Chapter Twenty-Seven
Aiden
Emma makes a mean stir-fry. It’s got flavor and spice. We light the candle we bought at the store. We drink red wine. We talk about normal things: our favorite movies and music and places. Like me, she’s into black-and-white cinema. Her favorite film is Casablanca, though, whereas mine is Hell’s Angels.
We laugh and talk and eat. As good as this feels, we’re still not normal, probably because we’re not free. I see every question on the tip of her tongue. I see it in the way she worries her lower lip and how she looks at me. She’s wondering about my nightmares and the secrets I hold. As long as this barrier looms over us, I will never be real with her. I have a huge “no trespassing” sign blocking us.
“You had another nightmare in the car,” she says. “When I was driving.”
“Did I? Must be something I ate.”
“What was it about?”
“I don’t remember.”
She doesn’t accept the lie. Not this time. She puts her hand over mine. “Whatever it is, I can take it. I just want you to let me in.”
“What do you want from me, Emma?”
“I get that you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m worried about you.”
I almost choke on a water chestnut. “You’re worried about me?”
“No one should have the number of nightmares you have. Maybe if you talked about it, it would help.”
“Cooper, I’ve been having nightmares for a long time. Talking about all the bad shit in your life doesn’t make it better.”
“How would you know, Aiden?”
“Why do you push, Emma?”
“Because you pull. You pull away. I don’t want you to. I see you struggling with something. I just want to take you away from it.”
“You get off on this, don’t you? You enjoy how fucked up I am.”
She scrapes her chair back. She takes her plate and mine, heading toward the sink.
“Emma…”
She lets out a frustrated sigh and slams my plate back on the table. Good thing it’s plastic. “You’re wrong, Aiden. I’m not looking to fix you. I don’t get off on your hurt. You made my problems yours when you said we were an us. Doesn’t ‘us’ go both ways?” She rifles through her bag, taking out her pajamas. “You can clean up, since I cooked.” She holds her shoulders stiff, the gesture at odds with the way her voice cracks.
I gather our dishes and clean up the tiny kitchen. I slam my fist on the table as the water turns on. Is she crying in there? I want to let her in, but how can I? She won’t look at me as the strong man I’ve scrapped and fought to be. She’ll see me as the weak, scarred person I really am. I’ll bring her down with me into the dark places where light barely surfaces. I’ll change her perceptions about her own world. I promised myself I would not take away her innocence, but that’s exactly what I am going to do.
The bathroom is full of steam when I walk in. I strip and open the curtain.
“Can I join you?”
She shrieks.
“Well, I’ve never had that reaction before.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack, Sheffield? What’s up with the Norman Bates routine?”
I laugh, rubbing her shoulders. “Sorry, angel, I wasn’t thinking. May I come in?”
She nods, stepping back for me. I close the curtain and focus on the small gap between us. She looks at my chest, then up at me as if she’s asking for permission. I take her hand and place it against my heart. She runs it down my body. Her fingers caress each scar, each burn, each slash. I almost back away from her, but I force myself to allow her touch. It frightens and calms me at the same time. She looks pained when she stares at them.
“Do they hurt?”
“Not anymore.” At least, not physically.
I lean my head back, the warm water rushes against my body. I take the soap and lather it up in my hands, before rubbing her down. She takes it from me and mimics my movements, lathering me up. There’s not enough soap in the world to scrub away the darkness. I wash her hair with the bottle of strawberry peppermint shampoo she has brought into the shower. She attempts to do the same for me, standing on her tiptoes. The whole time we just stare at each other.
I’m feeling more than just naked. I’m completely exposed. I think she can see right through to my sorry soul.
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t let me lose you.”
“You won’t.”
She kisses my chest and every piece of marred flesh. It’s more emotional than sexual.
I pull her against my chest and wrap my arms around her. She embraces me tightly, not saying a word and yet speaking volumes. I’ve never had someone hold me like this. She holds me for a solid twenty minutes with her only intention being to soothe me. It’s a pretty fucking amazing feeling. Everyone should have a moment like this at least once in their lifetime. This one is mine. I’m gonna cherish it forever.
