Page 18 of Hurt Me Not
It breathed life into me. It had heat expanding from my belly to everywhere else in my body.
And even though we were in a crowded coffee shop, I kissed her back. I kissed her back with everything I had just in case this would be my last time kissing Emerson Blackwell.
I was breathing heavily. Her eyes were hooded, and there was a heat in them I didn't expect.
“Next time, ask for more.”
“Next—”
Without warning, she turned and walked off, leaving me speechless. It took me a few moments to realize I was still in a crowded coffee shop and I needed to pull myself together quickly.
I reached for my laptop and scanned my email for confirmation of my enrollment. And then I couldn't conceal my gasp.
I thought I would be using the money Emerson had paid for me for my classes. But as it turned out, I wouldn't need to do that because I had been offered a scholarship for the second time in my life.
Maybe the universe is telling me this is the right thing to do.
Closing my laptop, I allowed myself to soak in the moment and drink my coffee when I noticed something written on my coffee cup. I pulled it away to look at it.
When you're ready to take me up on my offer, call me. You know the number.
Emerson. Her handwriting hadn’t changed since high school.
I took a sip of my overly sweet drink with shaky hands.
So much for having the last word.
Chapter 5
Emerson
Is there something else on the table?
Didn’t she fucking realize I’d give her anything she wanted if only she picked up the phone and called me? I’d have to punish her for that too.
If she gives me the chance.
Fuck.
“An inmate from Fort Bay Regional Prison is attempting to contact you?—”
I hung up immediately, regretting not having looked at the screen before accepting the call.
I had been so anxious about Pearl calling that I didn’t even think it could behim. My shitty father only called me about one thing, and that was money. Not that he was getting any from me.
He had been arrested right before I left for college, which was a reprieve after he kept threatening to kill me if I went, even if I had a scholarship.
Officially, as far as I knew, he was charged with a DUI first. He had gotten drunk the night before and attempted to drive home in a car that wasn’t his. To top that off, when an officer tried to stop him, he started swinging and knocked the guy out before running home.
It hadn’t taken long for him to be identified and charged with assaulting a police officer too, and cops had been at our doorstep the following morning. CPS had been there too, and child abuse had been added to his charges, along with probably a few more things. Not surprising.
I might have been the school bully, but the teachers at school took the time to look at me and notice me, which meant constant calls and visits from CPS.I never knew how they kept finding out about it, especially since I tried to hide it as much as I could, but I supposed they were experienced enough to know that someone who brought violence to school was probably in a violent situation at home.
Either way, that meant him going away for a very long time.
I didn’t care. He’d always been violent, and if anything, having him behind bars made me feel better. It meant he couldn’t show up and ruin everything for me.
I had become desensitized to his abuse over the years, like his punches had become weaker. Dull. They had hurt more when I was younger because the pain mixed with betrayal and anger.
