Page 37 of Brat Baby
The others have been watching the live feed as well. I’ve seen their logins appearing at the top right corner of the screen. Xavier’s has been the most consistent, except for my own.
The only time I left my leather computer chair was when she entered the bedroom and was out of view from the camera for the night. Then I was tortured by the mental imagery of her in the shower and sleeping in our massive bed. Alone.
I’ve watched as she’s eaten the food I had delivered. As she studied at various locations around the apartment—counter, dining table, couch. She even found that fucking red pillow of Hudson’s from his doll scene.
She’s watched a lot of TV and drawn in her sketchbooks. Taken naps on the couch. Been on her phone. I watched, unable to hear, as she laughed hysterically at something on her phone, her momentary happiness flowing through the screen into me.
She’s been completely and utterly alone all weekend. At first, she was glancing toward the door every few minutes. Those glances slowly grew farther and farther apart, until she simply stopped looking for us. My last view of her was as she left the apartment, tears on her cheeks.
When this is all over, I’m going to make her a promise that she’ll never cry sad tears because of us ever again. The only tears I want to see on those pretty cheeks are because I’ve demanded them from her.
The live feed for the past five minutes has been of a dark, empty apartment, night mode having activated when she turned off the last light. I lack the energy required to get up and attend to my personal needs right now. And the pain caused by watching the now-empty apartment is my deserved punishment.
I rub my palms over my face, the stubble scratching annoyingly. My last shave was Friday morning, something I do every weekday morning and at least once on a weekend. But not this weekend. I have more than the beginning of a beard right now.
A piece of me thinks I should keep it as penance for all the pain I have caused Emery and will continue to cause her overthe coming weeks. There is nothing I can do about this situation until I have a solution. I absolutely will not jeopardize her standing or scholarships at Newton.
She has worked way too fucking hard to pull herself out of the system, and I won’t allow four middle-aged men to ruin that for her.
Something I did this week that I am not proud of, but feel zero remorse over, was look up Emery’s student file. Xavier isn’t the only one who has a way of discovering information.
Emery’s next of kin is blank, but her emergency contact is a middle-aged woman from the south side, who appears to have been a teacher of Emery’s from high school. The letters Emery wrote as a part of her application to Newton created cracks in my soul that I don’t think will ever heal.
She spoke about being an orphan, about how she was unable to find a permanent home, due to the trauma of remembering the accident that took her parents. There were details in the letters that alluded to unsatisfactory foster care arrangements that did more harm than good. And finally, she spoke about her hopes for the future and how a full ride at Newton University would kick off the start to her new life.
And thank fuck, the scholarship administrators had agreed with her and given her everything she’d asked for.
Her address is one of the shared apartment dorms on campus and is attached to an accommodation scholarship, which is tied to her grades and attendance. The same goes for her tuition and meal scholarships. And while, yes, those types of scholarships are a part of the grant funded programs for helping children who grew up in the system break the cycle, Emery is also incredibly smart.
She ranked in the top five students in her high school class, and she scored in the top ten percent on her ACTs. She would have been a serious contender for entrance from that alone.
There wasn’t much more to glean than that. Everything else I know about her is from spending time with her last weekend. Knowing I could have also had this weekend with her, but chose to stay away, is fucking painful.
Thayne Hamilton will be back in less than two weeks. As Newton’s dean of students, one of my closest friends, and another member of Obsession, he is someone who will completely understand the situation we have gotten ourselves into. While he may have gotten lucky, with neither of his subs being current students of Newton, he’d still had a damn time getting himself out of the rent-a-dom situationship he’d started with Abigail and Wyatt.
He may also be the only person who knows a way we can continue with Emery without putting everyone’s careers, education, and reputations at risk. If there even is a way. Thayne and I have been messaging a little already, but I haven’t wanted to disturb his time with his newly collared subs.
However, he has agreed to a conversation at Obsession the day he returns. I’m thankful for the meeting taking place at Obsession and not the university; it gives me hope that his newfound relationship will soften him toward us, and he’ll help find a solution. Rather than firing all four of us on the spot.
I take another drink of my bourbon, the burn of the alcohol having disappeared at some point Friday night. All there is left to taste is the sweet hints of caramel and the spicy aftertaste. I should probably eat something soon. Besides coffee and a pastry this morning, I haven’t had anything to eat. Which I am very likely going to pay for tomorrow.
Fuck, tomorrow.
Tomorrow will bring another two hours of painful proximity with Emery. Right in the middle of the row, and so close to the front. From that spot, I can see the faint freckles over the bridge of her nose.
In fact, the spot is so close that, on that first day, I could see the redness in her eyes, every tear that fell, every slice of pain, every piece of hurt that we’d inflicted on her. It had been fucking torture, and the only way I’d made it through the class was to not look at her.
Darcy, Hudson, and I talked more about explaining the issue with the contract to her Thursday night after Xavier had abruptly left our poker game. But ultimately, we determined that there would be no point. Explaining everything to her wouldn’t change the fact that she is still a student, and it is still against the university’s code of conduct to be with her. All it would do is inflict more damage. Generate hope that could end up crushed beneath the code’s boot.
Additionally, revealing Xavier’s role in all of this could ruin his relationship with her. And as much as I want to put my fist into his face a few more times, I could never do that to him. The man may keep himself a little aloof from us, but he has never failed to be there when we have needed him. This is the one and only time he has gone against us, but with almost an entire bottle of bourbon in my system, I can admit that I don’t blame him.
I’m not sure what I would have done if the student section had been left in the contract and Emery had informed us of her enrollment status before signing the contract.
Not knowing about her future at Newton before the contract was one thing, but having her disclose that information after the weekend’s activities would have required the ending of any future contact. Continuing anything with her, even in secret, ran the risk of someone finding out. Someone would be bound to slip up and get caught. She is far too tempting for all of us, even when she isn’t trying to be.
For the sake of any chance we have of being with Emery again, I must hold the course.Wemust hold the course.
Even if it hurts right now.
