Pieces of Him (26 page)

“Consider yourself disowned then, Emelia.”

Mr. Masters grabs hold of his wife’s arm and gives her a shake. “Corrine, you can’t disown your own children. I’m through indulging you.”

“Phillip, let me go.”

“Dad,” Hannah interjects. “Let it be. She’ll never change, and you’ll always have Em and me. Fighting with that woman is just not worth it.”

“She’s right, Dad,” Emelia pipes in. “I’m sorry that your birthday was ruined, but I can’t stay here. I can’t be around her, and I absolutely do not need another run-in with Garrett.” She breaks free of my hold and gives her father a hug before coming back to me. Hannah does the same and then together the four of us walk out of that fucked-up house.

We have brief introductions and good-byes by our parked cars. Brief because Emelia really doesn’t want to see Garrett. Hannah decides that she and Colin will be checking out of their hotel in Connecticut tomorrow and coming to stay near us instead. We make plans to meet up tomorrow night for dinner before we part ways.

As I drive, I take the time to calm down. I’m frustrated, but I really don’t want to take anything out on her. I keep reminding myself that, besides that asshole, she hasn’t had any real relationship experience. Neither have I and I know there needs to be a learning curve for both of us.

“I’m so sorry that you had to deal with that. I know it doesn’t make it any better, but that is why I didn’t tell you about them sooner.”

“You’re mom’s a piece of work.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s over.”

She’s quiet after that, looking out the window. Pensive. Probably thinking about what happened with her family and what that means. I should let it alone, leave it be, but I can’t fucking help it. I need to know the missing piece of the puzzle that is Emelia.

“You mentioned something about an inheritance to your mom.”

“Yeah.”

“What did you mean by that?”

“My grandfather, my mom’s father, left my sister and me money in his will. The money’s held in trust until each of us turns twenty-five. Hannah’s got hers already and I get mine in a few months.”

“How much money is it?”

“I don’t know the exact number, but it’s probably around five million dollars.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” I accuse through gritted teeth.

“Max. No, it’s not something I was trying to keep from you. I honestly never even think about that money. It’s been something that I’ve known about for years, but it’s always been something that’s coming in the distant future.”

“Right,” I reply semi-sarcastically. Who in the hell forgets about the fact that they’re about to inherit millions of dollars? Oh yeah, someone who’s always had millions of dollars. That kind of money is probably chump change to her.

“Baby, I swear. I swear to you, it wasn’t an intentional lie.”

“I’m tired, Em, can we talk about this later.”

She hesitantly agrees, but I know it costs her. She hates the idea of me being mad at her, of us having something between us that could potentially tear us apart. Part of me wants to alleviate her concerns, but I don’t. I let it hang over us like a threatening storm cloud even though I know it hurts her. I say nothing because at the root of everything, I’m an asshole, and I’d rather wallow in my own frustration than ease her mind.

When we get home, I walk Emelia to her door; she looks up at me with confusion on her face.

“Is Mrs. Park staying with Xander overnight?” she asks.

“No. I’m just tired. The drive back and forth really wore me out, so I’m going straight to bed.”

“So you don’t want me to spend the night?”

“I just need time to think.”

“About what?” She’s starting to get agitated now. She’s visibly upset, and I hate myself for putting her through this, but I just need to clear my head right now.

“A lot of shit went down tonight, Em, and it’s a lot to take in. I just need a night to wrap my head around all this shit.”

“What is there to wrap your head around?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about the fact that my girlfriend is a fucking millionaire?”

“Are you serious right now? Who cares, Max, it’s just money. I don’t give a shit about it.”

“Of course not, how could you give a shit about something that you’ve never struggled for?”

“Oh, my god.”

“No. Em, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Spoiled little rich girl, just like my mom, right? Just like I said that you would think of me.”

“I didn’t mean that. I’m just frustrated, all right.”

“So frustrated that you don’t want to spend the night with me when we haven’t spent a night apart in over six months?”

“Yes.”

“If you push me away tonight, I’m not so sure I want you to come back.”

“Fuck,” I half yell. “Do not do that. Do not do that shit to me. I don’t need a fucking ultimatum. I’m asking you for one night. It’s not the end of the world. We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” I say turning away from her and walking toward my door. I get about halfway before she stops me dead in my tracks.

“If I’m around.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, turning back around.

“I said we’ll talk tomorrow if I’m around.” She turns, putting her key in the lock and opening the front door.

“Is that a threat, Em.”

“Take it how you want,” she says, walking through her open door. “Good night,” she bites out before slamming her door shut. I can hear her locks going and I want to kick her motherfucking door down, but I tamp down my irrational urges and head to my apartment. In the back of my mind, I’m hoping that I haven’t just made the biggest mistake of my entire life.

Max~

Sprawled out on my bed, I flip through the channels on the television for maybe the tenth time since I got home. I stare at the screen but couldn’t tell you what’s on it. All of a sudden, I’m all too aware of how cold this bed is without Emelia in it. It’s been over two hours since I walked away from her in the hallway, and already, I miss the shit out of her. I miss the way she crawls into my arms at night like she can’t get close enough to me. I was pissed about the money because all of a sudden the life I was offering her didn’t seem so appealing. It didn’t feel like it compared to what she already had within reach. So instead of talking about it and telling her how I felt, telling her how it worried me, I shut her out. I walked away from her and I hurt her after she took a stand against her own mother for me. She walked out of that house, her hand in mine like she was proud to have me on her arm and she didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. How did I repay that? By being my usual asshole self.
This is stupid.

Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I call her. I need to tell her I’m sorry, ask her to come over, to come home. She doesn’t pick up, which only confirms what I already know … She’s pissed at me.
Can’t say that I blame her
. Without a second thought, I get up, pull on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, grab my keys, and pull Xander’s video monitor from the plug so I can see him. I tread on silent feet through my apartment, out the door, and across the hall to Em’s door. I knock once, twice, three times with no response.

“Em, open up,” I call giving the door another knock. I should just go home, give her the night to calm down, and come back in the morning, but I can’t fucking leave things like this. I can’t get through the night knowing she thinks I’m angry with her. I have to fix this. Using the key that she gave me, I go to unlock the door, but when I grab the doorknob, I give it a twist and it opens up. I’ve warned her about keeping her door locked, and clearly, she didn’t listen.

As I walk into her apartment, something hits me as being off—something’s wrong. I heard the sound of her locks closing earlier. Immediately, I know she’s not here; she’s gone and my skin prickles and my heart starts to beat double time. Nothing seems like it’s out of order, nothing looks wrong, but I feel it. I head to the bedroom, just in case I’m wrong and she’s here, but when I get there, the room is empty.

Where would she be all alone in the middle of the night? My brain keeps telling me this is wrong, something is wrong, and I can feel the fear set in. That sense of panic starts to take hold, and I have to fight it because panicking is not going to help right now. Taking a deep breath, I look around the room looking for clues. Her bed is made, which means it hasn’t been slept in. On her dresser sits her purse, as if she had thrown it there when she walked in the bedroom. She wouldn’t have gone far without her purse.

“Shit.” I check the monitor to make sure Xander’s still asleep then walk to Em’s purse. When I open it, I find her cell phone and her keys in there along with her wallet, money, license, and credit cards. He has her. In my bones, I know that somehow that son-of-a-bitch ex of hers got to her.

“Fuck,” I yell. Terror takes hold of me as I grab my phone and dial Mrs. Park first. I give her a brief rundown and ask her to come down to my apartment to keep an eye on Xander. There’s no telling where he has Em, and I need to know that Xander’s okay so I can focus on this. I call Hannah next, just in case she and Colin decided to drive down tonight and picked Em up.

“I haven’t spoken to her since we said our good-byes, Max. What’s going on?”

That sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach comes back again as the little bit of hope that I was holding onto slips away. I feel like a caged animal needing to get out and search for her, but I’m stuck. I have nothing to go on. “I think Garrett’s got her.”

“How is that possible?” she cries, and I can hear the fear in her voice. The sound is too much to take; it grips at me because I feel it too.

“Because I fucking left her alone.”

“What do we do?”

I scramble for rational thought, to put together some kind of plan that makes sense. This isn’t about me—it’s about Em, and the calmer I remain, the better chance I have of getting her back.

“You call your father and find out if he’s heard from her. See if Garrett showed up tonight like your mom said he was going to, and if not, see if you can find out his address. I’m going to call the cops.”

“Okay. I’ll call Dad and then we’re coming down there. Keep your phone on you,” she says with determination in her voice. I couldn’t talk her out of it if I tried, and right now, I’ll take all the help I can get.

“I will,” I tell her before disconnecting. I call the cops, who I probably should have fucking called first, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t overreacting. They try to tell me that I need to wait twenty-four hours before I can file a missing person report, but when I tell them I believe she’s been kidnapped, they tell me they’ll send someone out to me.

I’m climbing the walls as I wait for them to get here thinking of all the things that could be happening to her right now. In a moment of clarity, I go back into the bedroom, sift through Emelia’s bag, and look through her phone, thinking that maybe when she transferred her contacts into the new phone I bought her, Garrett’s information got saved in there too.

“Please God,” I pray as I scroll through the numbers. When I come across his name, the sense of relief I feel is tremendous. I hit the call button and it rings several times. I’m about to give up hope, but he finally picks up.

“I was waiting for you to call. Tell me how does it feel when the shoe’s on the other foot? How do you like not being able to get to her, asshole?”

“Where the fuck is she?”

“She’s where she belongs. With me.”

“I’ll fucking kill you if you hurt her. Do you understand me? I’ll fucking kill you.”

“You’d have to find me first.” He laughs then disconnects the phone and I hit the contact number again. This time it goes straight to voicemail. If he were in front of my face right now, I’d make good on my threat. I would kill him and make it painful. I think of Em, probably scared out of her mind, and the thought enrages me. This useless feeling I have only makes it worse.

I’d throw the phone against the wall, but there’s a knock on the door just as I’m contemplating it. Two uniformed officers are there when I open the door and once I’ve explained to them what happened and they ask me a slew of stupid fucking questions, I give them access to the apartment.

My cell phone rings, and the minute it does, I’m praying it’s some kind of news. Any news right now would be better than nothing.