I feel him lean in close to me, his breath lightly grazing my ear. “I’ll take you for a ride anytime you want to, Emily, all you have to do is ask.”
My mouth goes dry and my body becomes hyperaware from how close he is, the night air suddenly thick with tension. Before I can respond he tugs on my hand, leading me forward. “Where are we?” I ask as I follow his direction.
“A place I like coming to when I want to be alone. It’s a cliff that overlooks the city.” I feel him stop and turn to me. “Are you warm?”
“Yes,” I answer, wondering what’s with the sudden question.
He removes his jacket from me then places it on the ground for me to sit on. I feel him take the spot next to me a second later and have to restrain myself from leaning into him like I so desperately want to.
Raising my knees, I wrap my arms around them then listen to the soft sounds of the night and feel the warm evening breeze whisper over every inch of my bare skin. “Describe to me what we’re looking at, Ryder.”
It takes him a moment to answer. “The clear sky above us is dark and covered in stars. Way off in the distance are thousands of lights from homes and buildings that light up the entire city. It looks like we are a world away, rather than minutes.”
It sounds beautiful and I try really hard to imagine what we are looking at but can’t. “Can you picture it?” he asks, as if reading my thoughts.
“No. I was so young when I lost my sight that it’s hard to remember what things looked like, or if it looks the same as what I remember.”
“You used to be able to see?” There is a note of surprise in his voice.
“Yes.” Silence stretches out between us, and I know he’s curious but won’t ask. “Have you ever heard of conversion disorder?”
“No.”
“It’s a psychological disorder that’s caused by severe emotional trauma. There can be a few side effects from it. Paralysis can be one and so is blindness. Obviously in my case, I’m the latter,” I pause briefly. “One morning, when I was seven years old, my father found me unconscious in the woods that surround our plantation. We have a small wishing well, actually it’s just a well but I call it a wishing well, anyway,” I wave my hand realizing that isn’t important, “I often used to sneak out of my bedroom at night and go to it. That night I couldn’t sleep because my father was hosting one of his political parties, so I snuck out of my room and started walking there. The next thing I remember is waking up and being surrounded by darkness.” I pause again and nervously clear my throat. “The doctors say I saw something in the woods that night. Something that terrified me enough that it put me into hysterics, but I don’t remember anything.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, which makes me wonder what he’s thinking.
When he says nothing else, I continue, “Intense psychotherapy or hypnosis could potentially unblock my mind, but my parents said they tried it when I was very young and I ended up in the hospital for a few days.”
He’s silent while trying to absorb everything I’ve just said. “Wait, so this is a psychological disorder? There isn’t anything wrong with your eyes?”
“Right.”
“So what’s with the sunglasses then?”
I tense. “What?”
“If there is nothing wrong with your eyes then why do you wear the sunglasses?”
I take a moment to think how I should answer then decide with the truth. “Because my mother forces me to. She finds it embarrassing that I can’t always keep my eyes focused and stop them from wandering. It’s one of the stipulations if I leave the house, I must wear them at all times, and…” I gasp in alarm when he suddenly snatches my sunglasses off, and I quickly turn my face away before he can see. “Ryder, what are you doing?”
“Let me see, Em.”
I shake my head, panic flooding my system as I think about him seeing the ugly parts of me. Worrying that he will see what my mother sees and be disgusted like her. “Please give me back my glasses,” I plead with a note of hysteria in my voice.
I feel him move in front of me and I quickly close my eyes before feeling his warm hands frame my face. “Open your eyes, Emily.”
“Ryder, please don’t do this.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
I don’t want to voice it, don’t want to tell him it’s my biggest insecurity, thanks to my mother. I swallow past the sudden burn in my throat. “Only a very few people have seen them.”
“I’m asking you to let me be one of them. I’m not going to judge you, Em, I swear. I just want to know you.” His sincere words have me relenting. Letting out a resigned sigh, I open my eyes and concentrate hard, hoping to stop them from wandering. My stomach drops when I hear him suck in a sharp breath. I try to turn my face away, but his hands hold me in place. “Don’t hide from me!” His voice holds a command that has me following the order.
I sense him staring at me, and wait anxiously for him to say something. The silence drags on but I can no longer stand it and break it, “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I think your mother is fucking crazy. Because what I see staring back at me is beautiful and should never be covered up.”
Warmth explodes through my body, reaching the very depths of my soul. I let out a relieved breath then smile when I think about what he just said about my mother. “My mother is definitely a different type of person, but I gave up fighting with her a long time ago. She can be very cruel.”
“How cruel?” His voice turns hard and I quickly realize what he must be thinking.
“Not physically if that’s what you’re asking,” I pause and think how I should explain it to him. “My parents have a certain standard you must meet, especially my mother, and let’s just say, thanks to my disability, I don’t meet that standard.” I shrug. “They are who they are and I learned a long time ago that nothing I say or do will ever be good enough for them, but that’s their problem not mine.”
I feel him watch me again and wish I knew what he was thinking. “You know, Em, you’re pretty insightful for someone who can’t see.”
I smile at his observation. “Actually, I can be quite insightful. I just see differently than all of you. You see with your eyes and I see with my hands.”
“I noticed in trig you were reading with your hands.”
“Yes. It’s called braille.” I reach into my purse and pull out my phone to show him. “Here, give me your hand.”
I take his fingers and trace them over my touch screen. “This is the letter A, and this is the number one.” The phone repeats the letters and numbers back as we trace over them.
Without meaning to I hit the message button, and the sound of an enraged Cece fills the silence. “Emily Michaels, are you fucking crazy? I am going to kick your ass if you aren’t already chopped up into a million pieces somewhere.”
Oh god.
“Did you not hear anything that I have been telling you all week about that guy? I am seriously going…”
I quickly shut it off before Ryder can hear any more. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper guiltily, feeling horrible he just heard that.
“How do you respond?”
“What?”
“How do you respond to her?”
I place his finger over the reply button. “You have to hold down while you speak.”
He takes the phone from me, and my heart pounds like crazy, wondering what he’s going to do. I hear the sound of the beep, signaling for him to speak. “Sorry, Emily is no longer here, but if you ask me nicely I may just tell you where I hid her body.”
Oh my god, I can’t believe he just said that. I cover my mouth to muffle the laughter that bubbles up my throat and wait for her to respond.
It’s only seconds before my phone chimes, signaling her response. “Jameson, you better be fucking with me right now. Because if you have done anything to her, my friend Louis and I are going to bring the wrath of hell down on your ass.” Cece’s voice is hard as she threatens to beat Ryder with her Louis Vuitton purse. “Do you hear me, buddy. Now put her on the…”