Vengeance Duet: Truth Part 18

"Em, I just..."

"Don't," Mom voices behind Em. "Let's just have some lunch, shall we?"

"Sure," Em answers, turning from me without another word and heading toward the kitchen with my mom.

As I look at the counter and all the shopping bags on top of it, my chest tightens with added tension. I'm willing to bet all of this is for Casey. My mom had placed her bags on the floor by the door and again, I'm willing to bet the same on the content of those.

"Did you call Tommy?" Em calls out from the kitchen.

"I did," I yell back as I start to carry the bags in and place them along the wall of the living room.

"Max?" Em calls to me while standing in the doorway as Mom busies herself making sandwiches.

"Yeah?"

"Are you home tonight?"

"Yeah," I reply quietly. "I'm here for a while."

Looking down at her feet, she crosses her arms over her waist. I'm not sure if she's trying to hold in her happiness because she feels guilty for this small piece of us together or if she's hesitant to be thankful for it.

"Okay," she answers quietly, giving nothing away.

"Okay."

An hour or so later, Em left me with Mom, saying she had to check in at work. She starts her paid position at the vet's office where she works next week. Getting out of here the way she did wasn't without reason. I suspect she wanted me to have time alone with Mom. Although I'm grateful for it, I'm not entirely appreciative of the topic of conversation.

"I'm worried, son," Mom starts in. "Em told me everything," she finishes on a whisper.

It's only she and I in my apartment so her whispering isn't necessary, but that's my mother. She worries as much as Tommy and has trouble voicing her concern.

"Emma shouldn't have said anything," I reply.

Her face looks annoyed first, then angry, as she sits across from me in the corner chair. "Emma shouldn't have said anything?" she asks, eyebrows raised. "I'm upset you didn't tell me! I'm your mother."

"Mom," I return swiftly, lifting my hands in the air in effort to placate her. "It's okay."

"It's not! This little girl, Max..." she hesitates and adjusts her posture in her seat. "Do you know anything about her? Is she healthy? Is she..." she stops and takes a much needed breath. "I mean, my G.o.d, Max. Em was buying everything under the sun for her and she doesn't even know her."

"She does know her. That's the point. She loves Casey."

"You don't know her, do you?" she asks with a curious expression.

Without giving away too much more than what Emma already has, I tell her, "I do know her. I've seen and talked to her several times. She's Dee Dee's daughter."

Mom sits back in her chair, crosses her legs, takes a drink of her tea, and then looks me in the eye. "Dee Dee's daughter," she repeats with a sneer. "Dee Dee shouldn't have had children. She was trouble. Always trouble."

"I know this."

"That certainly didn't stop you from..."

c.o.c.king an eyebrow and looking at my mother in a way that quiets her, she thankfully stops talking mid-sentence.

"I'm a big boy now, Mom."

"I love Emma," she whispers on a complete subject change. "I do. I always have. She's a good girl. I remember her and Marie..."

Standing up, I make my way to her. Her neck cranes up to me, and I grab the tea from her hand and place it on the table beside us. The worried look on her face reminds me how long it's been since we've talked about Marie, if we ever have.

"Marie would love her for you." She's whispering again, this time to control her emotions. "My beautiful son, you haven't dealt with your sister's death any better than your father and I have."

Reaching down, I grab my mom's hand and lift it up to kiss softly. I close my eyes, trying to forget a time I should've been here to console her. I should've been here to help her and my father through the loss, but instead I was out searching for something that I thought would heal my own.

Mom's sniff causes me to open my eyes to find her tears ready to fall.

Bending my knees and crouching down in front of her, I take both her hands in mine and give them a gentle squeeze for rea.s.surance. "You're goin' to love Casey. I promise. She's a sweet girl."

"I don't like her mother," she tells me with pursed lips. "I hate that Chris and Gale have been handed so much heartbreak because of their daughter's choices. They should be able to know their only granddaughter."

This is proof my mother has had too much time to think about what's happening. But she's right, though. Em's parents have been oblivious to the life their only grandchild has been leading. The time apart has caused such a wedge, and Em's observance is correct; in their eyes, neither Dee Dee nor Casey exist.

"Chris and Gale wouldn't understand this," I tell her. "It's not lost on Em that when Dee Dee left and took Casey with her, this meant they'd never see her."

"I couldn't imagine never seeing my grandchild," she returns. "The thought of your dad and me missing out on so much..."

"They'll see her again," I a.s.sure. "And when they do, they'll have the freedom to love and spoil her as they should've had all this time."

My mother allows only one single tear to fall before removing her hand from mine and swiping it away with the grace she's always carried.

She reaches out, holds my cheek in hers and whispers, "I can't lose you, too. So if whatever you're doing is dangerous, I need you to know..." She breathes a quick breath. "I can't lose you, too."

I turn my head to quickly kiss the palm of her hand before standing. Looking down at her worried expression, I promise what I don't know to be true. "You won't lose me, Mom."

As she nods, she takes her eyes off me and looks outside to the back patio. My pack of cigarettes sits on the small table by my chair. "I didn't know you were smoking again. I thought you quit years ago," she states, then doesn't give me time to answer. "You need to stop. It's not good for you, not to mention it won't be good for Casey to see you lighting up once she gets here."

And there it is.

My mom's acceptance. Not of my smoking, but of bringing Casey out of the life she suffers in and into one every child deserves.

"I'll see what I can do about that," I throw back, stepping away and giving her room to stand.

"I've gotta go. Your dad's waiting for dinner."

Oh, I'm sure he is.

"Don't patronize me, son. You're not too old to take you over my knee."

"I said nothing," I deny, mocking her, but she knows I'm doing it anyway.

