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Josh
The phone on my bedside table is blaring. Reaching a hand out, I pick it up before bringing the receiver to my ear.
“What?” I ask.
“Joshua, that’s no way to answer the phone,” my mother’s voice chastises through the line.
“It’s also not polite to call people at ungodly hours, Mother. Is there a reason you’re calling me so early?” I ask.
“Well, I was just having breakfast with Emily and I thought you might like to join us,” she sings.
At the mention of Emily, I bolt up straight and look to the empty spot on the bed, the spot where Emily should be.
“I’ll be right down.” I hang up. Throwing on a pair of grey sweats, I forgo the shirt. The first thought in my head is that she’s trying to leave. Even though she told me she wouldn’t, I didn’t believe her for a fucking second.
I can read it all over her face. She’s running from something, someone. I can’t let her leave. I’m afraid if I do, I’m never going to see her again. Over the last two days, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I don’t want to live without her anymore. I never should have pushed her away in the first place. It’s true what they say: hindsight’s a fucking bitch.
On my way downstairs, I check my messages—nothing from Sam. What the fuck is taking him so long? He usually gets me the intel I need within hours. Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I reach the kitchen to find my mother at the counter. The sight is odd. She never sits at the breakfast bench, always having her meals served in the dining room.
Looking around, I note that Emmy is nowhere in sight. “Where’s Emily?” I ask, heading for the coffee pot.
Pouring a glass of black coffee, I gulp a mouthful down before turning and raising an eyebrow at my mother, who still hasn’t answered my damn question.
“She went out to see the stables. She wanted to see the horses.”
Fuck! She’s gone outside. She’s probably halfway to Timbuctoo by now. I slam my cup down. “How long ago did she go out there?” I growl at my mother.
“Joshua, calm the fuck down. You are not going out there to go all caveman on that poor girl. Don’t you think she’s been through enough? She doesn’t need another man trapping her.” My mother’s words halt me. One, because I’ve never heard her cuss before, ever! And two, because she’s right. I can’t be another man caging Emily in. But I’ll be damned if I’m ever going to let her go either.
“What do you know about what she’s been through?” I ask. Maybe Emmy confided in her about what happened.
“She hasn’t told me anything, Josh. And if she did, I certainly wouldn’t be breaking her confidence and telling you.”
“You are dying, aren’t you? What is this? Some new kind of sick and twisted game? Playing the nice mother who actually gives a fuck?” My words are harsh, however true they are.
“I know I haven’t been the best mother. But I’m going to be now. I’m sober, have been for six months. And the reason I know what Emmy’s been through is because I’ve lived it. My whole marriage was one of control and abuse. I protected you boys from ever seeing it. I didn’t want you to know. Your father was a smart, smart man; he never left marks where others would see them. Never lost his temper in front of anyone.”
She looks down at the ground. I want to scream at her that she did a shitty fucking job of protecting us. Because my father was a cruel son of a bitch to both Dean and me. He was worse to me—the man wanted to break me more than I was already broken.
He should have read the books my mother used to read, the ones on raising a child with psychopathic tendencies. I can’t tell her any of that though—it won’t do us any good.
I wrap my arms around my mum, the feeling foreign. But I don’t know what else to do to help her. There’s a tiny bit of me that doesn’t like seeing her sad, a very tiny bit.
“I’m sorry he didn’t die sooner,” I say.
“So am I,” she confirms as she pulls away. “Now, how are we going to get Emily around to the idea of being the next Mrs. McKinley, because I’m not getting any younger and I want grandchildren.”
“Ah, I’m not… I don’t… She’s not leaving. I don’t care what I have to do. I can’t lose her again,” I admit.
“I know. Go out there and take her riding. You know she was on the equestrian team in school, right?” The fact that my mother knows this surprises me.
“Of course, I know. She was on every bloody team,” I say as I make my way out of the house.
* * *
Standingin the shadows of the stables, I remain quiet as I observe Emily interact with Jasper. A white Quarter horse with a soul as pure as hers. She looks at peace, talking to Jasper and brushing him down.
I smile at the sight of her in a pair of my track pants and my shirt. I really do need to get her some of her own clothes, but the possessive ass that I am just wants to see her in mine.