The heavy cloud of steam around us dissipates as the water turns cold. She shivers in my arms, but she doesn’t let go. I get a grip on the situation and turn off the faucet. She dries me with a towel, and I do the same for her. I carry her, switching off the lights as we go. I lay her on the bed and get in next to her. She turns toward me. Her worried eyes reflect the moonlight coming through the slatted blinds. “I know something horrible happened to you in Afghanistan. Whatever it is, I’m so sorry.”
Of course, she would think that. Hell, I was content in letting her believe it. I interlace my fingers with hers. “I saw some horrible things there, but these scars are older than that.”
She blinks her eyes. “I don’t understand. Who did this to you, Aiden?”
“My father.”
She backs from me, the realization hitting her. “All of them?”
“Yeah.”
She slaps her hand over her mouth. “He tortured you.”
The answer is written all over my body, but I confirm it for her. “Yes.”
“Who is Amy?”
“Your mom.”
She wrinkles her nose in confusion. “Her name was Angela.”
“Not back then. She changed it so my father wouldn’t find her.” I shudder, remembering that visit from Angela. The way I treated her. I will never forgive myself for it.
“She left you with a monster.”
I knew this was where her mind would go first. I pull her against me. “He abused her, too, Emma.”
“He beat her?”
“Yes. He was verbally and physically abusive.” He did other things, too, but she didn’t need all the gruesome details.
She shakes her head. “Why didn’t she get help for herself? And you? Why didn’t she help you instead of running away?” She gasps, the realizations coming to her so fast, I want to shield her from them. “That’s why you’re her greatest regret. She—she left you with a monster.”
“She was so young, Emma. Looking back, I can see that now. Amy came from an abused home and my father pretended to be a knight in shining armor. It wasn’t until he married her that she found out the kind of man he was, which was no kind of man at all. But she was brave, your mother. She always looked out for me however she could.”
Emma digests this information, her heart beating so fast I can feel it against my chest. “She told me her parents died when she was young.”
“They didn’t die, Emma. They still live in Linx. They are God-awful people. The kind that go to church three times a week, but can’t spare an ounce of compassion for their own child. Either way, Amy traded a very bad life for a much worse one.”
“That was her choice.”
I shook my head. “When you’ve been told you’re garbage your entire life, you start to believe it. You get used to it. I know because I believed it for a long time, too.”
Emma starts shaking in my arms. I tighten my grip around her.
“She always flinched whenever anyone raised their voice around her. She was skittish, but I never really understood it. She had scars, too, and I asked her once how she got them. She said she fell off her bike as a kid. I could tell there was more to it, but I never pressed. What kind of daughter was I?”
“A very good one. The kind who dropped out of school to take care of her sick mother. The kind who worked three jobs to keep a house because she wanted to safeguard her parent’s dream. The one who wears her daddy’s watch to honor his memory. They would be very proud of you, Emma. I know it.”
She cries for a while. I hold her, the salty tears falling too quickly for me to wipe away. “I’m angry with her, too.”
“You don’t need to be.”
“Yes, I do!” She pounds her fist against the mattress. “She should have saved you, Aiden. Why didn’t she tell someone? She was the adult. You were the kid. It was her responsibility.”
I stroke her hair, trying to calm her. “We both love small towns, but there are bad things about them, too. My father had a lot of influence and was very good at manipulating situations to his advantage. Besides, I wasn’t her son. She had no legal rights.”
“Still, she could have gone to the police and gotten you both out of there.”
“He was the police, Emma.”
Her eyes widen with disbelief. “But…”
“He was the sheriff, as a matter of fact. People respected and feared him. She tried to get help once, but he had convinced everyone she was nothing but a trailer trash whore who married him for his title and I was a messed-up kid who enjoyed hurting himself. Folks believed it because it was easier than acknowledging they had elected the devil to protect them. The punishment for her betrayal was enough that she never tried again.”
“What was the punishment? What did he do to her?”
“My father didn’t do anything to her. He made her sit in a chair and watch as he burned me with cigarettes.”
Emma looks horrified as if someone was burning her. “She watched?”
“She didn’t want to, but he threatened if she closed her eyes, he’d burn all my flesh away. Watching someone you love get hurt is a million times worse. She stopped trying after that.”
“But she could have come back after she ran away. My dad would have helped her.”
