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Emerson stares in one direction as the boat skims the waves. Must be where his house is. His face doesn’t show how much he wants to be there.
Needs to be there, judging from what he said during the night.
My heart sinks. Even if I did convince his brother to call the cops, and even if he did agree to help me, it would be over for Emerson.
If my family found him, they’d kill him. But Leo wouldn’t have a chance if the cops got to him first. What I saw last night—
I shouldn’t feel sorry for him. And it’s not pity that I feel, really. It’s empathy. My heart broke for him, for the naked panic in his eyes. He tried so hard to hide it.
I understand trying to hide. I do. But it’s different for Emerson. He can’t put bits of himself in paintings and stow the dark parts of himself on canvas. It’s bigger than that. An all-consuming thing. Jail would be a death sentence.
And I can’t let him die.
The realization hits at the same time as some cold ocean spray. I shiver all the way down to my toes.
I don’t want him to die.
I saw him last night before I went to sleep. I saw the way his body shook and I saw how he tried to get into the water. Where was he going to go? Emerson’s a good swimmer, but people can drown at times like that. I almost did, like a fool.
And yes—he deserves to be behind bars for what he’s done. People who kidnap other people shouldn’t just be free in society.
Except one night away from his house was enough to unravel him. I think he’s still unraveled now. It’s just that he’s better at hiding it. He has a way back home.
Sin guides the boat toward shore. Toward a boat house a little down the beach from Emerson’s. It’s so different from this perspective. The houses seem small compared to the vast sea. The wide beach becomes a thin strip of sand. It could be a Christmas village with snow-dusted rooftops. This is the opposite perspective. The ocean’s view of the beach where I first saw Emerson in the water. My heart races. This is the ocean’s view of the place I thought was a beautiful prison.
It’s more than that.
It’s a sanctuary.
One that Emerson’s made for himself.
Maybe I have lost it, but I feel touched that he’d let me in. A person who feels this way about his home would be very protective of it. He wouldn’t just let anyone stay as long as I have. And those hours in the cave showed me how unlike a prison it is. I have everything I need there, except my freedom.
And…
What did I do with it, anyway?
Almost drowned myself.
Sin pulls the boat into the boathouse and Emerson steps out to tie it down. He offers me his hand to get out, then folds his arm around me. The three of us hustle down the beach. I don’t know if Emerson’s hurrying for me or for him. I don’t know if I care. His brother walks on the other side of me.
Now is probably not the time to joke about being a flight risk.
Emerson picks up the pace as we get closer to his house. We burst in through the side door, Emerson first. Sin steps around him and goes further inside. And Emerson, with a gentle palm on my shoulder, moves me out of his way.
He slams the door.
Locks it.
Leans against it.
Eyes closed, his palms flat against the wood.
“You want to go upstairs?” Sin asks.
“Fuck no.”
“I’ll stay down here.” Emerson’s eyes are all narrow suspicion now. “I’ll stay with her,” his brother promises.
