Stolen Course by Aly Martinez
“Thanks,” she returns with a sad smile. “You sure you don’t want a drink?”
“I shouldn’t. I’ve got to work in the morning.”
“You still a cop?”
“Yep.”
“You think you can sweet talk the nurses and get me back to see Sarah?” she asks without even a glimmer of humor in her eyes. Despite how hard I try, I can’t stop the smile from crossing my lips.
“Probably, but the uniforms outside her door don’t respond nearly as well to my charm,” I respond dryly, and her smile immediately grows to match mine.
“Well, it’s obvious you don’t try hard enough then.” She smirks, and I let out a small chuckle.
“Emma Jane, it was really nice to meet you.”
“You’ll keep me informed, right?”
“Of course.” And before I have a chance to flirt any more, I force myself to walk away.
“MARRY ME.” I thrust inside her so hard it pushes her up the bed and slams her into the headboard.
She answers the same way she always does. “No.”
Her rejection never gets easier. She loves me. I know she’ll spend the rest of her life with me, but I want more. I want to share a last name and make beautiful redheaded babies with her. I just want her to be mine. I don’t know why I need a marriage certificate to do that. She’s never been anything but mine since the day I first laid eyes on her.
“Manda, fucking marry me. You’re wearing the ring, so stop playing games and set a date.”
“I’m not playing games.” she whispers while moving to flip me.
I roll over and settle on my back as she begins to slowly ride me. She’s beautiful. The very idea of her tight, slender runner’s body moving over me is enough to finish me off, but it’s more than that. She owns me.
Reading my mind, she leans over, whispering into my ear, “I’ll love you for the rest of my life.” Her voice is distant and sad. It immediately causes worry to flood my veins.
I try to open my eyes to get a read on her, but they won’t budge. I struggle motionlessly underneath her, desperate to see those emerald greens. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t force my body to cooperate. Oblivious to my struggle, she never stops moving—harder and faster as the minutes pass.
Suddenly her scream pierces through the darkness. “Caleb!” It’s not pain or pleasure. It’s pure unadulterated terror.
I’m paralyzed against the bed, but I can’t grab her or save her from whatever demon that has taken hold. All the while, her relentless rhythm on my cock never falters. I fight under her, trying to see her, touch her. But I can’t move. It’s too dark, and my arms must weigh a thousand pounds.
“Manda!” I try to yell as fear rushes through my body, but no sound escapes my throat.
I strain, immobile under her touch. Her voice suddenly changes, and words I don’t immediately recognize hit me hard.
“I’m not my sister.”
I freeze as my mind tries to process who said it. Suddenly, a tall blonde with blue eyes flashes into my mind.
“I’m not my sister,” she repeats.
“Emma?” I silently whisper. She continues to move, and images of her dance through my blindness.
“Oh God, Caleb, yes!” she sighs as her body pulses around my cock.
My eyes suddenly open, and the shit storm known as my life rushes back into focus. Sitting on top of me is a raven-haired beauty. By any man’s standard, she is insanely sexy, yet the very sight of her makes my stomach turn.
“Get off me.” I roll to the side, causing her to fall to the bed.
“What the hell?” she shouts as I stand, snatching off the condom and gathering my clothes from the floor.
“What the fuck was that, Lisa?”
“That was me getting off, you dick.”
“No. I wake up from a sound sleep to you riding my dick?”
“Fuck you, Caleb. You started that shit. Don’t act like I was raping you or something. I woke up to you sliding into me. You should be thanking me. I might have been half asleep but I at least had the good sense to use a fucking condom.”
“Shit!” I run a rough hand through my hair. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Manda again?” she asks quietly, rising to her knees.
“Don’t you say her name. Ever,” I say to the wall, not wanting to make eye contact with her. I don’t even bother to offer her a second glance. I barely tug my jeans over my ass before I’m out the door and pulling on my shirt as I walk to my truck.
This isn’t the first dream I’ve ever had about Manda, but it is most definitely the first time she has ever morphed into a different woman. And of all women for her to become, it had to be Emma fucking Erickson. I shouldn’t be thinking about her, and she sure as shit should not be invading my dreams. But as I drive home, I can’t stop thinking of those two seconds she was riding me. The way it felt with her long blond hair sweeping over my face and her blue eyes piercing into mine. Worst of all, I can’t help but remember the way it felt when she came, even if it was Lisa I was inside. Fuck.
WHEN I get home from Lisa’s, I’m desperate to escape these thoughts of Emma Erickson. I know just the way to do it, too. I walk into my dark and empty house, flipping on the lamp, and head straight to my hall closet. I open the door to retrieve the cardboard file box I keep hidden away on the top shelf. I’m the only one who knows it’s there, but that doesn’t mean I don’t pull it out almost daily. Living alone has its perks sometimes.
I carry the box to my kitchen table and follow the same sick routine I always do. After pulling off the lid, I begin my nightly investigation. Laying each picture of the wreck out in front of me, I scan every single image. I’ve looked at them so many times over the last few years that I could probably draw them from memory. I can’t even begin to tell you how many hours I’ve spent reading and rereading witness statements from that night. I have them memorized at this point, but that doesn’t stop me from poring over them, wishing and praying the answers will somehow jump from the page.
