“One black, one with two creams and two sugars, please.”
Emily sat, silent, in Michael’s truck as he rattled off their drink orders into the drive-through intercom. She couldn’t stop visualizing him curled up in the corner of the room in the wee hours. They hadn’t spoken much that morning, both of them overwhelmed by what had passed the previous evening. She still felt a heaviness between her legs from sleeping with his hand there. Not unpleasant, but unusual.
She didn’t know if his hand had rested in the same place all night, but she’d awoken to a fluttering at her sex. Gentle fingers caressed her skin, insisting she wake up, and she’d been powerless to refuse.
The first thing she saw upon opening her eyes was Michael sliding down her body, grinning.
“Rise and shine, Dimples.”
He got comfortable between her legs and replaced his roving fingers with his mouth.
When Emily came, she’d had to blink back tears. Not just because he felt so good but because her heart cried for him.
What if she couldn’t help him? He’d already hinted at how much he cared about her and she was conscious of not having replied quite as clearly. What if she disappointed him? What if she couldn’t say the words he hoped to hear and her silence caused him more suffering? Considering he was already experiencing troubling symptoms related to the shooting, she was concerned about hurting him.
He’d sensed her reticence at breakfast and hadn’t initiated much conversation. Instead, they’d gotten ready for another day of renovations and filming at the house.
Mere weeks ago, her life had been headed in a completely different direction. It wasn’t long ago he had been an unattainable TV celebrity and an individual of note in the community. Now, he was just her Michael. Wounded and worn and beautiful.
In some ways, it was easy to be with him. When he was happy, he filled her with hope and delight. But when she glimpsed his demons, she worried she’d never be able to banish them.
He might need to dispel them on his own.
They drove in silence toward Beatrice Street, his hand straying over to clutch hers periodically. “You look beautiful today.”
“Liar. I look like a mess.” At least they’d made a point of stopping by her place that morning so she could change into something other than walk of shame clothes. Too bad she couldn’t switch out her tired face for one that looked refreshed.
“You always look beautiful to me.” He stared out the windshield, his jaw tight. “I was a wreck last night. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”
“You didn’t.” Now who’s the liar?
“Em, I said some heavy stuff. I’m not trying to jump the gun. I just want to you know how much I care.”
“It’s okay, Michael. Just understand it’s a bit early for me.”
“I do understand.”
Maybe he did, but he still remained quiet during the rest of the drive.
As they turned from College onto her grandmother’s street, Emily noticed a group of people from the crew standing in front of the house, mulling around the front window. “So much for arriving together on the down low.”
Michael said nothing, peering at the assembled crowd. He parked his truck in front of the house and everyone turned to look at them as they got out of the vehicle. “What’s going on?” he asked as they approached.
Nick greeted them with a nod. “You’re not going to be happy.”
“Why not?”
Emily didn’t notice the damage until a few of the crew members shifted in their places on the lawn. Only then was her eye drawn toward the jagged glass. The front picture window had been smashed. She walked toward the window, stunned. Emily had seen enough episodes of Handymen to understand it wasn’t a case of faulty windows. She’d also seen enough episodes of Law and Order to understand someone had done this with intent. The house had been targeted. As she drew closer, she saw the shards of glass inside the front room, a clear indication the missile had come from the outside. Someone with a grudge had stood before the house she loved and had vandalized it.
Her heart bottomed out. She couldn’t have felt worse if someone had set a light to all her grandmother’s old photos.
“Fuck.” Michael ran his hand through his hair.
“There’s more,” said Nick, pulling the two of them aside. “We’ve kept the crew from entering the house, but Eli and Lacey and I went in when we first got here. Whoever did this threw a brick at the window. The brick was wrapped in paper. Someone wrote the word ‘whore’ on it.” He looked up under his lashes at Emily. “I’m sorry.”
Shock gave way to a sense of violation as Emily considered the implications of the foul word. “I want to see it.”
“Em,” said Michael. “Don’t.”
