Page 61 of Bound

“Which way should we go?” I asked, glancing left and right.

“I don't know, have you ever been in these woods before?”

“Nope.” Smirking, I tightened my grip on her hand and started forward. “Let's hope my sense of direction is as good as I think it is.”

“That's comforting,” Emery said with a chuckle.

Our feet crunched over dead leaves and dry sticks, crackling and popping like fireworks. The silence was unworldly, it was a quiet I didn't think I could ever get used to.

After an entire lifetime of listening to vehicles driving at all hours of the night, the way people's voices were carried through the air like white noise, the silence was loud.

The wind was blowing, rustling the tree limbs overhead. I could hear birds chirping around us, and small critters as they scampered away when we got too close.

“So, tell me something about yourself, Emery Flores.” Stopping at a huge fallen down tree, I wrapped my arms around her stomach, and lifted her up. “Where did you grow up?”

Grunting lightly, she pulled her legs over the top, and dropped down onto the other side. “I actually spent a large part of my childhood in Maryland. But I had to move here when I turned fifteen to live with my grandma.”

“Was that because—”

“Yeah,” she said quickly, cutting me off. “It was fine though, my grandma was really nice.”

Hopping over the log, I let out a tender huff of air as I hit the soft the ground on the other side. “Is she. . .” My words trickled off, and I tried to stop myself before I sounded inconsiderate of her past.

Death was a normal thing for me in my life, and because of that, I often forgot that most people hated even talking about it.

“No, she's not, she's just. . . old.” Her lips folded in the prettiest smile as she dipped her head into her chest. Bending down, Emery picked up a leaf that looked charred. Twisting the tiny stem between her fingers, she peered at the leaf as she spoke. “She lives in a nursing home now, I couldn't keep taking care of her anymore.”

“Oh, wow, that must have been hard.”

“Hard—no, draining—yes. She has dementia, and it got to the point I couldn't leave her alone without worrying that she might hurt herself.” Dropping the leaf, she watched it float back to the ground. “What's hard about it is that she doesn't recognize me anymore.”

I watched her body as she wilted. Her shoulders rolled forward, eyes dulling and hurting at the loss of someone who was still here. Her grandmother was still alive, but in a way, she was already gone.

There were no words for me to say to her that would comfort whatever sadness she was feeling. Her parents were gone, and the woman who had cared for her was mentally unaware of the one person who loved her more than anything.

“Emery, what do you want?”

“What?” she asked, her eyes popping wide, the green shading over like a lake at night.

“From me, what do you want?”

“I. . . I don't know, Porter.” Stepping backwards, she leaned against the tree stump. “I don't know what you want me to say.”

Lumbering forward, I hoovered over her, allowing my presence to rock her nerves. “I want you to tell me the truth, to say the first thing that comes in your head when I ask.” Swooping my hand in, I rested my palm against her cheek, and dug my fingers into her hair. “I'm going to ask you again.” I paused, giving her time to truly hear my words. “What do you want from me, from this, what do you want?”

My eyes were locked on hers, refusing to let her look away. Her lips opened slightly as if she was ready to speak, but she didn't say a word.

I could see it in her eyes that she had an answer, but I didn't understand why she just wouldn't spit it out.

“Don't be afraid to be honest, just tell me.”

“That's the problem, I really don't know. It's all so confusing, and I don't know how to make sense of it.”

Smiling, my lids hooded, and I held her face so she couldn't do anything but look up. “Let me tell you what I want then.” Licking my lips, I inched closer, bringing my chest to hers. A shiver scaled her body, the tremor running through my palm and shaking my muscles. “I want you, that's it. I want us, I want to feel this fire in my gut every damn day, and I don't want to ever let it go.”

Emery's eyes glazed over as her stare deepened. She was looking at me, but not just looking at me, she was seeing into me. Her thick, long lashes fanned her lids as she blinked, and her lips sat partially open.

I wanted to kiss her, but I wanted to hear her answer first. I had to know what she was thinking, what was running through that pretty little head of hers.

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