Even though the wreck that stole Manda from me was almost five years ago, my need to know what happened that night is still as strong as it was the night I vowed to never stop searching.
“CALEB!” I hear wailed from outside my door. “Caleb, please open up.” I immediately recognize the voice as Sarah’s. Her tone softens as she begins to beg and, if I’m not mistaken, cry. “Please.” I hear a loud thunk that I can only imagine is her head dropping against the door.
I pause for a second, trying to make sure I’m fully awake before opening the door. I don’t need to face this situation with a groggy head. I scrub my face and glance round the room. My eyes land on the small potted violet on my end table in the corner. I stare at it for a minute, remembering why it’s there and losing my breath in the process. The guys at the station all chipped in and sent me that ridiculous flower the day of the funeral. I’m sure Dana, the receptionist, ordered it. None of them had any clue how much Manda hated the color purple. Oh yeah, I need to go back to bed. This is all too fucking real. My Manda is still gone.
I can’t help that I immediately flash to Manda’s face as I kissed her goodbye that horrific night. She had a bright smile and shining green eyes. She was clinging to my leg under the table when Brett announced that we had to leave. When I look back, it’s as if she were subconsciously trying to keep me with her. The permanent knife in my gut twists just a little deeper at that thought. Not a minute has passed in those three months since the accident where I haven’t imagined the ‘what if I had stayed’ scenario. But I didn’t, and that one decision cost Manda her entire life.
There are a lot of things I would change about that night, and all of them would leave my fiancée laughing beside me. Manda and I fought a lot, including on the way to Westies that night. Looking back, I realize that it was a stupid argument, but I would live it on loop for the rest of my life if it meant I just got to keep her.
“Caleb, I…” Sarah sobs again
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snatch open the door.
Sarah stumbles inside like a drunk on heels. I watch her crash to the ground. I almost reach out to catch her, but at the last second, I pull my hands away.
“Shit,” she says, standing back up on shaky legs. I don’t even offer a helpful hand. I just stand there and watch her struggle.
“What the hell do you want?” I slam the door, narrowly missing her body.
“Do you have Manda’s necklace?” she asks, rocking me back on my heels.
She didn’t come here to talk or to apologize for stealing my entire life. No, she came here for a fucking cheap-ass necklace that they got on vacation. It’s one of those cheesy heart “best friends” necklaces. She and Manda both had half, and neither one of them ever took it off. My already boiling blood makes my cruel words come even quicker than I would have thought.
“You fucking bitch! You have some serious balls to show up at my door asking for anything!”
“I don’t feel her anymore,” she whimpers, dropping back to her knees. “I just… Please, I need to feel her.”
“Guess what, Sarah? I don’t feel her either. That’s because she isn’t fucking here anymore. She gone, and you want to know why?”
She expects my answer and quickly looks up at me with sad eyes. “I wasn’t driving,” she whispers.
“Yes, you fucking were! Own it!” I scream at the top of my lungs.
“Caleb, please. I love her. I would never knowingly hurt Manda.”
“No, Sarah. You loved her. It’s past tense now. She is fucking dead, remember?” I spit out the words as I watch her flinch with each syllable.
I need someone to pay for what happened to Manda, and I don’t give two shits if it is her best friend. I need something to make me feel again. I’ve been so numb over the last few months, and I don’t care if doing this will make me feel like an asshole. At least I’ll feel something. I was already pissed at Sarah, but when she showed up here tonight, asking for something of Manda’s? Well, she may as well have thrown herself into the lion’s den. I’m not usually a cruel man, but I can definitely make an exception for the woman who killed the love of my life.
“You are one selfish bitch, Sarah. Not three months ago, you killed the only woman I have ever loved. She was my fucking life and you murdered her!” I roar so loud my voice actually breaks. “Then you show up on my doorstep, asking for her most prized possession? And you’re delusional enough to think that begging will actually make me to give it to you? If it were up to me, you would be rotting in a jail cell right now, but as it stands, you are prancing around town, while Manda is buried six feet under.” That admission hits me hard as my mind flashes to an image of Manda in a casket. I stumble over my words, trying to erase the image that can’t be unseen. “You need to really listen to me right now. I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove that you were drunk and driving the car that night. And when I do, I am going to take everything from you—the same way you did me.”
“I don’t have anything left for you to take.” Her chin begins to quiver as tears openly flow from her blue eyes.
“Oh, I think you do. Now get the fuck out of my house,” I say, staring down at the floor with my hands securely on my hips. I can’t look at her without my rage bubbling over.
“Please, Caleb. I need something, I’m dying here without her.” She all but crawls across the floor to my feet.
It catches me off guard to see this devastated side of Sarah. I almost feel sorry for her for a split second, but just as quickly as that feeling passed over me, it disappears.
“Get out!”
“Please,” she whispers, still holding my leg.
I look down and lose whatever calm I thought I had. “You want her necklace?” I ask, and she immediately perks up. The tears still run down her face, but for the first time since she arrived, she appears to have some glimmer of hope.