She didn’t listen. She plowed inside the house, Michael and Nick on her heels. Sure enough, the brick still lay on the floor. Ripped paper clung to the missile, fastened by a couple of lengths of twine. It had been wrapped up like a malicious present. Against the white paper, the red lettering blared.
Whore.
She couldn’t bear to look at it. She raced back outside toward the driveway, gulping fresh air in an attempt to lighten the tightness in her chest. However, as soon as she thought about all the work that had been done on the house, her grandmother’s home, her hands began to shake with anger. So much money, so much pride, and lots of energy spent by the Handymen crew. Now she’d have to deal with police reports and insurance claims on top of everything else.
Michael and Nick followed her out. Michael touched her shoulder.
“Why would anyone do this? Who would do this?”
“Do you really need to ask?” He turned to Nick. “Did anyone see anything? Where the hell is Blake?”
Lacey walked over. “Blake arrived right after we did. He called it in to the police. He’s just finishing up with them on the phone.” She called out to the assembled members of the team. “The police will want to have a look inside. Everyone, grab a coffee. We might be waiting a while.”
As they dispersed, Emily touched her forehead. It was clammy. Not good. As if in agreement, her stomach lurched.
Michael put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around, shielding her from the sight of the window. He hugged her tight, his breath coming hard. “I’ll kill him.”
She extricated herself from his grip. “Surely you don’t think Trent…?”
“Em, come on. Who else?”
She wanted to give him alternatives but couldn’t think of any.
Their security guard Blake appeared from around the corner, cellphone against his ear. He waved at Michael, a signal to join him.
“The police need to know about your situation with Trent,” said Michael. “If you won’t tell them, I will.” He stormed off to talk to the security guard.
Emily couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The idea the man she used to love might stoop so low almost knocked the wind out of her. Never mind Michael killing him, she suspected Chris would want a go as well. She could almost see the two of them, wielding pitchforks, at the head of a mob of angry villagers.
No. She couldn’t attribute this level of malice to her ex-fiancé. They’d had their issues but Trent would never call her a whore. He might be an idiot and a narcissist but he wasn’t a gangster.
Eli appeared at her side. “Take a load off, Em. Why don’t you wait in the truck where you can sit down?”
What he really meant was she should sit where she didn’t have to stare at the window. She didn’t argue and let herself be led back down the driveway. As they passed Lacey on the driveway, Emily heard the director mutter to one of the crew.
“It’s been nothing but drama with this shoot. Disappearing fiancés, a romp with the leading man, and now this. Talk about playing havoc with my schedule. Our DIY show has become a bloody soap opera.” She shot off a mean-spirited look at Emily and marched down the sidewalk, cigarette dangling from her red-tipped fingers.
Whore. The word burned in Emily’s side like a brand. She could almost smell the burned flesh. Or was that the stench of her violation? Her stomach churned but not with hunger pangs. When she swallowed, her saliva tasted of acid.
“Don’t listen to her, Em,” cautioned Eli. “She’s the biggest drama queen of them all.”
Revulsion, pure and insidious, wormed its way up from Emily’s core, burning her throat. She tried to swallow the bile but it wouldn’t be contained. She raced to the edge of the driveway, hurled herself over one of Eli’s new shrubs, and vomited.
Not Trent. Anyone but him.
As her shame spewed forth in hot, greasy chunks, she heard the sound of heavy boots pounding the pavement. Two large hands appeared on her shoulders, massaging her trembling frame. “I’m right here, Dimples. Right here.”
She spat the remains of her breakfast, grimacing and gagging. Michael helped her stand straight.
One of the makeup ladies brought over a wet cloth. “Here you go, honey. The police will catch him, you’ll see. What was that about the fury of a woman scorned? If you ask me, men are the loose cannons.”
Everyone thought Trent did this.
Michael took the cloth and wiped her face, cradling her cheeks with such gentleness. “After we speak to the police, I’m taking you home and I’m going to run you a hot bath.”
“No. You heard Lacey. We’re already behind schedule.”
“What does she know? I’m head of contracting on this site and we’re doing fine. I’ll talk to her myself. As for the window, I have about four window guys who owe me big favors. I’m going to light some fires, so to speak. You watch. We’ll have a new one installed in no time.”
