Wake Me Up (Love Knows No Boundaries) (11 page)

Chapter Nine

Emma
~

After driving for about three hours
, which is surprisingly nice, he stops outside a house. I don’t know whose, whether it’s his. The flat was mutual ground, this is
his
.

“It’
s our family cottage,” he says, and I keep my eyes on the house. It’s a bloody house. Cottages are darling little one bedroom things where I come from. This is a house. “We come here every summer. I hope you’ll like it.”

Family holidays!
He comes from a world where they have family holidays!

I follow him silently up the stairs. He waits for me to walk in first and I do
, but then I only take two steps and wait for him to pass. I can’t just walk into someone else’s home. I don’t even feel welcome in my parents house. I’m feeling all anxious again, and I hate it.

When he just took hold of me and kissed me at the university
, I almost jumped out of my skin with happiness. He is easily the most attractive man I have ever set eyes on. Taking into consideration that I haven’t seen that many, apart from the movies I’ve watched, and the odd time I’ve gone out with my mother, I still know attractive when I see it. I might be naïve, but I’m not a total writeoff. A person can learn a lot from watching and reading … I think.

He takes my hand and leads me into
a warm home. There are pictures of everyone against the wall. Children, teenagers, adults. I see one of Aiden and a woman, and I stop. Two pairs of gray eyes stare back at me. She’s wearing a formal dress. You can feel the love through the photo. I skip over some more of them. Them doing sports. Them graduating.

A family portrait.

“Are your parents proud of you?”

He tu
gs at me, trying to get me to face him. Eventually he lets go of my hand and takes hold of me, turning me to him.

“Yes, very.”
He smiles. “We’re a close family.” He’s watching me closely, so I force a smile to my face.

“I’m happy for you.” And I mean it.
I’m really glad that he comes from a nice family. There’s hope for the world, knowing not all families are like mine.

There are mementoes
everywhere, but we don’t stay inside long. He walks me right through and out the back onto a deck overlooking the ocean. They’re right on the beach. It doesn’t get any more perfect than this. Not only is he perfect, but he comes from a perfect world.

“You want to grab something to eat first
, or go for a walk?” he asks.

“You choose.” I’ve never been allowed to make
a decision in my life. I wish he’d stop asking me what I want. I don’t know what to answer that will keep him happy. I’ve never been on a date, so he can really do anything and it will be new to me.

“Are you hungry?”
He keeps going and I grimace.

“If you’re hungry
, we can eat. If you’d like to take a walk, we can take a walk.” I say it as sweetly as I possibly can.

Aiden turns to face me full on
, and I feel a twist of anxiety.

“
Emma, I’m askin’ you. I want you to think about what you would like to do. Just for once stop thinkin’ about pleasing someone else, and think about what you want.”

I take a breath, do the soaring eagle thing and it doesn’t work. Not this time.
I look out over the ocean and do the feeling thing he told me to do. There’s only one thing I really want to do.

“Will you show me to your room?” I ask
, and I hold my hand out to him.

~*~

He takes my hand and pulls me close before we go back in. We walk past the kitchen, which is finished with a light wood of some kind. When we reach the passage, my heart starts to pick up pace with every step we take.

There are more pictures on the walls. My eye gets stuck on one. It has a police car in it
, and Aiden and a woman, who I now can guess is Laurie, are standing in full police gear next to it.

I have to turn my head to keep looking as we pass it. It makes it so much more real seeing him like that, seeing the badge, s
eeing the gun, reading the word - police.

And then I hear him open a door.
“This is it,” he says.

It’s nothing like at the flat.
There he only has the bed and desk in his room. I take a step inside. Besides the bed, there is a desk with various medals and trophies. Plaques are up on the wall, and I’m guessing this is only some of it.

“Is there something you’re not good at? Really, anything.” I know I’ve asked before
, but this time I mean it. How is it possible that on this whole planet my path had to cross with such a perfect man? I’ll never be able to keep up with him, he is light years ahead of me.

“I’m not good at sharin’.
I recently found out I get jealous,” he admits, and I look up surprised.

“Of what?” I ask
, but his phone rings before he can answer me.

“Can you give
me a sec,” he apologizes, and I nod. “Hey, Zac.” He lets go of my hand, stepping out of the room and slightly down the passage. “You did?” I can still hear him. “It is?” His voice dips with the two words. Normally he sounds calm, so it sounds odd to hear anything else. “So you’re telling me it’s for any of those four?”

I hope whatever it is isn’t too bad. I hear him sigh
, and then he comes back. He looks serious. Much too serious. He glances around the room.

“Not here,” he says
, and then he takes my hand and we’re heading back out. “Please sit, Emma,” he asks, too politely, and he takes a seat himself in one of the chairs on the deck. I do - sit, and wait.

When he looks at me
, it’s with a different look in his eyes, and I get a taste of what it’s like to sit opposite Aiden the detective. My stomach starts to twist like it does when I know I have to leave my room to go to the loo, and I have to walk past my mother.

“It’s hard to puzzle you out,” he starts. “There
are the things you say when you sleep. There’s what I’ve seen happen with your mother, and then the things you do and how you react.” He keeps quiet for a few seconds, as if he’s chewing over some words, and I get an awful sinking feeling. “I don’t know how to word this correctly, so I’m just going to come out and say it.” My heartbeat picks up so fast, it’s makes me feel lightheaded. “Are you sick, Emma?”

“Huh.” Alright
, I know that wasn’t very lady-like - but what? It’s not what I expected. “No, I’m not sick at all.”

I
try to think of any reason that would’ve made him think that, but I can’t think straight enough at the moment. I give up and resort to what I know best. I fold my hands on my lap and look down.

