Wild Heart (12 page)

Walking back into the hall, I find the dance floor crowded with bodies, the music blaring. Everyone, including Emerson
,
are all dancing with the other hundred or so guests still going strong, in it for the long-haul. The grandparents, great aunts and uncles, kids, and tired attendees have all gone home. All that’s left now are the drunks, party animals, and all-night partiers.

Leaning against a back wall next to the bar, I watch the shit show play out on the dance floor, all the while smiling to myself like a fucking idiot.

Everyone is having a damn good time.

In the middle of the floor is Holly with her dress pulled up around her knees. Row, Emerson, all the bridesmaids, along with a few other friends are all dancing to
Good Time
. They’re drunk, line dancing around each other, falling and cracking up at the same time.

Emerson looks so happy.

I could tell she was struggling earlier, and part of me was happy about it. Misery loves company, right? But now she’s enjoying herself, in her element, and I’m still stewing in my misery.

I remember a time when that smile was my driving force. It was my reward and my downfall. That smile lit up my entire fucking world.

After she left, I wasn’t real damn sure what to do without her. I went through the motions of life, not really existing, only living.

I don’t want to hate her anymore. It’s killing me.

The song ends and Justin leaves the girls to their
Tootsie Roll
. Walking up to me, he grins. “Man, that girl wore me out.” When I don’t say anything, he asks, “Jealous?” He knows damn well I am. Sharing Emerson was never my thing.

“No.” I sip on my drink, ignoring his goading.

Shaking his head sadly, he motions for the bartender and says to me, “You ever gonna forgive her? She was eighteen.”

“You ever gonna mind your own goddamn business?” I don’t know why Justin cares so fucking much. He cared about Emerson, but I didn’t know he gave that big of a fuck about her and the shit we went through.

“You’re my brother. I just want to see you happy, man.”

“I am happy,” I mutter into my glass, feeling anything but happy with this conversation.

A disbelieving laugh escapes him. “Oh yeah? What the hell do you have to be
happy
about?” Taking his drink from bartender, he thanks her before leveling me with a look that says he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.

I was happy, but that was ten years ago, and I haven’t found that kind of happiness since.

“Nadia.” Nadia makes me happy. Well, I thought she did.

He laughs again. I’m fucking thrilled he’s finding me so goddamn funny tonight.

“And where is she?” he asks, looking around. “Not here makin’ you happy.”

“She’s busy.”