“I appreciate it, but if it’s all the same to you, I don’t want to go home.”
“Em.”
“I mean it, Michael. I want to be kept busy. I’m not going anywhere.”
He frowned, but little by little, the knit in his eyebrows relaxed into an arch of approval. “Careful. Your Nonna Olivia is showing.”
“It’s a good thing she’s not here. She would have already started going door-to-door, interrogating the neighbors.”
“We don’t need a detective to tell us who did this. This has Trent’s signature all over it.”
“That’s the thing though. It doesn’t. In all my time with Trent, even after he was fired, I never saw him demonstrate this sort of behavior.”
“Love can make people do crazy things, especially when we lose it.”
“I hear you, but this is probably a case of neighborhood teens looking for a cheap thrill.”
“No, this is personal. He knows you’re with me now and it’s pissing him off. This is Trent getting revenge.” His lips compressed and he lowered his voice. “You saw what he wrote on the brick, Em. He called you a…I can’t even say it.”
“But…”
“Please don’t defend him to me. He’s a prick and he was terrible to you. End of story.”
As Michael walked with her into the house, Emily worried the story was far from over.
***
“I don’t care what the police said,” argued Michael. “I want to talk to Trent myself.”
If Emily didn’t know any better, she’d swear the vein at Michael’s temple was throbbing. With each passing hour since the smashed window was discovered, he’d grown more agitated. Now, at the end of the day, even after one of his window guys had come to take measurements for a window replacement, he seemed ready to head out on his own in search of Trent.
“You heard them. He cooperated and he was able to provide an alibi for his whereabouts last night.” Indeed, when pressed, Trent had apparently admitted he’d spent the night with a woman he’d picked up at a bar. The woman had confirmed he’d spent the entire night with her. The information had stung, but it would have hurt a lot more to know Trent had deliberately damaged her house. So he’d had another night of debauchery with some other woman. It hardly mattered now.
“I don’t care, Em. This stinks.”
“I know, but thank God there’s comprehensive insurance. The repair work will be covered.” She nodded at the window Michael had boarded up himself. “Hell, the new window will look so nice I’ll have to get all the others done now to match it.”
He embraced her and leaned his forehead against hers. “I don’t trust him.”
“You need to let this go, Michael. Trent might do a lot of things, but he wouldn’t destroy my property. He just got a new job. He wouldn’t jeopardize it.”
“I don’t believe this was a case of neighborhood hooligans running amok.”
“It’s just a window. As annoying as this has been, the important thing is no one got hurt.”
“This time.” Michael looked her in the eye. He caressed her cheek, slowly running his thumb along the arch of her eyebrow. She wanted to run her own fingers over his brow and smooth out the furrows. He looked so stern, so concerned. He’d taken the incident to heart. As much as Emily appreciated how much he cared, it also scared her a little. The man already suffered from headaches and flashbacks. She didn’t want to add to his stress.
If only he would put it behind them.
“I hate the idea someone would do this to you.”
“It probably wasn’t even meant for me. Some idiot got bored and decided to pull a prank. This sort of thing happens all the time.”
“I don’t know about that. And anyway, this time it happened to you.”
His eyes turned down at the corners in sadness. Emily wondered that he could feel the injury more keenly than she did. Of course, knowing what she knew of Michael, he didn’t take injustices lightly. He was a fixer and wanted to fix it. For her.
“Today’s been stressful,” she said, massaging his shoulders, trying to ease his worries away. “Let’s forget about it.”
It occurred to her she sounded a bit like Michael now, trying to evade the issue rather than deal with it.
“Okay, but I won’t let this go. If Trent was involved…”
“He wasn’t. I’m sure of it.” She rested her head against his chest. “Can’t we just go somewhere and get naked?”
His quiet chuckled warmed her heart. “Sure. I’d love to get naked with you.”
From somewhere over her shoulder, she heard a feminine huff. “Excuse me.”
They turned to face Lacey.
“I guess I should congratulate you guys. Aren’t you adorable?”