“If you’re healthy
, then it leaves only two other options. You said yourself you’ve never been drunk, so you can’t be an alcoholic,” he says it, just like that, and my world starts tipping over, like a ship sinking slowly. I feel every drop of blood drain from my face and even though it’s still warm outside, a chill runs over my body. “That leaves one. Why would you, who are healthy, be taking such a high dosage of Toplep, a medication you need a prescription for? Could you explain that to me?”

It feels as if the ground is ripped from under me
, and I’d be more than happy for old Mother Earth to swallow me whole right now. But it doesn’t happen.

I made a mistake. I actually allowed myself to feel hap
py for a moment and now the shit is hitting the fan. I glance up, not knowing how to explain this, but Aiden is still looking at me, wanting an answer.

Panic is scrambling my thoughts and I grab at the first thing I can think of to say.
“Of course. It’s your job to think the worst.” I’m not used to defending myself, at all. I’m not used to people wanting answers, but only attacking. I don’t know how to do this. I only know how to say “yes” and “amen.”

I need to calm down. I take a deep breath, like I do
when I’m facing my mother – slow and careful.

I get up,
to take in the position I’m used to standing in when I’m going to get a speech from my mother. I walk to the railing so I can feel something behind me. I turn around, press against the wood, folding my hands together so I’ll have something to hold onto, and look down. I’m not quite ready to look at him.

“The
y are so I won’t pick up weight.” I admit the truth. It’s all I can do. I learned at an early age not to lie. Lying only makes it worse. You talk yourself into circles and then all hell breaks loose. “She started me on them when she felt I was gaining too much weight.”

Humiliation courses through my veins
, and I feel it heating up my face. I rush into a quick explanation, to make it sound better than it really is. “But I don’t take them all the time. It’s become a habit to carry them with me, and I just flush one away every second day so she won’t notice.”

I swallow the tears back, because so help me I won’t cry, not
because of her.

“Why don’t you fight back
?” he asks, and although his voice is soft, the question hits hard.

I grip my hands tighter together as a burst o
f laughter escapes my lips. I press my hands into my stomach, because I have to stop. I have to control the emotions, like I do when I’m facing my mother.

“Fight back?”
A dull burning starts in my stomach, and it makes me feel nauseous. It feels like I’ve swallowed a jug of acid. “I have, many times.” I shake my head to stop the memories from spilling over into me. I try hard, but the words just burst from me when the wall I’ve fought so hard to keep up cracks. “I have tried, but to fight for hours and hours and hours, to talk to a person who can’t hear what you’re saying because they keep drinking one glass of wine after the other, it only makes it worse. I learned to keep quiet, it’s better that way.”

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep the rest in
, and dare a glance up, only to see him leaning with his elbows on his legs, looking away, out over the ocean. It takes a lot for me to get angry. Really, I’m not the angry-getting type.

“You think I’m weak for not fighting harder, don’t you?” I
swallow down the disappointment I feel. I’m disappointed in myself for not keeping quiet, and in him for judging me. But instead of keeping quiet like I’ve been taught all my life, some mental part of me just keeps going. “I suppose it would be easy for you to think that. Your mother loves you. I’m sure she tells you that, often, too. Your mother never told you that you should rather have been a boy and more like your brother, more perfect. Because you are perfect, Aiden.” I should stop, but he’s just looking at me and it hurts. Just like when Barry gets all the love and I get nothing. Just like when Barry ignores what’s happening, turning a blind eye. Just like when my father walks away every time.

M
y wall cracks even more and a wave of pain hits. I take a shaky breath to keep the tears back, but nothing can keep the words back. “Your mother never shoved a knife into your hand and held it to her, telling you to kill her, and by God you wanted to with every fiber of your being. You really wanted to, but instead you swallow down the disgust and hold her. You hold the woman who repulses you. You will yourself not to move, just so she can touch your hand, and it makes you sick to your stomach.” I swallow hard. “You love your mother. So yes, I suppose it would be easy for you to fight back.”

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be anywhere.

“What I want … I just want it to stop, so I keep quiet, then it’s over faster. Just keep quiet.” As I say the words, I realize I’ve said too much.

I can’t walk away
, because where would I go? I can’t sink down and cry, because I don’t have that luxury right now. I can’t even go home. So I just stand there, feeling rejected by life.

~*~

Aiden gets up just as my heartbeat starts to slow down, making it race wildly all over again. I know I’m not allowed to say I’m sorry, but I’ve gone and bodged the day up with my big mouth.

I
shop fast and I walk fast, I can talk fast too.

“I’m really sorry for what I said,” I blurt it out. “You’re right, I –
”

He stops me mid-sentence.
“Emma.” His voice is soft as he steps in front of me, “Don’t. There’s absolutely nothing for you to be sorry about.” His hands fold warm over my clenched ones. They aren’t clammy like my mother’s. He leans in closer and smells good, too, not reeking of wine. “I’m sorry. It’s easy for me to say fight when I’ve been taught how to.”

He tugs at my hands for me to unclasp them, then he presses them to his chest with
one hand. His fingers brush my jaw, and taking hold of my chin, he tilts my face up. His eyes are soft on me.

“Hey, you,” he whispers, and my throat constricts. I’m going to start leaking again if he is going to be nice to me now.

His fingers trail up the side of my jaw, down to my neck
, and just like earlier, he slips his hand behind my neck. Every bit of tension that has been coiling there evaporates at his mere touch. I can’t describe how good it feels to be touched by him. He is all the opposites of my mother. He’s heaven to my hell.