Church. Page 12

  While Emma watched, the girl gathered her belongings. She seemed nervous, like it was her first day at school. She dropped a folder full of papers everywhere. She’d barely collected them all when she tripped over her bag’s strap. Her cheeks turned bright red and she finally got herself together enough to scamper out of the room.

  Interesting.

  “Did you need help with anything, Ms. Hartley?” the teacher asked, his voice crisp.

  Jeez, you beat up one local, and suddenly everyone doesn’t like you.

  “Not really, just some questions for Ch-, er, Paul,” she said, finally getting out of her seat.

  “Right. Lock up when you’re done, Paul,” the teacher instructed, then he grabbed his messenger bag and headed out of the room. By the time Emma reached Church, the door had swung shut with a heavy thud.

  “Pretty girl,” she commented. He nodded, not looking up from the tests he was grading.

  “Yes, she is, isn’t she.”

  She sighed and sat on the edge of his desk.

  “I’m not into threesomes, sorry to say.”

  “Sorry to hear it, but I don’t want to fuck her.”

  “Oh.”

  “I have much more interesting plans for her.”

  “Oh.”

  “And you’re going to help me.”

  “And what exactly am I helping you with?” she questioned.

  “You’re going to prove your loyalty to me.”

  So this is what he’d been talking about the other day, in his car. When he’d said he’d be requiring her to do things. She would’ve thought all those days spent in his bedroom would’ve satisfied him. Apparently they hadn’t.

  “Can I ask why that girl?” she asked. He still didn’t look up at her.

  “Do you need a reason?”

  “No.”

  She could feel his smirk.

  “How about she exists. Because she’s pretty, and her life is simple, and she’s never known the kind of bullshit you and I have had to deal with.”

  That actually did kind of make Emma feel better.

  “So because she’s privileged, she deserves your wrath,” she clarified.

  Church finally dropped his pen and sat back in his chair. He stared at her for moment, then grabbed her wrist and pulled her around the desk. She made herself comfortable in his lap.

  “Let’s just say it’s because she’s had the very unfortunate luck to catch my eye.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? Just like that, okay? Okay, you’ll jump into the unknown with me? Okay you’ll do anything I tell you to do?” he asked, combing his fingers through her long hair, brushing it back from her face.

  “Just like that, okay.”

  “You are simply stunning,” he sighed, moving his fingers to trace along the bridge of her nose.

  “You’re just saying that because I’m even crazier than you are,” she forced out a laugh. His finger was now outlining her lips.

  “I’m saying it because it’s true. Because all my life, I’ve waited to meet someone as perfect as you. Someone I can share these kinds of moments with. Someone who goes beyond fantasy. You, Emma Hartley, are stone cold reality. Being with you is like being alive. It’s invigorating.”

  His finger was in her mouth, pressing down on her tongue. She was sucking on it, then it was gone and she was sucking on his tongue.

  Something was different. His tone of voice, his eyes, his touch. He was always intense, always too much, but this was something else. He’d been looking at her like it was the first time he’d ever really noticed her. Like he was really seeing her. Now he was kissing her like he wanted to devour her, his fingers leaving flames in their wake as they raced across her skin. It almost felt like maybe, just maybe, he was starting to feel something for her. Maybe even starting to fall for her. Before her heart could soar, though, Logical Emma tried to rear her ugly head.

  No. He said he’d never love you. He said he didn’t know what love was. He doesn’t love you. He can’t.

  But Logical Emma was no longer in charge. Dark Emma was, and Dark Emma gave absolutely zero shits about anything beyond the man in front of her and the hope that he could someday learn to love her. He filled the gaping holes in her broken shell of an existence. So who cared if he didn’t quite love her yet? Whatever he was starting to feel, it was good enough right now, and right now was all that mattered.

  “I’ll do it,” she breathed against his mouth as his hands forced their way into her pants. “I’ll do anything you want, Church. Just don’t ever stop talking to me.”

  “Never. I’ll never stop with you, Emma.”

  “HI, I’M EMMA.”

  The dining hall. Half the people in the room were making it a point to ignore her. The other half wouldn’t stop staring at her. Stacey looked confused, and though she couldn’t see him, Emma knew Church was watching from the shadows in the hallway.

  “We’re going to have some fun,” he’d whispered in her ear.

  “Fun?”

  “Yes. Go. Be her friend. Make her like you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.”

  And then she’d been gently shoved into the room, a bright, sunny smile plastered on her face. Emma Hartley, the girl who was oh-so-good at pretending to be normal. She’d marched right up to the pretty brunette girl, who’d been sitting alone at the end of a long table.

  “Oh, hi,” she stammered, then dropped her pencil. Both of them bent down to grab it.

  “Sorry to startle you,” Emma chuckled, handing the writing utensil over before taking a seat.

  “You didn’t, not really. I’m just a little flustered today,” the girl chuckled.

  Today? I’m willing to bet every day.

  “Oh yeah? How come?”

  “I just moved here this summer, and it’s my first time living away from home. I haven’t quite settled in yet, and the course work is harder than I thought it would be.”

