47. Ridley
47
RIDLEY
The tension in the air was a living, breathing thing. An invisible smoke that polluted everything around it, making it hard to take in a full breath. Or maybe it was simply that we’d turned off the AC in Emerson’s adorable home, making the living room stuffy in the eighty-degree heat.
I wanted it to be the latter. Needed it to be that. But as I stole a sidelong look at the woman I now considered a friend, I knew that was a hopeful lie.
Emerson wore an oversized pink T-shirt that had tiny hearts all over it and sweats with a rainbow down the side. But nothing about her outfit matched her demeanor. Her typically fair complexion was even paler than normal, an almost gray hue beneath it.
Her lack of color had her brother asking her at least half a dozen times if she needed to sit or something to eat or drink. Right up until she bit his head off. He shut his mouth altogether, and Emerson picked up her pacing. Back and forth across the living room as she wrung her hands.
Trey simply stood in the corner, watching Emerson mostly, but occasionally his gaze would move to me. It was as if he was making sure I wasn’t hiding weapons or anything else that might hurt Em in the gear I was setting up.
While my microphones weren’t going to start spitting bullets anytime soon, I couldn’t make any promises about the emotional toll my presence and gear might inflict. And that had guilt stewing somewhere deep. I might’ve been willing to cut myself open in search of peace and the protection of innocent lives, but Emerson might not be there yet.
Her gaze locked on mine, and she didn’t look away. “I can do this. I need to do it.”
I understood that. There’d been a freedom that had come from sharing Avery’s story, my story—unmistakably our story now. Even before I’d seen the outpouring of love from my listeners, I’d felt more empowered by simply sharing my truth. And I could only hope Emerson would feel the same way.
“All right,” I said, doing my best to give her an encouraging smile. “I’m almost set up. You can take that seat there.” I pointed to the overstuffed chair she’d sat in yesterday when we had tea. So much had happened in the past twenty-four hours, that felt like a lifetime ago.
“Here,” Emerson said quickly. “Let me move the yearbooks.” She hurried over and grabbed the stack of books. “I was trying to jog my memory last night, get back to that time.”
“That’s good,” I encouraged. “I’d actually love to take a look at those after we talk. The ones Dean checked out for me at the library went MIA along with my laptop and some other stuff.”
Emerson winced at the reminder of what had happened to me. “Of course.” She moved the yearbooks to the coffee table and sat as I hooked up the final cable.
As I opened Pro Tools on my new laptop, I felt eyes on me. I knew the owner of the gaze without even looking, but when I finally sought out the source, a different sort of shadow greeted me. Pain swirled in Colt’s dark-brown irises, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it. But I still tried.
“Do you want to take a walk while we record?” I asked.
His stare hardened. “No.”
“Dial it back a notch,” Trey clipped.
Colt’s glare moved to his best friend, but he didn’t say a word.
I decided to leave them in their stare-off and focused on Emerson as I sat. “How are you feeling?”
She swallowed, then picked up the glass of water and took a sip. “I’m okay.”
“If at any time you want to stop, just say the word. You also get final say on what makes it into the episode. I’ll give you a cut before we release it, and if there’s anything you want out, we take it out. No questions asked.”
Trey took a step forward, reaching out to squeeze Emerson’s shoulder. “You’ve got this, Emmie. We’re right here with you.”
Colt didn’t say a word.
I didn’t search out his eyes this time. I had to let him deal with the onslaught of memories however he needed to. Instead, I kept my focus on Emerson as I hit record. “Go ahead and talk normally so I can test the levels.”
She glanced down at the microphone like it was some sort of two-headed snake, and I didn’t blame her. “I don’t have to lean closer or anything?” Emerson asked.
I shook my head as I watched the levels on the screen. “These are good at picking up voices as long as there isn’t a lot of ambient noise.” I slid her mic back a fraction. “Try one more time.”
“Testing one, two, three.” Emerson sent me a wobbly smile. “Isn’t that what all the professionals say?”