I shook my head. “She was afraid, Emma. She had good reason.”
“There is no good reason for standing aside when you know someone else is suffering, for having the power to help them but not using it.”
“Look, you keep focusing on the fact she left, but why don’t you ask me why she stayed as long as she did?”
“Why?”
“Because of me. She had opportunities to run away, but she didn’t want to leave me with him.”
“But she did.”
“Yeah, eventually she did. And when she left, I did what you’re doing. I blamed her every time he hit me. Every time he shredded another piece of my dignity.” I take a deep breath. “But that is part of the mind-fuck when you’re a victim of abuse. I blamed the wrong people. I blamed her. I blamed me. But it was his fault. No one else made him do those things.”
“You can defend her, but she wasn’t innocent in this.” She looks down at my body, her fingers touching the small circular burns. “How many of these would not be here if she’d stepped up?”
I take her hand and bring it up to my heart. I hope she feels my sincerity. “It doesn’t matter. Look, don’t take on the guilt. Amy felt guilty enough. She carried the burden all her life.”
Emma shuts her eyes tightly. “She was living a perfect existence, Aiden.”
“She was pretending to. Don’t get me wrong—she loved you and your father with all her heart. She loved her life, but her decision tortured her.”
“How do you know that? Because I tell you, she sure as hell put on a good show being the PTA president, making brownies for the bake sale, and randomly dancing with my father in the living room.”
“I know, Emma. I didn’t tell you this because I’m ashamed of myself. Your mother tracked me down. She came to see me about a year ago. She came to Vegas with your father. She left a note at my hotel for me, asking for my forgiveness. The note said she wanted to apologize in person. I met her and your father the next day at a restaurant.”
“Why are you ashamed of that?”
“She begged for my forgiveness. She said she thought about me every day and the remorse weighed her down, making every good thing in her life bitter. Instead of listening to her, I went off on her. I screamed at her, compounding all her shame. I told her in great detail how bad things got after she left.” I swallow hard, recalling the anguish on Amy’s face that day. “I hurt her with my words, Emma. I would go so far as to say I abused her. I felt myself turn into my father for a few minutes, but even that didn’t stop me. Of all the wrongs in my life, that is the worst one. I wish to God I could take that back. Your dad interrupted my tirade. He told me I was never to speak to his wife again. She actually argued with him. She wanted to hear more. She thought she deserved it. It was awful. I was awful to her. Your dad had to drag her away before I completely destroyed her. But I think I broke her spirit all the same. No, I did. I killed her spirit.” I suck in a deep breath, knowing I need to admit this but loathing myself at the same time. “I enjoyed it.”
“That’s why you were crying in front of the urn that first night?”
I tilt my head toward her. “You saw that?”
She nods. “I woke up and saw you. You said you were the one who was sorry.”
“Yeah. She came to me looking for peace because what happened plagued her. It haunted her every day of her life. Instead of giving her the peace she needed, I reaffirmed her guilt.”
“When was this?”
“Around the beginning of June.”
Emma purses her lips. “That’s when she found out she had the cancer. She was trying to relieve her conscience. She knew she was dying.”
“She didn’t tell me about her illness. I’d like to think it would have been different if she had, but I’m pretty sure it would have turned out exactly the same. The point is, a lot of fucked-up things have happened. But this time I’ve spent with you…I can honestly say I have forgiven her with my whole heart. I wish I could have said it to her when she needed me to, but I didn’t have the strength for it. Will you forgive me?”
“Forgive you? You’re asking me to forgive you?”
“Yes.”
“Aiden, I had the kind of childhood they write feel-good books about. There was always laughter and warmth in our house. I always felt safe and loved. You didn’t have any of that. But you could have if someone had stepped in. If she had…” Her voice breaks. “You should hate me.”
I cup the side of her face. “I would tell you that’s ridiculous, but honestly, I did at first. When you showed up, I wanted so badly to throw you out. But Emma, there was something so pure and beautiful about you. How can I hate the one person who is able to shine light on every dark corner? My world was very dark, Emma. And you have so much light.” I kiss her, wanting to punctuate my words with action. “I was stupid to ever put anything on you. I am so happy for every good memory you have, because it’s made you the beautiful, courageous, optimistic woman you are.”
