Chapter 13: Don't Look Back in Anger

Take me to the place where you go, where nobody knows If it's night or day

Aaron finds her sitting outside on one of the tree-lined patios on the lower level of the mansion. She's directly in the sun, feet propped up and a magazine resting on her knees. There's a full glass of something that looks alcoholic on the table next to her; her back is to the gated entrance so she can't see him. The only thing visible from the back of her chair is her messy bun sticking out over the top.

He wonders if she knows already. He pauses briefly, contemplating coming clean but quickly decides against it.

"Hello, Aaron." Her voice is cool, calculated, and perfectly smooth. She doesn't even turn around, and he hasn't made a sound. How did she know he was there?

"Emily," he keeps his tone even, taking three steps onto the patio. It's breezy and the sun is warm, but that's not why he's already started to sweat through his suit. "Mind if I sit?"

She shrugs, takes her sunglasses off, and looks up at him suspiciously. "Do I have a choice?"

"Of- of course you do," he stutters, momentarily taken aback at her curt response. "Do you want me to leave?"

Emily's eyes widen briefly, considering his offer before her face softens ever so slightly. "I guess not." She moves over a few inches, making space for him on the chair.

Has anyone ever given her a choice before?

"Haven't seen you in a few days." It's been five, but who's counting?

"I've been busy." She really hasn't at all, but he doesn't have to know that. Besides doing everything in her power to avoid him, the extent of her productivity includes a few days of laying by the pool with Allison, and a few nights of drinking alone in her bedroom until she passed out or threw up, whichever came first. She's successfully been able to avoid most people including her mother, much to her relief.

"I see." He clearly doesn't believe her, but she doesn't care.

"Are you just going to stand there? Or did you come here for something?"

Aaron sits down beside her, peering closely at her face. "It looks a lot better." He touches his thumb to the slowly healing bruise under her eye, then presses around her cheek gently, feeling for any residual swelling. Moving his thumb down her nose with even more tenderness, he exhales with relief."The swelling has gone down a lot. Are you taking anything?"

"Not really."

"You aren't taking any painkillers?"

"They didn't do much in the first place," she grumbles under her breath, and it takes all of her willpower not to lean into his hand. "It's still going to scar."

"I wouldn't worry too much about that," he says almost too kindly, his hand lingering on her face.

She pulls away quickly, putting her sunglasses back on. An uneasy silence falls between them and he pulls at his tie, watching her turn back to her magazine with disinterest.

"So, did you hear about Tom?" Emily breaks the silence, casually flipping through her magazine, yet her tone tells him everything he needs to know. It isn't a question. It's a confirmation.

So she does know. The more important question, however, is how much she knows.

He lifts his eyebrows, hoping it's convincing. "What are you talking about?"

"Someone beat him up in a bar on Friday night. Scared the living fuck out of him, I heard." Another flick of the page, yet he feels her eyes watching him carefully.

"Good," he says tightly, not feeling an ounce of guilt. "He deserved it."

"Maybe," she murmurs, not looking at him. "I heard he was pretty messed up. He spent two days in the hospital."

"And that saddens you?"

"I never said that."

Aaron's hand travels to the gun at his side, perhaps unconsciously. "I told you it was going to stop."

She smirks bitterly, but her shoulders start to tense. It was worth it, he reminds himself.

"And where did you end up on Friday night after you left my room?" Another flick of a page in the magazine. She's testing him. He recognizes the signs. She knows more than she's letting on, just like him.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, it matters." Emily pulls her sunglasses down, eyes baring into his. "I think I have a right to know, all things considered." A shadow falls over her face, and from this angle the bruises on her cheek are more prominent. Another reminder it was all worth it.

"I told you it was going to stop," he repeats again, stone-faced.

She's mid sigh when she notices it; she can't believe she didn't see it sooner. She tosses her magazine to the side; her body stiffening like a board. She looks him square in the face, as if daring him to lie to her. "What happened to your hand, Aaron?"

Her voice is so cold it nearly sends a chill down his spine. He glances down to where her eyes are locked in on his right hand. His knuckles are still healing from the other day - the torn skin bruised an ugly shade of purple. He'd completely forgotten about it - it's started to scab over, yet it hides nothing.

