Farm Girl Loves Bad Boy (#2)

Chapter Ten

“Where the hell are you going?” Vince jerks me back onto the bed by my arm. “You aren’t seriously going to chase after him, are you?”

I’m speechless, as the picture of Emery standing in the doorway places again and again in my mind. His hair looked a bit longer, and stuck out more than the normal perfectly straight black hair I was used to. His choice in clothes looked exactly the same, but there was something in his eyes that I just couldn’t place.

“Vince,” I mumble, finally able to spit out his name. I try to climb off the bed again but he pulls me back down. “I need to go see him.”

After the words leave my mouth, Vince spins me around with painful force. He looks down into my eyes, glaring.

“After all he’s done to you, after he’s hurt you so much, you still want to go see him?” I know that it’s more of a choice rather than a question. If I leave Vince, we probably won’t have what just happened again. But if I stay, what if Emery leaves again?

“Yes,” I tell him, wiggling out of his grasp. I don’t give him a second glance as I run towards the door and speed down the stairs. I look around the aisle, seeing no sign of Emery anywhere. On my way out, I look in the stalls to make sure he’s not hiding as I avoid the memories of the barn.

Outside, I see my dad’s truck parked beside the house. My face scrunches as my eyes find the motorcycle in the trunk. I want to go for a closer look, but I know I have to find Emery as soon as possible.

I sprint towards the house, and throw open the front door. Emery’s old shoes are lying on the mat and I rush into the kitchen. My parents are sitting across from each other, sipping from coffee mugs. They were having a serious conversation for sure, and I know exactly what it’s about.

Seeing no sign of Emery, I walk to my parents. “Emery’s here?”I say between breaths from running. “When were you going to tell me he was coming back?”

My mother smiles sadly at me before taking a sip of her coffee, signalling that my dad answers this question. I look to him, and he scratches his head nervously.

“I had no idea, River,” he says sternly, answering my second question before I can get mad at him. “He phoned from a pay phone and I had to go pick him up.” None of this is making sense. Wasn’t Emery halfway across the country, or at least a plane’s ride away at his aunts?

“Why did he come back?” I ask in a rushed voice, wanting to ask more questions so I don’t have to keep wondering.

My dad sighs, and stares down at his murky coffee. “Some old friends of his dad’s found him.” That explains everything. I suck in a quick breath, suddenly worried. They must have known to check Emery’s mother’s relatives to find him if they found out he isn’t living here.

“What’s with the motorcycle?”

Before my dad can respond, the sound of footsteps approaching us sounds from the basement stairs. Moments later, the door swings open and Emery is walking backwards into the kitchen, dragging his mattress.

“Emery,” I whisper, and his head snaps towards me instantly, eyes wide. Then I gasp. His left eye is bruised, like someone had hit him, and his right arm is in a cast. Open wounds and scars cover his arms where his t-shirt doesn’t cover. “Oh my god!” I rush over to him quickly but I stop myself as my hands reach for him. He takes a step back, not saying anything.

Things become extremely awkward; however my worry quickly overpowers it. I grab the mattress that Emery had dropped and look to my parents. “Where’s the mattress going?” I expect them to say to the loft. After all, Emery already showed up there, probably avoiding me and waiting to move in.