“Suuuure,” he taunts, walking off with his drink in one hand and a spare in the other.

~~~~~~

“Ugh, stupid cliché dance songs.” The blonde next to me moans to herself, looking directly at me from under her lashes. She’s been lingering close for the last hour, watching me, smiling. I vaguely remember her face from high school, but other than that, I’m not real clear as to who she is, why she’s here, or why she’s looking at me like she wants to devour me.

“Yeah,” I say while watching the dance floor. The girls have been at it for a while. They’re all sloppy drunk at this point, but they’re having the time of their lives.

“I’m Kayla,” she offers.

“Zac,” I say absently, not taking my eyes off Em.

I know this Kayla chick is looking for a hook up. The tight skirt and the fuck me look tells me this. I’d say if it weren’t for Nadia I’d be interested, but I’d be lying. It’s because of Emerson I’m still standing here, drinking alone.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asks as she moves in closer.

“Nah.” There is no point in bullshitting her. I don’t have a fucking clue who she is.

“We had Spanish together.” She says it like that should jog my memory. It’s been years, there is no way in hell I’d remember her. I don’t remember much of high school outside of Em, football, and my friends.

When I shrug, she proclaims, “I had the biggest crush on you.” She giggles, like it’s some great secret. “But you were always just so focused on Emerson and football to notice me.”

“Yeah.” Sounds like me. Not a whole fuck of a lot has changed since then either, because here I am,
still
focused on Emerson.

“You still look the same,” I hear her say, but I’m mesmerized by the beautiful blonde in the black dress. She snags the drink from my brother’s outstretched hand before disappearing through a door.

I can’t do this anymore
.

Something snaps inside of me.

I have to go after her
.

I’ve drunk the well damn near dry. I know better. There is no excuse for what I’m about to do.

Walking through the double glass doors, out onto the large deck that circles the entire building, I find Emerson, sitting on the deck railing.

I walk over and touch her. Nothing about it feels wrong. Everything about it feels right. That’s all I need to know.

Zac’s large hand lingers on the small of my back as he leans in behind me, his forearm resting on the railing next to my leg.

“You look gorgeous tonight.” His words are rough against my skin as he speaks close to my shoulder.

Inhaling sharply, I smell spicy cologne and fresh cut cedar.

“Thank you,” I whisper, barely able to get the words past my lips.

“Mmhmm,” he hums, distracted.

“You didn’t save me a dance. Next time?”

“Next time, Emerson. Now turn around,” he demands.

I don’t hesitate. I turn around on the railing, bringing us eye to eye with each other. Zac’s gaze roams down my body. Touching my dress, he rubs the material between his thumb and finger, smiling sadly.

“You wore a dress just like this the night you let me fuck you for the first time.” His voice is distant, lost in the memory.

I shiver, lost in the same memory. I was sixteen, and it was in the back of his truck. My black lace prom dress hiked up around my hips. His hands all over my unexplored body. It’s all so vivid.

“That was a good night,” I say quietly.

“Yeah. It was,” he agrees. 

“How drunk are you?” I ask, laughing quietly to myself as he pushes his way between my thighs.

His eyes lock onto mine and there’s nothing funny reflected back in them. “Not drunk enough to be out here with you while havin’ thoughts of this dress on the floor.”

“Zac.” I sigh, knowing I shouldn’t let this happen, but I can’t stop it. I want it.

He groans, his hands pushing the material of my dress up. “Don’t. Don’t say my name like that,” he pleads. The soft chiffon trails up my legs as he leans in closer, bringing us chest to chest.

My dress is dangerously high, the skin of my thigh exposed to the cool air. Zac doesn’t leave them bare for long. His large, rough hands rest indecently high on my thighs.

Pulling him in closer, I smile when he reaches up to push a curl off my forehead. “I shouldn’t be touchin’ you.” His hand instantly reclaims its spot on my thigh.

“Yes, you should.”

“No, I shouldn’t. We both know this is wrong.”

Whore
.

Cheater
.

I couldn’t care less what people call me. Zac was mine, and in my mind, he always will be.

When I don’t say anything, he closes his eyes and swallows hard. “Don’t do this to me, Emerson.”

Do this to him? What about me?

“You came out here after me,” I point out. “You’re the one touching me.” I nod down out his hardness pressed into my belly.

“I can’t fuckin’ function when you’re around. I don’t know what I’m doin’.”

One hand leaves my thigh and wraps around the back of my neck, pulling me in.

“The feeling is mutual,” I murmur, my lips so close to his I can practically taste him. “Zac,” I whisper when I’m inches from his lips.

“Say the word.” he growls. Heat rolls off him in waves, his gaze focused and intense. The air between us is thick. My heart’s hammering in my chest. Suddenly, everything is too much. I want him so much I feel drunk with it. “Just say yes, Emerson.”

I want to tell him no, but I don’t. I can’t. I won’t.

“Emerson.”

“Jesus.” Justin’s voice floats through the back door. Zac’s head drops to my chest in defeat. He pulls me in, holding me like it’s the last time and suddenly, I feel really fucking sick at the idea.

“The fuck you doin’?” Justin asks in an accusing tone.

“Go back inside,” Zac growls against my chest.

“Don’t do somethin’ you’re gonna regret in the morning, Zac.” My heart seizes. That stings. “Come on, man. Let’s get another drink and head home. You need to leave Em alone tonight,” he says, his voice sad. I want to beg Zac to stay with me, plead with him not to leave me alone, but the words are dead in my mouth.

Justin walks all the way out onto the deck when Zac doesn’t move away from me.

“Don’t
,
” Zac growls

“I’ll drive you home.” Justin grabs Zac’s shoulder when he doesn’t move. Pulling him away, Justin frowns towards the ground. “Don’t go making this kinda decision when you’re both drunk off your asses. Neither one of you deserve that. Figure out what you want when you’re ready, and do it with clear heads. I don’t wanna see either of you regret it in the morning.”

Zac steps back from me, his head down. Shoving his hands into his pockets he turns away, his back to me.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

Walking away, he stops in the doorway and finally looks back at me. Dress a mess and tears in my eyes, I look exactly like I feel—shit. Regret shines brightly in his eyes. Regret for what happened or for leaving, I’m not sure.

He turns away and walks through the door. All I can do is I watch him go.

Blinking, I let a single tear fall, promising myself it’s the last one I’ll ever cry over Zac Moore.

~~~~~~

Leaving my dress in a pile on the bedroom floor, I walk out the door, heading for the bathroom.

Going through the motions, I throw my hair into a messy bun and wash my face, all while avoiding the mirror. I’m not ready to face the look in my eyes. It’s the look of a sad, sad woman, I’m sure.

I’m not sure if I’m stupid or just hopeless. Probably both.

Scrubbing at my eyes, I change my mind and take a look at myself in the mirror and grimace at what’s reflected. Mascara runs down my cheeks and puffy red eyes stare back.

Cute.

My phone rings from the futon. I debate on letting it ring, but don’t, hope propelling my feet towards it.

