Farm Girl Loves Bad Boy (#2)

Chapter Ten

“Your room,” my mother says, not meeting my eyes. As upset and hurt as I am with Emery, I’m happy that he’s sleeping in my room again.

“Okay,” I mumble, dragging the mattress past Emery and towards the stairs. He doesn’t say anything as he tries to grab it with his good arm, but I tug it away just in time. He shouldn’t be pushing it if it’s hurt.

He follows me the whole way to my room, and whenever he can’t see my face, I’m smiling. I drop the mattress at the same, empty place at the end of my bed. I thought that it was awkward before, but now it’s even worse. I sit on the end of my bed with my hands clasped together, staring at the floor.

Emery steps towards the mattress, and drops his black backpack beside it. He does nothing more, and it feels like hours while we hang out in my room, saying and doing exactly nothing. Before, I wanted to hug Emery, kiss him, and tell him how much he means to me. However after what Vince said in the loft, it’s changed my mind. Besides, didn’t I make a huge promise to myself that I refused to break?

Slowly, I rise to my feet, not wanting to lose myself to Emery. “I guess I’ll leave you to get settled in,” I mumble, starting to walk towards the door. As soon as I start to pass Emery, he grabs my arm and pulls me back. He doesn’t let go as I stand in front of him, closer than we should be. He stares down at me expressionless, and I take in his face.

He looks like a complete mess. Before, I could only see that he has a black eye. Now I can see the small cuts on his forehead, and one on his lip. His once gorgeous, blue eyes are now darker.

“Emery,” I whisper, not knowing what to do or say. He never once talked to me on the phone, and now he’s not talking to me in person. The grip on my arm doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable, like it did with Vince. Instead it’s comforting, as if there’s still a piece of the old Emery somewhere deep inside of him.

Tears start to leave my eyes before I can stop them. Emery looks like hell, and it kills me inside. Suddenly, the grip on my arm loosens and he’s pulling me into his chest. His good arm is around my back, holding me as tightly as Emery can. I smell the familiar smell of Emery; cigarettes and I breathe it in happily. Even though I hate them, the smell on him gives me familiarity.

For a while, I cry into his chest. He rests his chin gently on the top of my head and doesn’t let his hold on me even loosen slightly. We don’t part until we have to, when my mom calls me to come downstairs.

I pull back from Emery, blushing as I wipe the tears out of my eyes. His arm drops to his side, and he stares at me with cold eyes. As if nothing just happened, he turns to his backpack and starts digging through it, not saying a word.

With shaky legs, I walk towards my bedroom door. Before heading down the stairs, I turn back and look at Emery, who’s still looking for something. I smile sadly and head downstairs before he notices me staring.

“River,” my mother says, sitting in the living room. She gestures towards one of the chairs for me to sit in, the on that usually means that I’m getting a serious talk. Nervously, I take my seat and fidget with my hands. My dad leans against the wall, sipping his coffee and watching me carefully. “Emery has been to hell and back the past few months,” she says quietly, not wanting him to hear. “Whatever anger or hurt feelings you have towards him, you need to drop them.”

Her voice is completely serious, and I know for a fact that they’re leaving out a very crucial part of what happened while Emery was away.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I ask as I meet my mother’s eyes, then my father’s.

My dad sighs, and straightens out as he scratches his head. “Before you get angry, hear me out,” he says sternly, meeting my gaze. “I can’t tell you. That’s up to Emery when he’s ready, but I’m taking him to the police station again.” A million questions run through my mind as I process all this new information. I want to know more, however I know I’m not getting anything else out of my parents.

I say goodnight to my parents, and climb up the stairs to my room. Emery’s sitting on the edge of my bed, holding a picture frame. It’s the one I found months ago in his backpack, of his parents and him. I lean against the doorframe and admire the scene before me, when the old floor creaks.

Emery’s head is looking at me right away, and he glares before shoving the photograph in his backpack. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt and jeans, but as I flick off the light and walk into the room, I hear him take them off. I avoid looking at him as I climb into bed, trying to sort out contradicting feelings.

On one hand, I’m completely happy and want to go and cuddle Emery. I feel so sorry for him that he’s hurt, and I just want to tell him how much I love him. On the other hand, I’m so angry and upset with him for being mad at me, and the hurtful things he said. I don’t think I’ll ever forget them, and I’m still hurt that he left without saying goodbye to me.

I sink into my bed, and pull my blankets up to my chin. The thought of Vince sleeping in the loft is the farthest thing from my mind, however I still reply seeing Emery for the first time over and over again in my mind. I want to know what happened to him, and how he got here, but I know I can’t ask. Instead, I close my eyes and listen to his breathing. It’s the only thing that calmly puts me to sleep.

Four Hours Later:

I roll over and groan, unhappy that I’ve woken up. I snuggle my head into my pillow and open my eyes when I hear the breathing. The memories of Emery coming back flood through my mind as my eyes adjust.

The familiar sound of tossing and turning fills my bedroom. I sit up in bed and crawl towards the end to peer over the edge. Sure enough, Emery lies there, squirming around and whimpering in his sleep. Sighing, I gently touch his shoulder to wake him up.

His eyes fly open and he stares at me, surprised. After a few moments, he relaxes and jerks himself away from me. He leans onto his bad arm, which looks extremely painful. However it’s the only way he can look away from me. I blink back tears as I crawl back into bed. Emery may have come back, but it’s clear that nothing has changed. It’s also obvious, that he didn’t come back for me.