The Righteous and The Wicked (19 page)

“Oh! Eric! Oh, yes! Oh, God!” Her body writhes in the cramped backseat. She screams and moans and shrieks and comes, and Eric’s release is unfathomable. It feels like a revelation, a rapture. He’s dizzy from the pleasure, and she’s screaming his name, and it is so fucking unbelievable. His cock thunders inside her, and he watches her lovely face in the tumultuous throes of the devilish ecstasy he has made her feel. His satisfaction is unspeakable. It has never been this good . . . and he has never felt so evil.

Chapter Eighteen

The agreement Eric and Emma made should have been simple: when Eric felt he needed to feed his addiction, it would be Emma who gave herself to him. What neither of them accounted for was the way this arrangement would affect them, the way it would change them, the way it would make them feel.

They couldn’t have known that being together that way would awaken Eric’s long dormant heart and Emma’s untapped lust. The arrangement should have been simple, but nothing ever is.

The morning after Eric was with Emma in the Jeep, he climbs a ladder with his tool belt heavy at his waist, but it’s not as heavy as the sinister burden he carries in his soul. Everything that felt good in the night is repulsive in the harsh light of day. He feels the familiar pang of shame and regret that floods through him after every seedy tryst he engages in, but this time it is unbearable. The haunting truth that he used a beautiful, innocent woman to satisfy his loathsome sickness is crushing him.

He will not allow himself to see her. He cares for her, and because of that, he must leave this place before he damages her further. He rolls up the sleeves of his flannel shirt and begins work on the roof of the house. He’s glued to his task. Creating, not destroying. The sooner he gets this house completed and sold, the sooner he can move on. This house is not his home, it will never be his home, and he was a fool to think it could be. He punishes his body as he toils beneath the hot sun, imprisoning himself in his work. This is not what he wanted to do. He took advantage of a lonely girl and made her an accessory to his crime. He’s beyond reproach and beyond forgiveness. He wipes the sweat from his brow and makes a weak vow to never, ever do it again.

Days pass, filled with silence. Her car rumbles by and he looks up from his book for just a moment. Trying to ignore her has been challenging, and forcing his obscene fantasies from his mind is next to impossible. He has labored to forget the things they did that night in the rain, but the memories are stubborn and refuse to budge. To sleep with a woman and have her not be just a victim has made him question everything he thought he knew about himself, but his inevitable inability to treat her well has shown him he can’t be better than what he is.

Emma deserves more. He has tried so hard to survive his nights without her, resisting the temptation to call or go to her has been a daunting feat. An itch that he can’t scratch. Just as much as he craves her body and what he can take from her, he also feels a pull to her in a way that is more than just physical . . . and it’s terrifying. He would love to kiss her and hold her, to pick up the phone and call her, to hear her voice. He would love to be healthy enough to share what he’s feeling with her. Paralyzed by his shame, he knows every second that passes takes her further away from him. He hates this truth, but this is how it has to be.

Emma comes home from a brutal, long, and exhausting day of work. Eric’s trailer beckons to her as she drives past and she suppresses the impulse to knock on his door. She opens her mailbox. A delicate envelope is addressed to her.

You are cordially invited to the engagement celebration of

Danielle and Sean, to be held at La Luna Restaurant

Saturday, May 24th at seven o’clock in the evening.

Formal attire.

It’s been almost a week since she’s seen Eric. She’s afraid to call him, and he has not contacted her. After the night they were together, she assumed he would come to her again, but he hasn’t. His absence in her life is profound. She’s not what he wanted—she wasn’t able to give him what he needs. That night was amazing for her, but it’s obvious that Eric doesn’t feel the same. Too nervous to walk down that path, she’s frightened of what will happen if she crosses the invisible boundary he has drawn.

Emma has become almost obsessed with thoughts of Eric’s naked body. She once pushed those thoughts away, but not anymore. She remembers the beauty of that night, lying together in the backseat of his Jeep, silent except for the sound of the falling rain . . . the things he did to her, and she to him. The pleasure he made her feel, the way he pushed her to the edge of everything she has ever held to be true. She let herself go, and for a few precious moments, she was set free from the bondage of her faith and her past. She remembers the tenderness he showed her after the deed was done—zipping up her dress and slipping her shoes back onto her feet. She thinks of him walking the short distance to her car with his coat held over her head to shield her from the rain. She remembers the lost and distant look in his eyes when he leaned in to plant a restrained kiss her on forehead . . . and then he said goodbye.

Since then, there has been empty silence. She has heard him hammering every day; the banging almost speaks to her, forbidding her from coming near.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Stay. A. Way.