I head for the small living room. Grabbing my phone, I see an unknown number scrawled across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Emerson?” Justin sounds out of breath. 

“Justin?”

“Zac’s on his way there. He came home to…”

“EMERSON!” Zac’s voice booms through the door at the same moment the words leave Justin’s mouth.

I jump.

Spinning around, I stare at the door as the wood cracks from what I can only assume is the weight of his body hitting it.

“Open the motherfucking door!”

“Shit,” Justin swears into the phone. “I’ll be there to get him as soon as I can.” He hangs up and for a moment, everything is silent until the small front door smashes into the wall behind it.

I flinch at the sound, immediately backing away from the door.

Zac’s face is tormented and furious as he stares at me from the doorway, which hangs limply from the hinges.

“I fucking hate you!” he yells, slurring, pointing an angry finger at me.

I feel like I’ve been slapped. I knew, deep down, that he felt this way about me. I’ve been throwing it in his face, about hating me, but actually hearing it from his mouth, his heart, tears me to pieces.

“Zac,” I say, holding my hands up in front of me.

“Don’t!” he rages. “Don’t say my fucking name like that.”

My heart finally hits bottom and implodes on impact.

Stalking into the room, he comes for me. I step back again, away from him. Planting myself on a small kitchen chair I watch him pace.

“It’s your fault I’m this way. You fucked with my head. You broke my fucking heart and then left me here, alone, to try to put the goddamn thing back together. I’ve never been the same since.” 

“Don’t look at me like that,” I whisper, looking away from the raw emotion on his face.

“Like what?” he laughs, finding my discomfort funny.

“Like you wished you never met me.” Zac doesn’t correct me and my heart dies a thousand painful deaths.

I’ve seen Zac drunk. I’ve seen him angry. I’ve seen him hurt. But I’ve never seen all three combined in this man before me.

Zac continues to rant, spewing hateful words at me. I let him go until I’ve had enough.

“You’re not the only one who’s hurt,” I shout out bravely. I’m tired of always being blamed for everything that’s ever happened between us. “Not everything is about you.” Things are about to get ugly. I won’t be his punching bag forever. The shit stops tonight.

“No. You’re right, Emerson, it’s not,” he says in a mocking tone. “Everything is always about
you
!” He’s still slurring, pointing his finger at me.

“Jesus, Zac. What’d you expect me to do?” I shout, throwing my hands in the air, tired of it all. We had this fight ten years ago, but apparently, we’re gonna have it again. “Get married right out of high school, pop out baby after baby, work at the Seven-Eleven while
you
lived out your dreams. Isn’t that what you wanted from me?”

He doesn’t answer me right away, because that’s exactly what he wanted. And it’s not that I didn’t want to marry him and have kids. I just wasn’t ready then. I needed to explore. I
needed
to live the life I had always dreamed of.

“You could have stayed, went to college,” he reasons, “with
me.
”

“That was
your
goddamn dream Zac, not mine,” I yell, anger bubbling up and spilling over. “It’s not like I woke up one morning with a plan to ruin your life,
our
life,” I amend, because it wasn’t just his life I changed forever that day I drove away. Leaving rocked my world as much as it did his, but I had to go. “We were young. We wanted different things, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t love you for fuck’s sake. It didn’t mean I didn’t care about you. I didn’t stay and I didn’t ask you to come, and that was all for you.”

“You left me.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I could never move on, okay?” he roars, tearing at his hair. “I still can’t. Fuck, I never could let you go. And here I am, still fucked in the head over you. I can’t move on. It’s ruined my damn life. I think about you every damn second of every fucking day and it fucking kills me that I don’t have you.”

My heart breaks for breaking his. I know it hurt, but I never thought he’d hang onto the hurt. He was heartbroken, but I would have thought he’d move on from me after a time.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, feeling utterly defeated. “You love me.” There is no other explanation for it.

“And what about you? Did you ever love me?”

I would have rather had him hit me than ask me that question. How could he even think that? “I’ll always love you.”

“But…”

“There is no but. I have loved you from the moment I met you, and I will love you until the day I die.”

“You have no idea what you did to me,” he says quietly. Gone is the anger, and in its place is frustration.

“Do you think I spent the last ten years living the dream I went looking for? It took me leaving to find out I was considered more mediocre than star quality. Nothing worked out the way I thought it would. My dream wasn’t everything I thought it would be, and I lost you too. I didn’t know how to hold onto you, but I missed you every second of every fucking day. I never moved on. I was always so in love with you. Nothing, and no one, would ever be you, or give me what I had with you. You’re it for me, Zac. You always have been. No one will ever love you like I love you.”

Nothing I have ever said has been truer than those words.