Neither of them said anything. Emily wasn’t sure what sort of reaction Lacey wanted, but she wasn’t about to give it to her. Everyone on the set had been supportive today, all except Lacey. She understood. The woman had feelings for Michael, and clearly the emotions hadn’t dissipated, but her sense of compassion only went so far. If Lacey was nicer, Emily might care more about sparing her feelings.
“Seeing as you’re joined at the hip,” Lacey said, “maybe you can talk some sense into this man.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is I have to respond to our producers. Michael, you haven’t circled back to me about the idea we discussed.”
“Lacey,” Michael said, his voice lowered in warning. “I told you I want nothing to do with the families from the daycare incident.”
“You’re being stubborn. You’ve always been stubborn, but this idea is non-negotiable. The show is happening, whether you like it or not.”
“I can’t see it happening if I’m not around, that is unless you’re planning on hiring a hero stand-in.”
“Are you threating to walk, and after everything I’ve done for you?”
“I had a life before this show. I can go back to it very easily.”
Emily touched his arm. “Maybe if Lacey explained what format the show would take.”
“No, Em. I don’t care if she brings in trained elephants and magicians. I’m not doing the goddamned show, not with those people.”
“Those people,” said Lacey, “want to thank the man who saved their children from a gun-wielding maniac.”
Emily knew she’d promised to take Michael’s side, but she couldn’t help wondering if it might help for him to at least hear Lacey’s idea in full. Perhaps the show wouldn’t deal so much with the Ashton incident. Perhaps the producers wanted to make it more of a feel-good experience, helping the families move forward. “Just hear her out for a second, okay?”
His frustration escaped in a small sigh, but it seemed to fill the entire room with disappointment. “You too? You said you’d support me in this.”
“I do but…”
“You know what? You’re right, Em. It’s been a long day and it’s only getting longer.”
“You’re not even giving me a chance to explain.”
“When it comes to this subject, there’s nothing to explain. I don’t want to do the show and I’m going home.”
Emily edged her shoulder, angling away from Lacey, and lowered her voice. “Alone?”
“It might for the best. But I’ll follow you home in my truck and walk you in to make sure you get home safely.”
“If that’s what you want.”
His clipped nod smarted like a slap across the face. He headed into the other room to gather up his things and Emily realized she had to move or she’d look pathetic, staring at her man as he walked away. She rallied and turned, trying to remember where she’d left her bag.
Lacey’s shrewd eyes narrowed. “Good luck, sister. You’re going to need it.”
“Lacey, wait.”
The brunette turned back and put a hand on her hip.
“Michael and I…we didn’t go looking for this.”
“So it just happened, as they say?”
“Well…”
“Let me tell you something. I don’t know what happened between you and Trent and, frankly, I couldn’t care less. I will, however, share what happened with me and Michael. I cheated on him with my ex, not because I felt anything for the man, but because he fulfilled a need. After being in a mind-numbing void with Michael, I needed to feel something. Michael’s a good guy, I’ll give him that. I still care for him, more than I probably should, but he’s closed off when it comes to real emotions. He might blame our break up on other things, and he’d be partially right, but the fact is he never let me in. He keeps everyone at a distance, even more so since he stopped that man from blowing up the daycare. I would love for him to be able to move on from that day, but he’ll never do it until he confronts it. So enjoy your little fling, but if you want my advice, you’ll get out now.”
Even after Lacey walked away, her words hung heavy around Emily, like wet clothes, weighing her down.
He keeps everyone at a distance.
After Trent’s betrayal, the last thing Emily needed was a man who didn’t share his soul. Yes, it was early days, but she could tell her feelings for Michael ran deep and she knew he felt the same. Right now, his attentions made her feel giddy and desirable, but at some point they’d have to decide on whether or not they could have a future together. Could she love a man who refused to face his feelings?
He emerged from the other room, keeping his gaze level with her shoulders, but never her eyes. “I’m ready if you are.”
“I’ll just get my purse.”
“I’ll wait outside.”
