“How do you figure?” I sniffle, wiping the tears away with the back of my hand.

He glances at me, and I’m taken aback by the darkness haunting his eyes. “Emery, everyone is crazy in their own way if you really look at it. You don’t have to let it own you. Be who you are and don’t be ashamed of it.”

His words strike my heart deep, making me pause to think. Could it really be that easy? Could I just live my life, accepting my crazy?

“What about Ryler?” I ask, pushing to my feet. “He told Father about last night. Why would he do that?”

Ellis shrugs, facing me. The sunlight hits his back, causing his body to appear as nothing more than a shadow. “Only he can answer that.”

“So, I should ask him?”

“If you think you should.”

“What do you think? Can I trust him?”

He smiles sadly. “Always asking the wrong questions.”

I shake my head in frustration. “And you always answer everything in riddles. It makes it difficult to figure out what to ask.”

“Perhaps, but life has never been easy for you or me. Life has been full of evil, and if you don’t start asking the right questions, the evil is going to be the end of you.” He fades in and out.

A split second later, I’m standing in the living room by myself with his words echoing in my head. The evil is going to be the end of you.

It sounds like an omen, that if I don’t figure stuff out, my death may be coming. A death brought on by evil.

Chapter 5

The Truth Stings

Ryler

The morning after Emery and I go to the concert, I sneak out of her bed in the early hours of sunrise and head back to my place. It took a lot of effort to leave her warmth, and I missed it almost instantly. But I had to get home and put the wall back up between work and want. My job comes first and getting heavily involved with Emery is going to mess that up. We need to be friends somehow. I just can’t figure out how.

I lie in my bed well into the afternoon, sporadically working on the assignment and wondering about Emery. Does she remember last night at all? If so, does that mean that perhaps she won’t be as cold and distant toward me anymore?

She’s consuming my mind. Part of me wants to say to hell with my job and just let her consume me; run away with her and never look back. The revelation is striking. The last time I had intense feelings like this was toward Aura, and that got me into a shit load of trouble.

I can’t let myself get into that kind of trouble again.

Around two in the afternoon, I slip on a clean T-shirt along with my boots, then head upstairs to check on Emery, like Doc has instructed me to do every day.

Halfway out the door, I receive a text from Doc.

Doc: If Emery asks, you told

me that she went out last night. I know this sounds strange, but she needs to believe that you told me.

My heart skips a beat as I read the message. I pause in the stairway, lighting up a cigarette as I try to think of how to respond.

Me: Okay.

I hesitate, not wanting to ask, but needing to know just how much trouble I’m going to be in.

Me: How did you know we went out?

Doc: I have my sources. Don’t worry, Ryler, you’re not in trouble. I know my daughter is hard to resist. I know she’s the one who instigated going out in the first place and you were just giving in to her.

Me: That’s not quite how it happened.

Doc: You don’t need to cover for her. I know the truth, Ryler.

Me: The truth is I took her out last night. It was all on me. I’m sorry.

Doc: I didn’t text for a confession, Ryler. I simply texted you to make sure that if Emery asks how her mother and I found out about her going out last night—which trust me, she will ask—you are to tell her that you informed me because it’s your job.

It feels like there’s a threat hidden in his words, a do-or-else-you’re-dead sort of thing. Not seeing another alternative other than refusing and risk losing everything I’ve built over the last eight months, I text that I agree to do it. Then I put my phone away, and finish off the cigarette while mentally cursing myself.

I kick the wall a few times, wishing I could scream until my lungs burst. God, I fucking hate this double life. I want out, but I have to finish first; otherwise, I’m walking back to a life almost as equal shitty as this one.

One of my neighbors walks out in the middle of my meltdown and gives me a horrified look. Unable to verbally apologize to him, I stop beating the wall with my foot. Then I collect myself and drag my feet toward Emery’s place.

It’s mid-June, and the temperature is in the nineties. The sunlight blares down on me as I ascend the stairs and heats up the fabric of my black pants and T-shirt. For a moment, I wish I was a shorts and tank kind of guy, wish I was a different guy in a different life, but changing my clothes isn’t going to make that possible.

When I reach Emery’s door, I feel weighted down by what I’m about to do. I pause, mentally preparing myself before using the key to get inside. I slam to a stop the second I step foot into the living room.

Emery is sitting on the sofa, staring at the coffee table with her hands on her lap, and her back is as rigid as a board. There’s nothing on the table, though, except a half-eaten bag of chips.

I walk around so I can catch her eye. When she looks up at me, I move my hands, “Is everything okay?”

She shakes her head with her eyes fixed on me. “No, I don’t think it is.”

Something’s off. I think about the text Doc just sent me and wonder if that’s what might be behind this.