Every night, Emma makes more food than the she needs to and plays records louder than she should, in the hope that he will come. She lies awake listening for the sound of her phone vibrating or his Jeep leaving. She’s waiting for him to break down again and hunt, but he has not yet done so, and she hasn’t slept. She fantasizes about him, his eyes, his voice, his body. His face has taken up sole residence in her mind’s eye. Heavy breaths, naked flesh and the taste of his mouth. She wants him so much.

She’s sure that he’s struggling, and she’s selfish in her lust for him. She feared that after she enabled his sickness he would reject her out of shame, and her fear has come true. She’s sullen and bitter, but giving him space is something she will do with reluctance. Once again, Emma is doing what she does best—putting someone else’s needs before her own.

Sean and Eric walk out of the bar into the night. “I know you don’t have a mailbox or anything, so I’m just gonna hand this to you.” Sean lights a cigarette and digs in his backpack, then hands Eric an envelope.

“It’s an invite to our engagement party. Danni wants everyone to meet each other before the wedding, you know, the bridal party and the family. It would mean a lot to me if you were there. You can even bring a date, if you want.” Sean pats his best man on the shoulder.

Eric thinks of how much he would like to ask Emma to accompany him. He wishes he were normal; that he could have a girlfriend. He imagines an alternate universe where he would be satisfied with just one woman, and could treat her the way she deserves to be treated. But that will never be.

He puts the envelope in his back pocket. “I’ll be there.”

Weeks pass and Emma still hasn’t seen Eric. She distracts herself by spending time with her friends. Today she walks beside Abby, whose mouth gapes open like a goldfish.

“I think I need to sit down. Yep. Yes, I definitely need to sit down. How can you drop a bomb like this at the damn mall, Emma? Let’s go to the food court before I pass out.” Abby jerks Emma’s elbow, dragging her past the busy shops.

Emma has finally confessed her sins to Abby, but she doesn’t feel absolved. More than guilt, Emma feels fear. Fear of never touching him again. Fear of not having the chance to sin again. She parts from her friend and gets two coffees. When she returns, she finds Abby with her head down, resting on her folded arms. She looks back up as Emma approaches.

“Sex. You’re serious? You had
sex
with this guy? In the backseat of a
car
? Wait till Danni hears this shit. She’s gonna die.”

“I’m not telling you this so you can tell Danni and Jeff and Sean and everyone else we know. I’m telling you this because I need some discreet advice. I’m not, like, an expert on seducing guys.”

“It doesn’t sound like you had to work too hard.” Abby sips her latte.

“I know, but I haven’t seen him or heard from him since. It’s been
weeks
. He came over almost every day before we . . .
you know
. It just seems like maybe it was a one-time thing for him? Or maybe he didn’t enjoy it? I don’t know.”

Emma struggles to explain the difficult dynamic between her and Eric without giving away his dark secret. “I just feel like maybe he wants to be just . . . I don’t think sex is . . . he’s just . . . he’s not like other guys.”

“Guys are dicks, Emma. They always play these kinds of games.” Abby smiles and sips. “What’s his name anyway?”

“Eric. His name is Eric.”

“Are you going to Sean and Danni’s engagement party? You should bring him. Danni and I would love to meet Sexy Neighbor Guy—I mean Eric—in person.”

“I haven’t seen him or heard from him, how am I going to ask him out on a date? Besides, I don’t think he’s into
dating
. I think it might be over.”

When these words leave Emma’s lips, she feels her heart crack and split in ways she did not expect.

“So . . . what . . . he just fucked you once and that’s it? Just call him.”

Emma chokes on her coffee. “Will you watch your mouth, Abby?”

“Well, if you’re not going to bring him to the engagement party, then you should at least invite him to the Carnival next week. That’s innocent enough, right?”

Emma almost laughs out loud at the visual of Stormy Eyes at a Catholic Charity Carnival, but she
has
been racking her brain trying to think of an excuse to see him. Several deceitful ideas have crossed her mind.

She’s thought of breaking one of the already almost broken things in her house, and asking for his help. She’s even thought of locking herself out. A part of her wants him to heal from his sickness, but a larger part of her wants to tempt him into it again, to have his hands on her once more. She’s been scheming of some way to have him in her grasp. Being at Eric’s mercy has been all she can think of. Her attraction to him is consuming her; it’s almost like an addiction.

“Yeah. Maybe I will. We’ll see.”

The wind chime clinks and wavers in the wind, releasing its sweet song into the spring evening. Emma sits alone in jeans and a sweatshirt on her porch in the fading light of the day. She’s gone back to wandering through the halls of her home like a ghost. Alone, abandoned, cast off, unwanted. She holds her cell phone in her hand. She’s in a trance, staring at the path between their houses. To have someone come into her life and then vanish, after being alone for so long, is crushing her. The longing for him is like honey in her veins, thick and heavy.