I walk to my bedroom and pull Manda’s necklace off her nightstand. It’s been there since they handed me her belongings at the hospital. I stomp back into the den, where Sarah is standing, trying to collect herself. She is rubbing her fingers under her eyes where her eye makeup is running down her cheeks. My mind jumps to the million times I’ve watched Sarah and Manda swipe the makeup away after hours of drinking and dancing.
“Are you drunk right now?” I pause, edging toward the door.
“What? No!” she screams.
“You sure?” I ask again, pulling open the front door.
“I’ll never drink again,” she solemnly swears, but it does nothing to quell the flame burning inside me.
“Sarah, I’m going to destroy you the same way you did me, even if it’s the last thing I do in this life. Now get out,” I repeat as I extend my hand, showing her Manda’s half of the necklace.
Her eyes light before her whole face crumbles in despair. She rushes toward me, ready to claim her reward. But as far as I’m concerned, there will never be a reward for her. I turn just as quickly and sling my arm as hard as I can toward my front yard. Her eyes go wide while trying to track the necklace’s trajectory, but the darkness cloaks everything.
“No!” she screams, rushing outside.
I slam the door behind her and move toward the window to watch her scramble. She frantically starts searching the grass, collapsing to the ground for a better view. I watch with a sick sense of triumph as she pulls her cell phone out of her pocket for extra light. I smile to myself before walking back to the door, casually flipping off the outside lights and heading for bed.
I stay awake for hours, constantly looking out my window. Sarah must have combed every inch of that yard, and I took great pleasure in watching her look. By the time she finally relents, her knees are covered in mud and her face is streaked with tears.
Five hours after she pulled into my driveway, Sarah pulls out of it.
Thirty seconds after she leaves, I reach into my pocket, pull out Manda’s necklace, and gently place it back on her nightstand. Right where it should be.
FOR FORTY-EIGHT hours, I’ve done nothing but think about Emma Jane Erickson. I’ve tried everything to stop, but the brief memories from my dream won’t let me go. I can’t figure out what it is about her that consumes my every thought. You know, if I don’t count her Victoria’s Secret runway model good looks. Fuck, I couldn’t jerk off enough to forget how she looked running down that hospital hallway. Trust me. I tried.
My visit to Lisa made things even worse. She usually helps me forget everything. She’s great in bed, even if she is crazy as a circus sideshow out of it. This time, even she couldn’t dull the ache in my body for Emma. I’ve almost broken my phone twelve times calling for updates about Sarah. I needed a reason to dial Emma’s number, but I had nothing new about her sister to share.
Finally I caught a break this morning. It seems Sarah’s neurologist got involved in her criminal investigation. I have no doubt that the pixie finger that dialed that doctor’s number was any other than Jesse Addison. She is hell-bent on saving Sarah, even if it is from afar. She has this silly notion that Brett needs Sarah to be okay. Truth be told, Brett just needs Jesse. Sarah isn’t even a blip on his radar anymore.
I’ve been sitting on my couch for forty-five minutes staring at my phone. Debating on what to tell Emma. Of course, I’ll tell her the truth, but how do I sugarcoat it? Fuck it, I’m just going to do it. She doesn’t strike me as a woman who needs to be coddled.
“Hello.” Her smooth Southern drawl slides through the phone.
“Emma?”
“Hey, Caleb. I’m so glad you called. I’ve been worried sick. What’s going on?” She jumps right to the point of the call.
“Sarah’s fine. She’s still in the hospital. Sorry I didn’t call you sooner.”
“She’s still at the hospital? W
“It seems her doctor got involved, and he’s keeping her there, claiming she’s incompetent. He’s basically cock-blocking the police from touching her.”
“Oh my God, Caleb. That’s fantastic news!” she says so excitedly that I almost want to be happy with her. I can’t though. Sarah belongs in jail, if for no other reason than what she did to Manda.
“Yeah, so we are just waiting to see what happens with her doctor and attorney tomorrow.”
“Caleb! I wish I could kiss you right now!” she screams through the phone.
“Oh yeah? I should call more often then.” I laugh at her enthusiasm.
“I’ve been sick all day about the idea of Sarah sitting in a cell. This is the best news in days. I’m getting drunk to celebrate.”
“You calling up all your girlfriends and going out or staying in for your little celebration?”
“I don’t have many girlfriends. My two best friends are guys. They are always up for getting drunk.”
My blood boils. She’s going out with two fucking dudes. Of course they are always up for getting drunk. They probably spend the whole night staring at her tits and imagining putting their dicks in her ass.
“Fuck!” It just comes out. I know I sound like a douche right now. I’ve met this woman exactly once and I was a bastard. I was inside another woman less than twenty-four hours ago, yet here I am getting pissed off at the idea of her with another man.
“What? Something wrong?” she asks sweetly.
“No, just be careful. Make sure you catch a cab.” I try to get off the phone, but she stops me.
“Caleb, the guys I’m going out with tonight are my best friends and roommates. We share a small townhouse in downtown Savannah. No one will be driving tonight. The bar we go to is just down the street. Actually, all the bars are within walking distance. Okay?”
“Emma, you don’t owe me any explanations. I just didn’t want anyone drinking then driving.”