I chuckled, even though it was forced. “You’re hired.”
Her smile got wider, a little steadier. “Let’s do this.”
I reached across the table and squeezed Emerson’s hand. I wanted to give her that same touch point Trey had, to let her know that I’d be with her every step of the way. She wasn’t alone. “Would you mind telling the listeners your name?”
“H-hi. I’m Emerson Sinclair.”
I let out a breath as I released her hand and sat back. “Thanks for talking to me today.” My gaze shifted so she hopefully didn’t feel as much pressure. “I’ve had the privilege of getting to know Emerson over the last several weeks, and I can tell you a few things about her. She’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met and an incredibly talented artist; she makes one hell of an amazing fried chicken lunch, and she has some of the cutest dogs on the planet.”
A laugh startled out of Emerson. “This one here is definitely the most ferocious.”
I grinned back at her. “How could I forget Saber’s vicious snaggletooth?”
“He’s wondering that right about now.”
“Apologies to Saber the ferocious Yorkie.” But there was only so long I could talk about adorable dogs and amazing paintings. At some point we’d have to go to the hard places, and it was better to get it done. “Emerson, can you tell me what life was like when you were sixteen?”
Her fingers dug into the arms of the chair in a way that would leave permanent marks behind. “I think it was a pretty stereotypical teenage existence in a small town. I went to school, played sports, had an after-school job. I really wanted to save up for a car, so I didn’t have to bum rides from my big brother all the time.”
Emerson’s gaze moved to Colt, and I couldn’t help but follow. His smile was strained, so much pain and pride in his eyes.
“I don’t know if you were exactly stereotypical. You were in the National Honor Society and a state champion tennis player,” I continued.
Her cheeks pinked. “It feels like a million years ago, but I tried my best at school, even those pesky science classes I hated. But I—I loved tennis.”
Emerson’s voice hitched as she spoke about the sport. She went on to share how she'd joined the team on a whim in middle school and caught the bug. How she’d worked year-round to improve, making varsity her freshman year of high school.
My fingers tightened on my knees as I prepared to dive in, knowing it would hurt Em and that I’d feel it all with her. “Was it that dedication to improvement that had you practicing late on the night of May twenty-third?”
Emerson’s hand trembled as she grabbed for her water and took another sip, but I gave no signs of rushing her. This was at her pace or not at all. “I practiced late every night,” she said. “I did every camp and special clinic, anything to improve.”
“Can you walk me through that night in particular?” I asked gently.
Emerson nodded, but it took her a moment to speak. “I hit balls for about an hour after practice ended. The lights on the courts were always pretty decent, so it didn’t matter that it had gotten dark.”
The tremor was back, but it had spread through Emerson now, taking root in her muscles. “Coach gave me an extra key to the equipment room, so I could put the ball machine away when I was done. I didn’t see anyone when I did, didn’t hear anything out of place. There was no part of me that was on alert. Maybe because Shady Cove had always been such a safe place, somewhere we could walk to school without a parent and ride our bikes like little terrors.”
Emerson licked her lips as tears filled her eyes. “But it wasn’t safe that day.”
I still didn’t rush her. I waited until she was ready to keep going, trying to assure her that I was right there with her.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, a single tear sliding down her cheek. “I bent to put my racket in my bag, and that’s when I heard it. It wasn’t the snap of a twig like in the movies. It was a rush of feet, but not heavy. Almost like a track star or one of those football players who almost look like they’re dancing.”
Her eyes opened, more tears spilling out now. “I didn’t see a thing. Was just about to look up when the first blow hit so hard I saw stars. I tried to scream.” The tears came faster now. “I swear I tried to fight him. But he was so strong.” Her body shook from the memory, the tears, or maybe some combination of the two.
Colt pushed to his feet. “That’s enough. That’s fucking enough.”
“Colt,” Trey warned, his voice low.
“What?” Colt snapped. “I’m not going to sit here and not say a word while my sister’s fucking crying. She already won’t leave the house. This is just going to make it worse.”
