When I Was Theirs

40. Jared

40

Jared

F uck, it’s bright in here.

I crack one eyelid open, shifting until my head burrows into a pillow with a groan.

“Good morning.”

At the amused, lyrical voice, I bolt upright. Emilia raises an eyebrow, holding up a cup. “Coffee? I like mine strong.”

Head pounding and my mouth like sandpaper, I stare at her. Her hair is wet, the leggings and t-shirt more casual than I’ve seen her wear before as she hovers in front of me. “What… what are you doing here?”

Or more accurately… what the fuck am I doing here?

Bemused, I blink to clear the sleep from my eyes. Because this is her apartment. “I stayed here last night?”

“On the couch.” Emilia surveys me. “You don’t remember?”

There’s an uncertainty to her voice that makes me rack my brain to try. “We walked home from the bar.”

But everything is blurry. I collapse back down, throwing my hand over my eyes. “I was too drunk to walk home.”

“You were.” She nudges the cup into my hands. “I’ll get you some painkillers.”

“Thanks.” I take a sip, grimacing. She wasn’t kidding. It’s like tar. But… not bad, actually.

I need all the caffeine I can get if I’m going to have any hope of moving from this spot.

“I’ll get out of your hair in a minute. Are you working today?” The bang of a cupboard door comes from behind me, and Emilia returns, passing me two painkillers and a bottle of water that she cracks open so I can swig it with my free hand.

She settles on the floor opposite me, cradling her own coffee. “It’s Sunday, so no.”

Already?

She purses her lips. “What are you doing today?”

Staring at walls and contemplating the giant fuck-up I’m making of my life.

I clear my throat. “Not much. You?”

One shoulder lifts. I catch a glimpse of skin, marred by the same mottled scarring that covers her cheek. “There’s a flea market down by the pier. I was going to walk down, if you want to come and clear your head.”

I hesitate. She sounds casual enough, but there’s something. “What did we talk about last night?”

Why does it feel different?

Because you slept on her couch, and now she’s sitting opposite you with bare feet and wet hair.

This feels... intimate. Another page of the book that is Emilia Marsters. Another step into her life.

Emilia studies me, and I start to panic until her forehead furrows. “Nothing. Just… random stuff.”

Oh.

Say no. Tell her you’re busy after all.

But that’s not what comes out of my mouth. “I haven’t really seen much of this place. Might be interesting.”

Not when I spend most of my free time in the apartment, drinking my way through the local alcohol supply. If I’m not there, I’m normally only in two places.

The cemetery.

Or bumping into the girl in front of me. “I should head home and change though.”

Emilia chews on her lip, her words hesitant. “I still have some of… Ben’s things. Here, I mean. They’d probably fit you. You’re welcome to have a shower.”

A pulse of pain in my heart. A reminder. “Sure.”

I drag my eyes from her, taking in her space. There’s a bamboo shelving unit directly across from me, and I focus on that instead.

My recoil is fast enough that I swear I feel my soul leave my body. “What the fuck is that?”

She follows my gaze. “Oh. Just ignore her.”

Fucking ignore her?

Panic threatens to close off my breath. “She looks like she’s about to crawl over and drag me to another dimension.”

Emmy snorts with laughter, her hand slapping over her mouth. It would be adorable, if I wasn’t currently freaking the hell out. “You’re scared of a doll?”

“Who in their right mind wouldn’t be scared of that thing?” I can’t look away. “Where did you get it?”

It’s watching me. Long dark hair sits on either side of its china face, creepy wide eyes with freakishly realistic eyelashes and a china dress. “Did it just blink ?”

Actual laughter spills from her. “Don’t look at her, and she won’t curse you.”

I rip my eyes away, my expression pleading. “Emilia. Please. Put a blanket over her or something.”

I’m actually sweating. “I’m suddenly re-evaluating everything I thought I knew about you.”

Her laughter grows, until she’s bent over at the waist, clutching her stomach as she gasps. “Stop.”

My fear recedes slightly at the sound. “Is offering me a shower a ploy to sacrifice me to a demon or something? Because nobody normal would choose to display that thing voluntarily.”

Her shoulders are shaking. “That’s why I got her. The owner of the store was going to put her in the trash.”

I stare at her, aghast. “And you stopped him?”

“I felt sorry for her!” she protests, wiping her eyes. “She even has a name. Geraldine.”

“ Lalalalala .” I shove my fingers in my ears and squeeze my eyes shut. “For the love of God, don’t say it three times. I’ve seen this movie before, Emilia.”

“I’ll protect you. She owes me a favor for saving her. What are you doing ?”

I wave my fingers in the air. “Making the sign of the cross.”

Emilia completely loses it. She’s still laughing when I rip the blanket off and storm into her tiny kitchen.

I mean, the fear is real. But as the low, husky sound of Emilia laughing her ass off fills the air around me, I find myself smiling, too.

It’s a good sound.

Even if the doll is creepy as fuck.