Now or Never (17 page)

Chapter Thirty

Em

The room was filled with soft morning light when Em woke. Lying perfectly still, she watched dust particles float past the window. Her aunt had once told her that they were tiny fairies dancing on rays of sunlight. She missed those times. Back when the scariest monsters lived under her bed, or in her closet. Back when she was blissfully unaware of the horrible things human beings were capable of. Back when the world was a less terrifying place.

Slowly, the events from
the night before unfolded as she registered the warm body pressed against her back and the heavy arm slung over her waist. Part of her was so happy to have him there she nearly broke down in tears. The other part was so angry she almost did the same.

The comforting obscurity of darkness had been burned away by the harsh light of day, bringing with it the return of reality.
She’d once again allowed herself to become the damsel in distress. And her first instinct was to call for Jay. How could she ever expect him to believe she was capable of helping him when he was always the one coming to her rescue?

Jay’s
arm flexed around her and she closed her eyes, not ready to face him yet. When he withdrew, she wondered if he’d leave without a word. As much as it hurt, it would probably be for the best. She didn’t know what she’d say to him now, anyway.

“Em?” His whisper caressed her cheek, tick
ling the hair draped over her neck.

Ignoring him was childish, but she
was too ashamed to look at him. Keeping her eyes sealed tight, she heard Jay sigh.

“It’s early, but I have to go to work.” Again he waited for a response, but she kept up the
charade even knowing he knew it was an act. He let her. “I’ll see you later.”

Warm lips pressed against her forehead and she
had to fight to hold still. Because if she moved at all—even dared to breathe—she’d grab on to him and refuse to let him go.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Em.
I’ll fix this. I promise.”

There was some quiet shifting and the sound of a zipper as Jay dressed
. Finally allowing her eyes to fall open when she heard the door shut behind him, she stared out the window, watching the sun as it drifted above the trees on the horizon. Jay was gone. Again. And again she’d let him go. Only this time, like the
coward
she was, she’d done it with her eyes closed.

But, Em didn’t want to be that anymore. She didn’t want her uncle to be right about her.
She had to find a way to show
him—
and herself—that
he
was wrong. To prove that Jay was right. That she was strong. Strong enough to help him. To be what he needed. And she knew exactly what she had to do to accomplish that. The only question was, could she?

Running on pure adrenaline and the determination not to overthink it—or think about it at all—Em tossed on jeans and her favorite sweater. She was going to need the added comfort.
Pulling a brush through her hair, she vaguely noted that it was getting some of its shine back, thanks most likely to Ash’s fancy shampoo and conditioner. Normally she’d be grateful, but not today. Today she had no interest in looking good. Grabbing a knit hat from the coat closet, she tugged it over her head.

Ashlyn was just emerging from what looked like hibernation, rubbing her eyes as she shuffled toward the bathroom. She ran a hand over her bed head and scowled at Em’s ready appearance.

“What are you doing up so early?”

“I need to borrow your car.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home.” Snagging the keys, Em ducked out the door before Ashlyn could pepper her with more questions she didn’t have time for.

With a long drive ahead of her, Em did anything and everything not to think about her destination. If she had, she very well may have turned around and gone running back with her tail tucked between her legs. For close to four hours, she played with the radio dial, kept a mental list of license plate states, and relived her morning with Jay again, and again, and
again.
But when she rolled down Main Street past the post office, the pizza shop, the florist, and old Mr. Frank’s house, she couldn’t deny it anymore. She was home.

Chapter Thirty-one

Jay

“Where is she?”

Jay turned around to fin
d Mason looking royally pissed. “Who?”

“Who the hell do y
ou think? What did you do to Em now?”

“Nothing.
” Folding a dish rag in half, he hung it over the cabinet door. “What are you—?”

“Then why is Ash calling me for a ride to work because Em took her car and disappeared hours ago?”

“Where did she go?” Willing to overlook Mason’s bullshit if it got him information faster, Jay spread his fingers across the top of the bar to avoid hitting someone.

“My guess? Away from
you.
” Mason stormed off, presumably to go pick up Ashlyn, leaving Jay to work out the information he’d just been given.

Jay’s nail scratched absently at the scarred surface as he
tried to put the pieces together. As understandable as Mason’s guess would have been, Jay doubted that was the case. Em was stubborn if nothing else. She wouldn’t just give up and walk away from him now. That conclusion inevitably led to the hundred other more horrifying possibilities he refused to even consider.

Time is one of the few absolute constants in the world. A minute is a minute is a minute. Except when it feels like an hours. And the twenty it took Mason to get to Ashlyn’s and bring her back felt like lifetimes. Christ, could gramps drive any fucking slower?

A balding man with a pot belly and grease stains on his shirt shot Jay an irritated look before glancing pointedly at his fingers, which had begun tapping incessantly. Jay growled and turned his back on him, looking for something—
any
thing—to distract him. The last thing he needed was to go off halfcocked without all the information. But if Mason didn’t hurry the hell up . . .

Evidently,
the water heater was having hiccups. By the time he washed out the last glass on the counter, Jay’s fingers were practically numb. He was ringing out the sponge when Mason’s gaudy truck rolled into the lot. It hadn’t even pulled into a parking spot before Jay was out from behind the bar. The moment Ashlyn walked through the front door, he was there waiting for her.

“Where is she?”

“Hi, Jay.” Ashlyn took her time removing her coat and Jay tried not to let his irritation show. She was obviously pissed. “She stole my car, you know?”

