Page 76 of On the Way to You
Emery nodded. “She did.”
He was quiet again after that, lost in his thoughts, and I rested my chin on the cool rock of the tub, watching the white caps of the waves roll under the moonlight. Something about that place, not just the setting, but the sanctuary itself, left me swimming in introspection, and I wanted to share something with Emery, too.
“When I first lost my leg, I didn’t even want to try to walk again,” I confessed. “Everything just…hurt,you know? Not just the actual wound that was healing, but the memory of my leg. It hurt to think of how I took advantage of something so precious, how I never had to think about walking before, and now if I ever wanted to do it again, I’d have to work and work and work, every single day, just to be able to do it half as good as I used to.”
Emery’s hand squeezed my hip, and I leaned into the touch.
“I’d never felt that, that kind of hopelessness. And then one night, I overheard my parents in the kitchen. They were talking about the accident, about my leg, and my mom said it would be so embarrassing to be in a wheelchair or to have a prosthetic leg. She said it was such a shame, because I was so pretty before.Before,” I repeated, the word bitter on my tongue. “And that was the first time it occurred to me that the accident had split my life in two — before, and after.”
“No offense, but your mom is a bitch.”
I laughed, the sound soft, my eyes still on the water. “None taken. But you know, it was what my dad said next that really kicked me in the chest.” I swallowed, remembering the sound of his voice as it carried from the kitchen down the hall to my bedroom where they thought I was sleeping. “He said he didn’t know how I could even live with myself. He said if he was me, he would just end it all.” I couldn’t look at Emery when I said the next sentence. “My own father said my life wasn’t worth living anymore.”
“Jesus,” he whispered.
“But you know what? Hearing him say that, it was exactly what I needed. Nothing like hearing someone say you shouldn’t live anymore to make you want to do just that to spite them. He lit the fire in me, the one I’ve had burning ever since. I didn’t just learn how to walk, I did it in record time, and then I did yoga, and got a job, and did everything they thought I never would. I lived,” I said. “And then I left, just like I promised them I would one day.”
We were both quiet again, the weight of what I’d said hanging between us like a lead balloon. Emery’s touch at my waist was lighter now, his brows pinched together. I wondered what he was thinking — not just about me, but about himself, about that day when he tried to take his life.
“Is this the place?” I finally asked, my voice thick with uncertainty. “You told me you were driving across the country because you ‘had to see something,’” I reminded him. “Is this it?”
“No,” he answered quickly. “Well, it’s one of the places, I guess, but it’s not the final stop.”
My stomach rolled, the thoughts I’d been mulling over all day sweeping in on the next breeze to remind me of all the uncertainty I felt when it came to the end of our trip. I let my head fall to the side, cheek on the stones as I traced the edge of the shadows on his face. “When this is all over, this trip… will I ever see you again?”
Emery sucked in a long breath, letting it out slowly, his breath pushing against the steam. “That’s an easy question with a complicated answer.”
“Is it?” I challenged. “Seems like a pretty simple yes or no kind of answer to me.”
He faced me then, his arms moving to wrap around me until my chest was against his, our bodies wet and hot and slick as he molded himself to me. One thigh slipped between my own, brushing against my core, my eyes fluttering shut with the feel of it.
“All I can say right now is that I know where I’m going, but I don’t know what I’ll find when I get there. And until I figure that out, I can’t answer your question,” he said, his voice a whisper on the ocean breeze. “It may not make sense to you, but it’s all I can give. Is it enough?”
I nodded, swallowing down the nerves and latching onto his words. They weren’t a promise for more, but they were an honest plea for understanding, and they were enough.
Emery pressed his forehead to mine, the breaths leaving his chest faster as one hand skated down my back, cupping my ass and lifting me into him. That sensitive part of me rubbed against his thigh and a moan escaped my lips, soft and longing, making him harden against my middle as his hands tightened around me.
“Please, tell me you’re not sore anymore,” he breathed, rolling his hips into me.
“I’m not sore.”
“Thank fuck,” he growled, arms moving until I was cradled against his chest once more. He walked us up out of the tub quickly, the cold air piercing our hot skin like needles, his kiss piercing my heart like a knife. “I want you tonight. All of you.”
My voice was a breath on the breeze. “Take me.”
And with that plea, we were on the road again, driving too fast down the foggy coast back to our hotel.
My back hit the door as soon as it closed behind us, Emery dropping my prosthetic in the corner carefully before his hands pinned me again. They gripped my hips hard, his own grinding against me as I raked my hands through his hair, my lips desperate on his. It was all-encompassing, the way he kissed me, not just with his mouth but with every part of his body. His breaths kissed my neck, his teeth dragging along the sensitive skin as I arched into him, his hands gripping harder, arms trapping, moans cutting deep like the sweetest suicide. I was already gone before he’d even really touched me.
Emery ripped the tie loose at the front of my robe, shoving it back off my shoulders and sucking the swell of my breast as soon as it was unveiled. I gasped, head hitting the door before I gripped him harder, biting the hard muscle of his shoulder as he moved his way back up to kiss behind my ear.
“If I go too hard, tell me to stop,” he warned, hips pressing into me against the door so he could free one hand. It hooked under my ass first, gripping hard before sliding down my thigh, snaking up the middle, and one finger entered me quickly and roughly and without mercy.
I cried out, moaning with eyes squeezed shut, legs opening for him. “More.”
“That’s my girl,” he growled, and another finger slid in to join the first, spreading me wider.
His touch wasn’t gentle at first, his fingers thrusting in hard, curling at the tips and working in time with his mouth sucking the skin of my neck. I was frantic, arching into him and away from the door, my hands flying from the cool wood to his shoulders to his hair and back again. I couldn’t get a grip on anything, least of all my composure. I was lost, spiraling down into nothing, burning from the inside out.