Emerson froze, her arms curling around herself as the tears tracked down her cheeks. “It’s my choice,” she choked out.
“She’s right,” Trey said, stepping into Colt’s space.
His gaze jumped between the three of us. “Fine,” he spat. “But I sure as hell don’t have to watch it.”
I hit stop on the recording, pushing to stand and heading toward the back door after Colt.
Trey caught my arm. “I wouldn’t. He’s gonna say something he doesn’t mean, and he’ll hate himself for it later.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But I’m not going to leave him alone in his pain. Even when he hated me, he never did that.”
My words had Trey releasing his hold on me, and I hurried through the kitchen to the back deck. I didn’t see Colt at first. He’d already made it through the garden to the edge of the tree line.
He looked so much like a little boy in that moment. One who’d been knocked down by the schoolyard bully. Defeated and dejected. Hopeless.
My heart ached for that boy. For the Colt who’d been barely a man when his sister was taken. When his world had fractured and he’d blamed himself for it.
I hurried across the grass and through the maze of flowers until I got to him. I knew my words wouldn’t do a damn thing, so I wrapped my arms around him from behind, pressing my cheek to his back. I braced for rejection, for cruel words hurled out of anger, but they didn’t come.
Instead, his body shook. Silent sobs racking through him.
My heart, which ached, shattered then—for this beautiful man still holding on to so much guilt.
“He fucking hit her. Over and over until she passed out. And I wasn’t there. Too caught up in pool with my buddies after work and not watching the goddamned time. I wasn’t there.”
I moved again, curving around him until we were front to front and I could put my palms on his face. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“I know. But I still wasn’t there.” Tears tracked down his cheeks, and I felt it then. The weight of Colt coming to terms with his grief, finally. Once he realized the responsibility wasn’t on his shoulders, he could deal with the pain of it happening at all. To his little sister. The person he loved most in this world.
I took that pain on with him. Held his scruffy face in my hands and helped him shoulder it. And as those shadowed eyes met mine, I gave him the last piece of me. “I love you, Colt.”
His body jerked. “Chaos.”
“I love you.” My own cheeks were wet now, the overload of emotions only having one way out.
Colt’s throat worked as he swallowed. “Think I loved you from the moment you told me the cat had fucking AC in that van.”
A laugh burst out of me, the last sound I was expecting. “Is it fitting that I’m laughing and crying when I’ve told you I love you?”
He pulled me into him. “Baby, you’re chaos. Of course it is.”
And then he kissed me, our tears mixing on our tongues but sealing us together with something stronger than we’d ever experienced before. And when he pulled back, he brushed the hair away from my face. “Best gift I’ve ever received, meeting you.”
“Me too,” I whispered.
We stood there for a long moment, and then Colt finally broke the silence. “I gotta go make things right with Em.”
“Go.” I held on for one moment longer and released him. “I’ll just be a second.”
Colt hesitated, so I shoved him in the direction of the house. “ Go , or I’ll tell Trey you’re a lovesick fool.”
Colt shook his head but grinned and took off at a jog for the house.
I watched him go even after he disappeared inside. The fear was still there—the fact that part of my heart was beating outside my body. I felt a little sick at the thought. But I didn’t let it win. Because that thing between Colt and me, that love, would always be worth fighting for.
I slid my phone out of my pocket. My fingers itched to type out a text to my sister to tell her I loved her. It knocked me sideways. Because that was the urge every time something big happened. Sometimes I would type out a text just to pretend it would somehow get to her.
The wind picked up, and the leaves around me rustled, but something in the air shifted. It wasn’t even a sound, but a feeling. I turned, searching for the source. But I wasn’t fast enough.
Something punched into my side, and pain speared through me, a burning agony. I started to crumple to the ground, my vision going blurry, but something caught me. No, some one .
Strong arms jerked me up as they started dragging me back. “I should’ve known you weren’t special like your sister. Just a whore like all the rest of them.”