  “Sounds an awful lot like my life,” Emma laughed, keeping her voice light and gentle. Non-threatening. The girl smiled back at her.

  “I’m Lizzie.”

  Elizabeth Renny. She was twenty years old. She’d gone to a community college in St. Louis, where her family lived, but she’d transferred to Emma’s quaint little school just that summer. She’d received some promotional emails about the college’s excellent botany program, which had led her to several scholarship applications. She’d actually qualified for several, so the switch had been a no-brainer.

  She was average height, but thin. Slender, even. She had large, beautiful blue eyes, and soft, dark brown hair. Even though she wasn’t particularly tall, she was long limbed, giving her a lanky, coltish look. She looked young, and she acted young. Absurdly, Emma’s first instincts were to protect the girl. The world would chew this one up and spit her out, first chance it got.

  And I’m going to help.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve heard of me,” Emma decided to get the elephant in the room out of the way. Lizzie struggled to hold onto her smile.

  “Yeah, something about a fight, I guess? I don’t really listen to gossip.”

  “Good for you. And I promise, I don’t beat up everyone I sit down with,” she teased.

  “That’s good to know.”

  “Hey, so, I figure us new people have to stick together,” she thought quick. “I haven’t seen you out and about at all. Why don’t you give me your number and address, and if I hear of anything going on, we can go together.”

  Perhaps a little bold, but Church wanted Emma to be friends with this girl. He had plans for this girl. Most likely nefarious ones. Emma had to become the non-threatening bridge between the two.

  “That would be fun, Emma, thanks. I haven’t made very many friends,” Lizzie seemed relieved as she scribbled her info down on a scrap of paper.

  “It’s hard in towns like this. But I have a friend or two, we can share them,” Emma assured her, tucking the piece of paper into her back
pocket. “I gotta go, but it was great meeting you, Lizzie. I’ll talk to you this weekend, for sure.”

  “Thanks Emma.”

  She waved goodbye and casually strolled back out of the cafeteria, waving at Stacey, as well. When she got to the hallway, though, Church wasn’t standing there anymore. He wasn’t at his car, either. She sighed and looked around.

  Well, I hoped you liked the show, Church. See you at home.

  But she didn’t. Not that afternoon, not that evening, and not even the next morning.

  He stayed gone for the whole night.

  EMMA.

  The problem with obsession is absence. When the object of your obsession disappears, what are you? Do you even exist?

  I spent my alone time in absolute panic. Church and I had spent almost every moment of five days together – that’s a lot of time for two lonely people. Practically a life time’s worth of touching and learning and growing. The only times we spent apart were when he was at work, and I knew he was there. I knew where he was, I knew in theory I could go there and see him and be with him.

  This, though, this not knowing bullshit … I felt like I’d been abandoned, and like he’d taken all my oxygen with him.

  I understand our relationship, or at least I thought I did. I know I’m the obsessed one. He’s the crazy one. He’s definitely in the power position. I’m the one who stands to lose the most if one of us just walks away. I’m the one with the addictive personality problem.

  When I was around eight years old, Margo and I were on the move. We actually lived at a KOA campground for about a month – she was between men. The school I was going to found out, I was assigned a social worker. They didn’t really think the campground living was that big a deal, but they were concerned about me.

  I had this thing. A Halloween decoration, a vampire prop made to float from a ceiling, that I would carry around like a doll. I’d had it for as long as I could remember. And I know, I know, lots of kids have special toys or blankies or whatever. Things they can’t stand being separated from.

  But I guess at eight, it was a little unusual to be so attached to something, and something so strange, at that. And I was beyond attached. I lost my shit whenever someone tried to take it away. The social worker locked it in her desk and I guess I had to be sedated. I screamed and hit and kicked and threw up and pissed myself.

  Apparently that’s not normal behavior, so they launched an even bigger investigation into my mother’s parenting skills. Of course she wasn’t happy about it, but no one can sell “everything is fine” better than Margo Hartley, so she dealt with it all.

  When it was all over, Margo set fire to the vampire prop and made me watch while it burned. Taught me a lesson that just because you love something, that doesn’t mean it’s safe from harm. Doesn’t mean it can’t be ripped from your heart and destroyed forever. Doesn’t mean the one person you trust to take care of you won’t hurt you at any chance they can get.

  So yeah, I guess you could say I’ve always had issues with obsession and abandonment.

  But this time, I have a feeling I’ll be the one who ends up getting burned.

  11

  The next morning, Emma watched Church walk into the college like he did every day. She sat in the commons area, listening to Stacey ramble away, but not hearing a word she said. He didn’t glance at her once, just carried his case down the hall and disappeared from view.

  Did I do something wrong? He told me to talk to her, he told me to get to know her. I did what he asked.

  Emma didn’t have math that day, she didn’t have any excuse to see him. No excuse to even be in that area of the college. She went to her civics class and then her English class. It was early afternoon, by then. Stacey invited her to go downtown and get lunch. Her new friend Lizzie asked if she wanted to study for the midterms coming up. Emma decided it was time for the girls to meet.