“I heard. Where did she go with it?”

“Said she was going home? That was almost two hours ago. She never came back. I tried calling her a zillion times, but she shut her cell off. Or let it die . . .
again.
”

The rest of the information filed away somewhere inside Jay’s brain for later, but at the moment, it was that one word that struck him.
Home
? Em had gone home?
Alone
? Christ, he needed to get to her. Now. She already had a two hour head start but if he hurried . . .

“Where do you think you’re going?” Bart stepped out of the back just as Jay was pulling on his coat.

“I have to leave a little early. Personal emergency.”

“You have another hour left to your shift. I suggest you work it. You and your girl are getting to be more drama than you
’re worth around here. You either work or you’re fired.”

It wasn’t even a question. “Fire me.”

The sour expression hadn’t even left Bart’s face by the time Jay was out the door. He’d find another job. He would never, ever find another Em in this life.

Chapter Thirty-two

Em

Left on Pulver Street. Right on Dempster. The plan had been to go straight to the police station, file her report, and get the hell out of there as fast as humanly possible. Instead, her fingers clenched around the steering wheel
and her heart tried to beat its way out of her chest as she made the turn onto Elm and her foot slowly eased off the accelerator, as though her body was instinctively trying to delay the inevitable.

The strains
of music floating from the car’s stereo faded into background noise as memories swamped her mind. There had been good ones. Years of them. But they’d all been overshadowed by the bad. A cold sweat broke out across her clammy skin as she neared the house on the corner.
His
house.

The house where she’d been a prisoner for years. Where
he
had hurt, used, abused, and broken her. But he wasn’t there anymore.
He
was the prisoner now. Somehow that failed to bring her any comfort.
His
punishment couldn’t erase her pain. It couldn’t take away the nightmares and the constant fear. It couldn’t erase the filth that existed beneath her skin. It couldn’t change the fact that she knew it was there—could feel it—even if no one else could.

She didn’t know what she’d expected. That it should have been painted black and graffittied, or demolished after what
he’d
done? It wasn’t. In fact, it looked exactly the same. She could still see
him
standing in that doorway. Em flinched at the memory of shattering glass. Gasped as phantom hands caressed her arms and face. She could still recall the feel of them so vividly that it felt as though it were happening all over again. The heat of his body, the alcohol on his breath.

This was a bad idea. She shouldn’t have come there, but she’d hoped that a glimpse of the house next door would give her the courage she needed to do what came next. There was no one
in sight, but the old rusted swing set stood abandoned in the back yard like some kind of monument to lost youth.

Em had envied the girl’s innocence, and now she’d cost her it. She’d do anything to give it back. But it didn’t work that way. It was too late for her. Just like it was too late for Em. Nothing could undo what had been done to them. Nothing could ever make that go away. There was nothing she could do to make it right.
Nothing
.

The car made an angry clunking noise as she compressed the gas pedal, blowing through the stop sign. Not even Harrison could outrun memories, though. They were like acid, burning holes through her mind, like the bile creeping up the back of her throat. Em drove with no real direction, only the desire to leave that house as far behind as possible.

Her eyes welled with tears, making it nearly impossible to see where she was going until she was almost there. She hadn’t done it on purpose—not consciously—but this had been her destination all along. And now she was there, parked outside the short, rectangular building that looked like a million other buildings. The only thing to differentiate it, an equally rectangular sign hanging on the brick wall. White with blue lettering, deeming the place ‘Precinct 35’.

To the casual observer, the structure looked benign enough. Nothing threatening about four walls and a door. No visible bars, no fences with barbed wire, or guard towers armed with long range riffles. Just a perfectly manicured lawn, and pristinely landscaped walkway surrounded by purple and white tulips. A pretty mask. But Em knew exactly what kind of evil lurked inside.

Jay had told her, Ashlyn had told her, and she’d told herself again, and again, and again not to obsess over the case. She hadn’t listened to any of them. Em must have read every article with any mention of her uncle a dozen times. And being a small town without much noteworthy news, there were a lot of them. That’s how she knew
he
was being held there until
his
trial.
He
was right there. Right behind that shiny, mirrored door. So close Em could swear she smelled him.

Her throat closed over the memory scent of body odor and cheap cologne. Dropping her head on the wheel, Em fought to control her frantic breathing as tiny dark spots danced in her vision. She’d never been inside the police station before. What if she saw
him
? What if
he
saw her?

It felt as though an elephant had climbed inside the car with her and planted itself right on top of her chest. Her lungs strained, but the air had grown thin. Panic threatened to overrun reason as Em frantically struggled to shift the weight.

Would he be able to hear her while she answered their questions? What would they ask? What would she have to say to them? All of those memories she’d buried so deep, shoved into a box at the back of her mind, and spent her days hiding from. What would unearthing them do to her?

And, Christ, the trial. A cold sweat trickled down Em’s spine. She’d have to testify. Her deepest and darkest secrets laid bare for the local media to run away with. She’d make headlines. There would be articles in publications everyone read. Everyone she ever knew would know the truth. The dirty, vulgar, disgusting truth about her.

What would they say about her?
Slut. Coward. Runaway. Enabler.

What if they didn’t believe her?
Liar.

What if her uncle was right? What if they said she wanted it? Didn’t do anything to stop it?
Whore.

Would Tori blame her for what happened to her?
Accomplice.

No.
No, no, no, no, no.