Thinking now would be a good time to make sure Mom's leaving in a good mood, I ask about Em's dog. Aimes had the woman he was sleeping with at the time before he left give the dog back to Em. He couldn't stay here, so Dad told us he'd take him.

"How's Owen?"

"Oh! Yes," Mom says while walking to the door. "I need to stop and get more biscuits."

"He's doing okay staying with you and Dad?"

"He is," she answers, securing her purse over her shoulder. "Dad loves him and Owen keeps him busy, so it works for all of us." She grins then finishes, "Tell Em I'll call her later. I'll tell your father you said h.e.l.lo. You need to call him soon. He's missing you."

"I know, Mom." I sigh. "I will."

With her hand on the doork.n.o.b, she turns to open it and finds Em on the other side just about to walk in.

"Ah," Mom addresses Em. "Good, it's your turn to watch him. See that he stays in tonight and rests. He looks tired."

Em smirks at me first then looks at my mom. "He'll be resting, I promise."

The two hug as I stand back and watch the women I love most in my life say goodbye as if they won't see each other the next day.

Women are ridiculous that way.

Once Em's inside the apartment, I get a better look at her and realize how much I've missed her. I've just been gone a day, but f.u.c.k if it doesn't feel like so much longer.

Her back leans again the front door, her hands resting behind her. She studies me for a few seconds, so I move my body against the wall near the kitchen entrance and she continues to take me in.

"I've missed you," she repeats what she told me earlier.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy about that."

"We have a lot to talk about," she informs.

My thoughts aren't on talking. With her dark, jeweled jeans and her old, worn-out Van Halen tee s.h.i.+rt, Em looks every bit like home and I haven't felt like I've had one of those in a long time. She's the one thing in all of this f.u.c.ked-up blurriness I see with absolute clarity.

"Later," I tell her.

"Later?"

"We can talk later."

Emma smiles shyly, pulls her body from the door, and walks to me. Once close enough to touch, she raises herself to her toes and kisses my lips. Before I allow myself to overreact, I give her the time and s.p.a.ce to continue kissing my jaw, my neck, and shoulders, until she stops at my chest and leans her forehead into it.

"How is she?" she asks. "Casey. Really, you can tell me."

Not knowing how to explain that Viktor, Casey's worse enemy, is also her biggest ally, I go for simple. "Believe it or not, right now, she's not in harm's way."

Her head pops up and her nose scrunches with what I a.s.sume is disbelief. "How's that possible?"

"It means, as of now, she's okay."

"Surely you don't believe that."

"I do and I don't."

"You're talking in circles," she accuses.

"Later," I tell her, lowering my face to hers and touching her soft lips with my own.

Her tongue meets mine the second her mouth draws open. My hand makes its way to the back of her head. Gripping the hair at the nape of her neck, I pull it to the side and deepen my hold on her. My other hand works to find the b.u.t.ton of her jeans and I start to undo them at the same time she works mine.

"Bed," she mumbles at the first break in the kiss.

"Bed," I confirm.

Reaching under her arms, I start to lift her. "Up," I demand, and she does what she's told, allowing me to carry her to the bedroom.

The pa.s.sion I've felt with Emma hasn't wavered, even after all the turmoil we've had to wade through. Once inside the bedroom, the kisses become frenzied as our hands explore each other's bodies.

Driving my fingers roughly through her hair, I hiss, "Get on the bed, Em."

Her eyes look up to mine and widen before she complies. Releasing me from her grasp, Em makes a move to sit where I've told her. Her fingers continue working the b.u.t.ton on my jeans in a hurried pace then she slides them down my thighs. Before I have a chance to finish removing them on my own, Em's hand reaches for my c.o.c.k and I watch as she slowly guides it to her mouth. It hits the back of her throat before she pulls it back and her pink tongue darts out to taste the tip.

My finger gently traces the expanse of her jaw and her big brown eyes look up to me from behind her lashes.

"Don't stop," I demand. "I've missed your mouth."

With a look of satisfaction, Em uses her hands to distract me and her mouth doesn't open completely. Instead, I watch her wet tongue circle around the head before concentrating on the sensitive flesh underneath it.

With a quick and jerky movement, I stop her by pulling the hair at the crown of her head and forcing her eyes on mine. "That'll get your a.s.s red."

Again, she looks satisfied.

"Em, mouth," I clip out next.

Finally, she goes back and this time, she doesn't slow her a.s.sault. My head tips to the ceiling as I close my eyes and use my hips to guide myself in and out of her. Once I'm closer than I know I should be, I pull back and her body falls slightly forward with surprise.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand then lies on her back, flat on the bed. It's an invitation.

"Hard and fast, Em," I tell her while removing my jeans and tossing them to the side. My s.h.i.+rt is next. Once it's off and out of the way, I watch as she does a small ab roll to remove hers.

"Jeans," I instruct, losing patience. "Get 'em off."

When I find she's in a lot less of a hurry than I am, I crouch between her legs. My teeth bite the skin of her hand and she laughs quietly, moving them out of the way. Once I start tearing at her jeans to remove them, I stop and position my mouth to cover the pink flesh just under her black lace panties.

Em's left fighting to remove her jeans in order to spread her legs further. Instead of letting her do this, I hold her legs still and move the fabric of her thong out of the way before using my tongue to tease her c.l.i.t. I refuse to make contact with it directly; instead, I caress around the edges before pulling my head back and offer quick, chaste kisses along her thigh.

"You said you missed me," she reminds me, as if I'd forgotten.

"I'm taking my time," I quickly reply, watching her eyes roll in annoyance as she looks toward the ceiling.