“Donotsay my name like that. It only makes it worse.”
He adjusts my duffle on his shoulder and then follows me outside.
And if it isn’t my motherfucking day. My mom is suddenly in front of me. She’s standing in the shadows of the darkened sidewalk like the goddamn Boogeyman. She couldn’t just let my night be awful; she had to go and make it horrendous.
“Emery,” she says and just my name on her tongue makes my entire body lock down.
Oh god.
My nerves rocket, my vision narrows, and I’m suddenly dizzy. My mouth pools with saliva and my lungs struggle to take in air. I’m a terrified child once again. Adult Emery fades away, all my confidence and strength that I’ve built is shattered. I’m powerless in her presence, always have been, always will be.
“No,” I say, backing away.
“Emery. I just want to talk.”
“Go the fuck away,” I mutter and press into August. He’ll keep me safe. He has before. He can now, even if he doesn’t love me back.
But I’m used to that. No one has ever really loved me.
And my mom sure as fuck doesn’t. I have decades’ worth of proof to back that up.
“I’m so sorry, bae. I’d just really love to talk,” she says andthat voice. Why won’t she stop talking? I gag as I peek over and nearly unload my lunch all over the sidewalk because she has her hands raised like she’s trying to approach a wild animal. Like I’m the dangerous one. Like she’s harmless.
I know better.
I know what she can do.
“Get the fuck away!” I shout and stumble backwards on the sidewalk.
Have to run. Have to get away.
Can’t let them catch me.
Don’t stop. Run.
And then my feet are moving.
“Em!” a voice shouts from behind as me I bolt down the street, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop. I run for blocks. I run until it hurts. A sharp pain lances up my chest and I wheeze as I struggle to catch my breath. I can’t last much longer. I need a break but I can’t will my legs to stop pumping.
A hand shoots out and I’m pulled against a strong body.
I wrench my arm back, elbowing them in the stomach. My feet kick out in front of me, and I grunt.
“Em.”
That voice.
It’shisvoice.
I go limp in his arms, still panting from the exertion.
“Em, baby, I’ve got you,” August says, wrapping me tighter into him. “You’re okay, you’re safe.”
His name slips from my mouth and then I spin around and clutch onto his shirt, an agonized sob bursting from me.
“Oh fuck,” I cry as he holds me against him, his hand in my hair, the other rubbing up and down my back.
“She’s gone, baby. She’s gone. You’re safe.”