  “Let’s kill two birds with one stone – we can all work on math together while eating lunch. I’ll meet you in the parking lot, I forgot something in one of my classes.”

  Emma lurked outside the door to Mr. Harker’s room. There was no class in session, but the teacher was in there. He and Church were bent over the desk, going over something together. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally broke apart. Mr. Harker was laughing about something, but his assistant remained straight faced as they headed out. Emma kept her back pressed up against the wall.

  “See you tomorrow, Mr. Logan,” Mr. Harker was chuckling.

  Church wasn’t saying anything. Emma didn’t speak either. He got a couple steps, then he stopped walking. Held still. Then he turned around and went back into the classroom. She followed quickly behind him, shutting and locking the door behind her.

  “I was hoping this could wait until we got home,” he sighed, putting his case on the desk. She glared at him.

  “Were you actually going to go home? I wasn’t sure,” she snapped.

  “Don’t be childish, Emma. It doesn’t suit you.”

  “You treat me like a child, so why not?” she replied. “I get it, Church. Whatever this is between us, it’s on your terms. Fine. I’ve accepted that. I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked me to do. I’m even going to lunch with your little girlfriend. At the very least, I’d like some respect in return.”

  He barked out a laugh, and the act seemed to startle him as much as it did her.

  “Respect? Explain to me what I’ve done to disrespect you.”

  “Where were you yesterday?” she hissed, finally marching up to him. “You were gone all night! I had no clue what was going on, Jerry kept asking me about you.”

  “I’ve probably spent more nights away from that house than I’ve actually spent in it. Why is it suddenly a problem?”

  “Is that a joke? Uh, it’s a problem now because – using your own words – we’re together now. You can’t just disappear and not let me know,” she stressed.

  “I have to check in with you before I do anything?” he clarified, one annoying eyebrow arching up.

  “That’s not what I’m saying, and you know it. Where were you?” she demanded. Now his eyes narrowed on her.

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you, Emma. You just have to trust me.”

  “Oh, okay, fine then. Maybe I’ll go out all night. Maybe tonight. You can come home to an empty house and wonder where I am or what I’m doing or who I’m with and if -”

  She let out a startled shriek when he grabbed her roughly by the arm and started propelling her backwards. The door to the supply closet was yanked open and she was shoved inside.

  “I guess when I asked if you understood me,” he was growling as he turned on the light. “You were lying when you said you did.”

  “No, I -”

  His hand suddenly clamped down over her mouth, his thumb hooking under her jaw to hold it shut.

  “You didn’t,” he spoke in a low voice, leaning down close to glare at her. She felt she was going to drown in his blue gaze “You don’t get to fucking breathe unless I say so, understood? You don’t question the things I do, understood? When I tell you something, you believe me, understood?”

  Oh, she understood, alright. She hoped Church understood when she kicked his balls up into the back of his throat. Before she could pull back her leg, though, he was leaning against her. Pressing her into the wall.

  “I talk to you,” he breathed. “You’re practically the only person I talk to, the only one I let really hear me. The only person I spend any real time with. Why is that not enough for you? I’ve given you more of myself than I’ve ever given anyone, and it’s not enough for you. This is all new for me, too, Emma. Give me time. Do as I ask, and give me time, and let it all just be enough for now.”

  Well, then. She blinked back tears. She’d never really thought of it that way. Church was giving her pieces of himself. He’d said speaking cost him, and apparently she was the one collecting. He’d been gone all night, but he’d been gone plenty of
nights before, he was right. He hadn’t known it would upset her, and instead of explaining that to him, she’d just launched into him.

  I just want to know everything about him. Every day, every minute, every breath. Is that asking so much?

  When he finally moved his hand, lowering it to squeeze around her neck, she tried to vocalize her thoughts.

  “You didn’t come home,” she whispered. “You don’t … I understand you, Church. I do. Or I’m trying to. But … you also have to understand me. I don’t know how to be like this, either; everyone I’ve ever known has hurt me. I’m just waiting for you to hurt me, too.”

  “That’s silly,” he said, and his gaze dropped down to her lips. “If you know it’s going to happen, why are you worrying about it?”

  She’d never thought of it that way, before. Should she really be scared of the inevitable? It sounded ridiculous when put into that context. She might as well be scared of taxes, or the rain, or death.

  “Because I can’t handle it from you. Not from you.”

  He sighed and for a moment, his hand squeezed tight. Cut off her link to the air in the room. She stood completely still, willing herself to pass out.

  She didn’t.

  “So what exactly do you want from me?” he finally asked. She gasped, a little surprised at his candor. A tear slipped out the corner of her eye, and she took a long time to really think about it.

  “I want to know why you didn’t tell me you weren’t coming home. Why you didn’t even think about calling.”

  Now it was Church’s turn to look pained.

  “Honestly? I didn’t think about it. For years, forever, I’ve been the only one I’ve needed to be concerned about – I guess I have to learn to think of you, now.”

  “I guess so. Where were you?”

  He took a deep breath.

  “Somewhere else.”

  “But that’s not …” her voice drifted off as he loomed closer. His lips brushed against hers.