Her mouth trembles. “You didn’t tell me any of this because you didn’t want me to think less of my mother? You wanted to preserve my beliefs?”
“At first I didn’t want you to think less of her. But since I’m going for honesty here, I’ll admit I didn’t want you to think less of me, either. I was going to tell you so many times, but the last thing I wanted was take your innocence away. So, I covered up my past, but not because I didn’t want to let you in. I was trying to save you from it. It’s not pretty, but I am okay now. I don’t want you to pity me.”
She opens her mouth, but I interrupt her because I need to keep talking, before I lose my courage. “When I left home at seventeen, I bought a used car and drove to New York. That’s where I met Carson. His friendship changed my life, but his family…his family made me realize what it means to be cared for. They took me in. His dad treated me like another son. I never took off my shirt in front of anyone, but his dad just knew. He made me get therapy. Then when I joined the Marines, I felt part of an even bigger family. I learned self-confidence and real discipline. I still see a therapist in Butte Falls. He’s actually more of a shaman, a friend of Mac’s. We go on hikes, and his teachings are spiritual. I’ve come a long way from the weak, broken kid I was, but that kid still resurfaces sometimes. He still lashes out. I’m sorry I hurt Amy. I’m sorry I hurt you, too, sweetheart.”
She shakes her head and hugs me close. “Aiden, you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met. When someone goes through all the things you did, I’d expect him to be bitter and mean. To have a chip on their shoulder the size of Arizona.”
I laugh, but it doesn’t sound like my usual one. It’s not as heavy, my confessions freeing up a chain or two. “Haven’t you met me? I am those things.”
“No, you’re not. You risked your life to fight for me…for everyone in this country. You rescue animals and give them a second life. You are the boy who protected my memories. From the moment I met you, I knew you were more shield than sword. I thought it was to keep people out, and it was. But now, I see that I was always behind that shield with you. I am in awe of you, Aiden Sheffield, and I’m honored to be a part of your pack. In my book, you are always going to be the hero.”
Her words, spoken with such sincerity, almost make me spill the rest of my truths. But I can’t do it. It’s enough for one night. More than enough.
Emma, I always want to be that man you see. I always want to make you proud of me.
“Thank you,” I simply say, trying to choke down the emotion threatening to surface. My God, before the night I forgave Amy, I hadn’t cried since I was a kid. Although, it was painfully crippling, I didn’t cry when I lost my brothers on the battlefield. I didn’t cry all the times I had to bury a dog. I didn’t cry when I almost died of hypothermia on the side of a frozen mountain. I honestly thought I couldn’t cry. That I wasn’t capable of it anymore. But if she says one more thing, I might just do it.
She doesn’t, thank God. There is no pity on her face, only love and concern. I swallow down my emotion. She lays her head over my heart, and our limbs tangle together. I stare at the ceiling for a long time. There is nothing to count on its smooth surface. I focus instead on the shifting shadows the moonlight makes against it. She traces the word freedom inked on the deep gash at my side. She wants me to tell her about it.
“Aiden…”
“No, sweetheart. No more tonight.”
“No more, baby. I promise. Tell me what you need.”
I pull her up and kiss her gently. “I need you.”
“You have me.”
“Emma, I’m not romantic, so this is gonna come out so fucked-up, but I have to fuck you right now. I need to do something physical with you.”
She doesn’t question it. Her hungry kiss is affirmation enough. It feels different than the other times, because I’ve let her in. I tell her with my hungry mouth and hands and tongue how much I need her. She reciprocates in kind. She sits up, groping the nightstand until she finds my wallet. She rips the gold foil packet between her teeth. As she strokes me, I almost lose it.
“Emma…”
“Let me drive, Aiden,” she says in a low whisper.
She climbs on top of me, her long, damp hair falling over my face. She fucks me fast and hard. Grasping her waist, I sit up, ready to flip us, my need to be in charge overpowering everything, but something in her expression stops me. She throws her arms around my shoulders and holds me tight.
The rhythm slows down. I bury my head in her neck. We cling to each other with desperation. I crave nothing more than this moment and all the moments that follow with her. It’s time to forget the broken roads of the past, and look toward the bright horizon line.
I should know better.
I learned a long time ago, you can’t outrun darkness.