"Tell me you didn't do what I think you did." Emily reaches for his hand, brushing her fingers over the rough skin. Her touch is surprisingly gentle, yet her fingers are like ice.

He's silent, his face lined with guilt.

"Aaron!" It's as much of an answer as she needs, and she drops his hand with disgust. "So it was you."

He averts his gaze, unable to look her in the eyes.

"You should have just stayed the fuck out of it," She snaps, moving away from him on the chair.

"That was off the table the minute I saw what he did to you."

"It wasn't that bad," Emily attempts, not fully believing her own words, yet she says them anyway because she's been saying them for so long it's the first thing that comes to mind.

"You were there that night, weren't you? You saw what he did, right? He broke your nose, Emily. Messed up half your face. You're lucky it wasn't any worse."

"You said it would stay between us," she seethes. He's never seen her so angry. "You gave me your word."

"I told you I wouldn't tell anyone, and I didn't."

No, you just weaseled your way into my business and became another problem for me to solve.

Emily slaps her magazine shut, rising to her feet. "Do you know what this means? Do you know what you've done?"

He glares at her, setting his jaw. "He could have killed you. Is that what you want? Do you want it to go that far one day? Because that would have been next."

"Some days, I don't know what the hell I want, Aaron." There's so much weight behind her words he isn't even sure if she's talking about Tom anymore.

He's tempted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her for being so indifferent towards her own well-being. But she crosses her arms over her chest, backing away from him cautiously.

"His father is asking questions, and if there's anyone who will find answers, it's him. People are talking about the person who showed up at a bar seemingly out of nowhere and broke his son's jaw before knocking him nearly unconscious. It was on the fucking news, Aaron."

"Good. Let them ask," Aaron says pointedly. "He should know about the piece of shit son he raised."

"Where do you think he learned his ways?" Emily rolls her eyes, staring him down. "His father would probably congratulate him."

"That's not even close to a valid excuse," he fumes right back.

"I didn't want to think you actually betrayed my trust, Aaron. I thought for once it was karma finally biting him in the ass after everything he's done for so long."

"That wasn't my intention, Emily." Despite her obvious anger, he isn't sorry about any of it. In fact, he'd do it all over again if he could, but he keeps that to himself.

"But you did." Emily's voice thickens for a brief second and she swallows hard, shaking her head. "I had a feeling it was you the second I heard about it."

"I wasn't going to let him hurt you again."

She shakes her head. "His father is powerful. He's the reason why my mother still has her job. If this gets out, guess what happens. I won't disappoint her again, Aaron. I've done that too many times." She sinks back to the chair, resting her elbows on her knees, massaging her temples.

"Your mother should straighten her priorities," he says boldly, before instantly realizing it was the exact wrong thing to say in this particular moment. Emily's face darkens, and wherever her mind goes, he isn't sure he wants to know.

"Someone saw what happened that night, and if it gets back to you," she bites, "It will eventually get back to me. Then it's my problem. Imagine the questions that will raise," she adds with a pointed stare. "Think of the rumors that would start about you and me."

She's right. Those rumors could cost him his job, quite possibly his career.

"Does anyone else know what he did to you? What he has done to you?" Using her own words against her feels wrong, as if he's indirectly assaulting her again.

Emily laughs without a trace of humor; her fingers unconsciously reach up to her eye, brushing over her nose. "You're impossibly naive, Aaron."

"Or maybe I just give a damn. Someone needs to know the truth."

"No one needs to know anything," Emily says quietly, wrapping herself in the towel on the chair despite the scorching sun. "It's not their business."

"People need to know that he's an abusive son of a bitch." Aaron says pointedly. "You deserve better than that."

"Better? As in someone like you?"

He freezes almost immediately, his mouth falling open just enough for her to tell she's won. He uncharacteristically stumbles over his words. "That's - that's not what I -"

Emily rises to her feet again, slapping her sunglasses back on her face and covering herself with her wrap. "I don't need to be saved, Aaron. I don't need to be protected or defended, whatever you think you were doing. I've taken care of myself long enough." She crosses her arms over her chest, and even with her eyes hidden he can see the anger in her face. "And I certainly don't need you." She turns on her heel sharply and slams the door into the house, leaving him alone on the patio.