As he walked away, Emily got the sense a space was opening between them, one of his own creation. It might turn into a chasm if she wasn’t careful. Although she knew it made little sense, the idea of losing Michael hurt even more than seeing Trent kiss Veronica. The more time she spent with Michael, the more Trent seemed to fade into the distance, like a worrisome cloud drifting into someone else’s horizon.
He followed her home in his truck, just as he said he would. Emily had snuck several peeks in the rearview mirror, but every time she spied the drawn lines on Michael’s face, she felt more and more helpless. When they arrived at her condo, she headed toward the underground parking and he circled toward the visitor parking lot. She parked her car and headed toward the entrance of the building where they agreed to meet.
Within a few minutes, he arrived at the door and she let him in. “You don’t have to come up. I’m fine.”
“With everything that’s been happening, I’d like to see you right to your door, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay.”
They were silent as they headed toward the elevator. Once in the elevator, the silence swarmed her and she wanted to babble, say anything, just to cut the tension. However, she took a moment to breathe and plan her words. A dull ache had materialized at the back of her head but she disregarded it.
When Emily opened her condo door, Michael entered first and turned on the lights, on his insistence. He was careful to check all the rooms. He returned to the living room and she greeted him with a sigh. “Thank you, but I’m sure there’s no need to look in the closets and under the bed.”
“Damn. I forgot to look under the bed.” He shrugged. “That was a joke, a bad one.”
She didn’t laugh.
“I get it, Em. I may have overreacted about the broken window, but I feel protective toward you.”
“I’ve never been the focus for any crazy stalkers.”
“I’d be willing to guess Jane Ashton thought the same thing.” He cast a final glance about the room. “I’m going to head home.”
“Michael, I’m not sure what you need from me.”
“I don’t need anything. Please don’t worry.”
“I want you to know I’m on your side. You do know that, right?”
“I do.”
“I just don’t want you to make any difficult decisions without seeing the full picture.”
He stared at her belt buckle.
“I’d love for you to stay tonight. We could just grab a pizza and hang out.”
“Thanks, but I could use some time alone to clear my head. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Before he left, he gave her a peck on the cheek. Emily didn’t think any kiss had ever felt so cold.
Once he was gone, her tiny condo struck her as cavernous, hollow. Emily turned on the radio, filling the space with the sounds of her favorite band Blue Rodeo, just so she wouldn’t feel alone. Firing up her laptop, she carried the computer to the kitchen table. After making herself a cup of blueberry tea, she sat and began typing a variety of keywords into the search engine.
PTSD. Victims. How to help?
A number of articles filled her screen and she began clicking through them. One, in particular, caught her attention.
Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is a mental illness. Victims may have been exposed to trauma involving death or the threat of death, sexual violence, or injury. The trauma often comes as a surprise and can leave victims with a sense of powerlessness. Many assume PTSD to be connected with military personnel, as a result of living through war or conflict. However, victims of crimes, natural disasters, or accidents can also suffer from the condition. Even those who witness tragedies are known to sometimes suffer from PTSD.
PTSD can cause symptoms such as nightmares and flashbacks. Those living with the condition may often avoid events or things that remind them of the tragedy.
Those with PTSD endure a variety of effects. They may have trouble concentrating or may feel nervous. They might be moody or experience sleep deprivation. They may often worry something bad is going to occur, even if there is no need for such concern.
Many victims experience guilt or shame. They may struggle with the idea they should be able to “get over it.” Victims may have difficulty discussing their fears with others. Some may even feel they inadvertently caused the trauma. Anyone suffering from PTSD should seek professional help.
Emily consulted a few more articles, making sure to check resources such as medical journals and websites from mental health organizations. They all detailed more or less the symptoms Michael was experiencing.
He needed help.
She’d get it for him.
He might think she was interfering. Hell, he might very well hate her by the time she was done, but her bruised feelings weren’t as important as his peace of mind. He deserved serenity and freedom, and she would do everything in her power to ensure he was never scared to face his past again.
Emily picked up her phone and dialed her brother Chris’s cellphone. “Hey. I have a question for you. Are you still dating that psychologist?”