, he could let go of the past?

He slipped away, turning his back on me again as if believing what I said was too painful. I was afraid he was going to shut me out again. But I was done being ignored.

“I have more to say and you’ll listen,” I said. “You went through something awful. No one deserves to go through what happened to you.” I got in his way, anger making me suddenly brave. “But you ruined me because of your revenge. You took away everything I loved. You traumatized me, Emery.” My voice rose, but I couldn’t help it. “I was innocent. An innocent kid just like you. So yeah, I went to get my own revenge. From the man who tore my father’s body apart right in front me. On my sixteenth birthday. Not knowing why he had done what he did. Left alone and afraid. Just like you!” Angry tears stung my eyes. “You did that. Was that the price you were willing to pay? To leave another kid in fear for the rest of their life so you couldhave that moment? Was it worth it?” I was almost screaming now and he hardly moved at all. I hit him across the chest. He couldn’t do more damage than he already had.

“And all I wanted to do was tell you all this to your face, that’s it!” I yelled. “And then I couldn’t even do that when I saw how fucked up my dad had made you.” The tears spilled over. “Even then I was going to spare you more pain while you never had to know of mine.” I shoved at him and he still didn’t budge. I whispered, “I wanted to make you better because I felt some sick love for you that you didn’t deserve. And then you kidnapped me and hurt me some more. You’re damaged and I can’t fix you. I’m sorry I ever tried.” I straightened, trying to stifle the sobs. “So fuck you and your ghosts.”

I moved for the stair, knowing I wasn’t going to get far. Knowing he was following right behind. I got three quarters of the way up before his arm came around my waist and pulled me off my feet. I tried to cling to the stair handle, and he wrenched me away with little effort. I cried out despite myself.

This was it, wasn’t it? I fucked things up for good.

Sobbing, I went limp in his arms, as he dragged me down on the floor. He brushed the hair out of my face, and I gasped at the familiar gesture.

He held me, while I cried.

For me. For him.

For our lost childhood.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I didn’t move on the couch where we now sat, my head lying across his lap. I was finally numb, uncaring. Even my fear vanished. He had held me through the storm of emotions that wrecked me. And when I’d finally calmed down, he had lifted me and brought me to sit before the monitor, at first cradling me against him with my head on his shoulder, then laying me across. I could feel his hand at the back of my head where he held a fist of my hair, just to feel through his fingers. My eyes were dry now—and probably red—as I stared at the monitor before us, watching a raccoon climb up a tree beside one of the cameras in the woods. In another, a bat flew by the gate.

I felt his hand move as he caressed my head, and I closed my eyes against the touch. He was so warm. His thigh, solid muscle under me, was tense.

I can warm you.

For just one brief moment, I imagined that we were far from here. That Emery was normal, his ghosts long gone, the trauma past us both. That we were a loving couple, that we’d never hurt each other or anyone else.

That we were happy.

I let the dream overtake me, let his touch comfort me. I turned in his lap, not yet opening my eyes, not yet looking up at him.

I turned and pressed my face close to his waist. Subconsciously, I started using the techniques I had once tried on him in our sessions. Only happy thoughts.

Emery on a beach. Emery with a kitten. Emery smiling—not creepily. Emery being sweet.

I sighed a little and then tensed when his hand lay against my ribs. His fingers traced along me and he whispered something so softly I almost didn’t catch it.

“Poor little rabbit.”

Shuddering, I opened my eyes. The fantasy slipped away and the dark flooded in.

My eyes were locked to his as I cautiously sat up. He felt distant from me even now, even though I swore for a moment I saw the icy glare slip, saw something there, saw a sliver of the Emery I thought I’d come to know. For a moment I had, when he held me as I cried, I was sure of it.

I had him. If only for a moment. It was the second time. The first in Lena’s kitchen. I had him again. His walls were cracking. He wanted me but he couldn’t choose between me and his sister who he believed still lived in his head. Who wanted vengeance. Who told him I couldn’t be trusted no matter what. That I was playing a dangerous game.

But I could make him give in to me. Make him let go.

I felt tired but also alert now that I felt so close to breaking that wall. Slowly, as if to not startle him, I slid onto his lap. There was a flicker in his gaze behind the ice and at the corner of my eye I saw his hands clenching as if he desperately wanted to touch again but was uncertain if he should.