[ON HOLD]
Some people need to be saved.
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Emery Clarke has a very complicated past and present. She has an abusive drunk for a mother, scars marking her body, and a mind devoid of hope. That is, until she meets him.
Seth Finley is about as eas...
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Why can't you just let me help you, Emery?" I ask, exasperated.
Emery looks down at her lap, letting her hair fall in front of her face. "It's complicated," she mutters, toying with a loose string on her jeans.
"Did I do some-"
"No, Seth. God, no. But can you please just drop it?" Emery asks desperately.
"Yeah. Sorry," I say. "Come on."
I slide an arm under her knees and around her back, as I had done a few times before. I can't deny the fact that I like holding her close to me. There's just something about her that makes me want to hold her tightly and never let anyone hurt her.
I know I'm being stupid, but I walk slightly slower to savor the feeling of Emery in my arms.
"Mom, I need help!" I holler, kicking the door closed with my foot.
"Yes, honey-Oh Lord, what happened?" Mom asks, rushing over and looking at Emery's blood-soaked jeans.
"She fell into some rocks. Tore her stitches," I say, going with Emery's lie. Emery stays silent, and I notice her biting that damn lip of hers. It drives me crazy when she does that.
"Why didn't you take her to the hos-"
"She doesn't have insurance," I say smoothly. "Now, please, will you fix her up?"
Mom gives me a dry look, but smiles at Emery. "Come on sweetheart. Everything's in the bathroom."
I sigh in relief and follow Mom into the bathroom. I set Emery on the closed toilet seat, and turn to Mom. "What can I help with?" I ask.
"A towel, the first aid kit, and some Advil," Mom rattles off, washing her hands and tying her hair back.
As I grab the materials, I start talking. "Oh, um, Mom, this is Emery, Emery, this is Mom," I say, setting everything on the counter.
"Son, I have a name," Mom reminds me, pulling on a pair of rubber gloves. "I'm Sarah Finley."
"Oh, please, call me Sarah," Mom tells her, waving it off. She turns and shoots me a sly wink.
"So Seth has told me a lot about you-"
"Mom!" I hiss, feeling the back of my neck and my ears heat up, most likely bright red.
"-he thinks you're pretty."
I groan, resting my face in my hands. "Mom, that's not cool! And I'd didn't say that, Emery."
She raises a delicate eyebrow, seeming not to notice any pain that her leg must be causing her. "Thanks, Seth. Feeling the love," she says sarcastically.
My eyes widen. "Shit-that's not what I meant! I mean, I do think your pretty-Oh fuck, this isn't coming out right!" I let out an exasperated sigh.
Mom and Emery laugh. "Seth, honey, she's got you eating right out of her hand."
Emery gives me a small smile. "I know what you meant," she says, her voice like silk. And truth be told, what Mom said is true. I am wrapped around her finger. And I've only known her for a little less than a month.
My phone buzzes with a message, so I pull it out. I roll my eyes. Stephanie.
"I should go deal with this," I mutter.
"The she-devil?" Mom asks sympathetically.
"Who's the she-devil?" Emery asks, frowning.
"Stephanie," I say. Her lips form an 'o' shape in realization, and she nods her head. "I'll be back."
I leave the bathroom and sit against the wall a couple feet down from the door. I unlock my phone and open my messages.
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I finish typing angrily, then turn off my phone.
Emery isn't a bitch.
I take a deep breath, then walk back into the bathroom. I immediately freeze, staring at the sight in front of me.
Emery's jeans were folded on the counter, leaving her in her t-shirt and underwear. Her legs are so long and tan, I can't keep my eyes off of them.
"Seth Matthew!" Mom screeches. "Would you stop acting like a sex-crazed pig and be a gentleman?"
My mom, ladies and gentlemen.
I shake my head, looking at Emery's face. She's blushing like crazy, trying to cover her face with her hair. "Sorry," I murmur.
Mom huffs, then looked back at Emery's hurt leg. The stitches that were originally there are slightly crooked, and now are partially ripped. I notice the scars all along both of her legs, white marks varying in size and shape. It shocks me, to be honest. What is she going through?
"Oh honey, what's been happening?" Mom asks, frowning at Emery's legs.
"I'm just clumsy," she mutters, not looking at either of us. Lie.
I just wish she wouldn't lie about all of this. I know I've only known her for a little while, but I already can't stand the thought of her hurting. Emery Clarke just has that effect on me.
