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She doesn’t question me. What she does do is squeeze my hand tighter.
* * *
Emily fell asleepan hour into the trip. Sitting in the back seat with her head resting on my shoulder, she never lets go of my hand. Even as she sleeps, she still has a tight grip on that hand.
She’s been sleeping for the last hour and a half. Whatever’s happening inside her head now is not peaceful. She’s stirring, her body jerking around slightly. Her fingernails pierce into my skin to the point I can feel tiny drops of blood escape.
I should wake her up. That would be the right thing to do. The only reason I’m not waking her from this nightmare is she’s mumbling out incoherent words. I’m waiting for something to slip out of her mouth that I can actually use. Something to tell me what the fuck she’s running from.
I sit still as her nails dig in, her head shaking no. She looks tortured; she looks like she’s in hell right now. Sweat coats her forehead while blonde hair sticks to her face. If I was a better man, I’d wake her up. I’d stop this torture.
I’ve never pretended to be good. I’m not ashamed of who I am. A soul-tearing scream leaves her mouth before she bolts upright. “No, Trent, stop!” she screams.
Her eyes are staring ahead, but she’s not fully awake. Finally, I have a fucking name. Not much to go on, but it’s more than I had before.
“Emmy, it’s okay. It’s just a dream. You’re safe,” I whisper, as I pull her into my arms and give her the comfort I’ve been holding back. “You’re safe; no one is going to hurt you ever again.” Moving the hair off her face, I gently kiss her forehead as I whisper promises I’ll die in order to keep.
“Josh?” she asks.
“Yeah, it’s me. You’re okay.”
“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” Why the fuck is she apologising to me?
“Emmy, you have nothing to be sorry about, babe. You didn’t wake me, and even if you did, I wouldn’t care.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket. I shuffle as I retrieve it. Emmy tries to move over. I have to grip her tighter as I bring the phone to my ear.
“Yeah.”
“Boss, what did you want done with the occupant in the shed?” Paul asks.
“Fuck, I fucking forgot about that cocksucker.” How the hell did I forget about the fucker that had Emmy held up in a stable this morning?
“Yeah, I figured you’ve got other things on your mind,” Paul says.
“Keep him on ice. I’ll only be gone a couple of days. I’ll deal with him when I get back.”
“Sure thing. Also, your mother just asked me about increasing security for the wedding. Congratulations,” he says loudly through the phone. I know Emmy hears him when she tenses and looks away.
“It’s not for me, asshole. It’s for Dean’s wedding.”
I hang up. I don’t need to be discussing details for a fucking wedding—not until it’s my wedding we’re planning.
“It seems my mother’s planning a wedding for Dean and Ella. It’s probably a good thing we got out of there. She would have ended up planning a double wedding. She’s taken by the idea of you being her daughter-in-law.” I smile at her. She does not smile back. Instead, she chooses to ignore me, changing the subject.
“Are we nearly there? Will we be seeing Dean and Ella when we’re there?” she asks as she looks out the window.
“About fifteen minutes away. Do you want to see them?”
Emmy shrugs her shoulders. “I like Ella; she’s nice.”
“She is nice. Why the fuck she married Dean’s ugly ass, I have no idea.”
Emmy quickly turns her head in my direction as her eyes squint at me. “You and Ella seem close,” she says.
“As close as two people can be who only just met weeks ago. I suppose.”
“You don’t like people, Josh. You’ve never been close to anyone. Well, at least you didn’t used to. It’s been a while so maybe you like people now. I don’t know.” Her rambling stops.
