Page 30 of Dollhouse

A ghost of a smile spreads on his face, one I don’t think I’ve seen on him before. He looks younger, lighter. “I’m pretty sure she thought I was her pup, sleeping at the foot of my bed every night, following me around outside when I would go play in the woods. It never helped with making friends though, I was still hopeless at trying to be normal at school and mom eventually pulled me to learn from home.” He quirks a brow at me. “I had convinced myself I was a psychopath and that’s why I couldn’t talk to people.”

Confused, I trace the outline of his hand with my fingertip. “Why? Just because you didn’t have many friends?”

“No, because I didn’t love anyone the way I loved my dog. Looking back, obviously I know I loved my family. But I was so…frozenall the time that I couldn’t function correctly. Shiloh was the only one that didn’t look at me with concern.”

“I wonder why you felt that way.”

“Pretty sure I was just scared all the time that Dad wouldn’t come home from a mission,” he says. “He never did keep the organization a secret from us. He thought it would make it easier for me to accept my place in it if I knew what was going on from childhood. But really, I just obsessed over never getting to see him again. Or worrying that a bad guy would kill all of us.” He shrugs. “Eventually, I just stopped talking as much. Shiloh was the exception, but when she died, that ended too.”

I bite my lip, sorrow heavy on my tongue from his story. “I’m glad you had her.”

“Me too.” He nudges me with his elbow. “Let’s hear it. You can’t con me out something like that and not do the same”

“What doyouwant to know?” I ask, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“Give me something sad so we match.”

I scoff. “I was incredibly sheltered. Privileged. I didn’t have much of anything happen to me, ever.”

“It’s not just big events that can be sad, though?”

I consider this, and I guess that’s true. “This is going to sound really weird, but just stick with me. I used to have a giant room when I was a little girl, and it's exactly how you would picture a spoiled little girls room. There was expensive furniture, and the thing around the bed that was like film hanging down to make a canopy. Dolls everywhere, bows, ribbons, you name it. And in the corner by the window, there was this giant, intricate dollhouse that was as tall as I was. It had a little gold hinge on the side, so the two sides would open and you could play with the dolls in the different rooms.” I laugh quietly. “We do match kind of, I think that was my fifth birthday present, too. But I spent a lot of time in my room because my parents were always entertaining people. I couldn't be around for that.”

I frown. “Actually, a lot. They were there constantly, like everyday. Dinners and meetings. I would get dressed up andcome down to sayhiand then mom would send me right back upstairs. I spent a lot of time with that dollhouse. I would get in trouble with my mom for leaving it open and leaving the dolls on the floor, and she would always shut it and lock it. Every morning, it would smack shut and the lock would click. And then, when she would leave the room, I would go back and unlatch it, crack it open. So my dolls wouldn’t be afraid of the dark like I was.”

His hand reaches down and takes mine. I realize I’m staring at the ceiling, lost in my memories. A frown tugs at the corner of my mouth and I chew on my lip. “My nightmares actually started when I moved out, and into my home with Eric. I never told anyone this because it sounded insane, but at night I started having the same dream that I was a doll, too. And that I was wandering the dollhouse all day by myself, looking for someone that wasn’t there. And then, it would start to go black because they’d shut the house on me.”

I swallow heavily, the claustrophobic feeling like a muscle memory. Noah rolls me to my side so that I’m facing him.

His eyes trail my face, taking me in, his hand running up my thigh in soothing strokes. “I think it’s fair to say they looked at you like a doll, baby, so that fear makes sense.”

I shrug. “Yeah, everyone always just left me to go see the real world. My parents,him. I just waited for someone to come pick me up and play with me.” I laugh. “How pitiful. Is that sad enough for you?”

Face still lined with sleep, he moves his lips to trail my shoulder. The hot suction of his mouth on my skin making me tighten. “His loss,” he says. “Now his little doll belongs to me.”

I smile despite myself. “Do you have a new dollhouse to put me in? I don’t think I ever want to go back to that one.”

He shakes his head, and my heart plunges for a moment until his lips find mine for another dark, sultry kiss. “When this isover, you’ll never be locked up again, Emma. It’s your world as much as it's mine. I don’t keep my pretty things on a shelf like that.”

I shiver at his words, taking his face in my hands and kissing him, hoping it conveys that ache that’s taken over my heart.

“Try to get back to sleep, baby. And if you dream of locked houses, I’ll be right here to open them back up.”

SEVENTEEN

If I simply ignore thefact that we’ve been stuck inside for months and shuffled from safe-house to safe-house, I can pretend that Christmas is something to be excited about.

I’m almost content; the last few weeks having been comparatively calm—or maybe I’m just getting used to the chaos.

Noah is healing well after his encounter with who we’re assuming were Bundy’s men. He’s still obsessively watching and monitoring the organization’s intel and networks, making sure that there are no signs of anyone having our location. I don’t say too much about the amount of time he spends in the computer room, mostly because I think it keeps him buoyed. Noah needs control and in a situation like this, sometimes the only control he has is simply to watch.

Waiting isnothis strength. Nor Jesse’s, who bounces off the wall after only a few days being shut away. It’s too cold to really explore the nearby caverns, but I do catch him running through the woods most mornings in a muscle shirt, as if the chill doesn’t bother him in the slightest. Bo simply watches through the sliding glass doors, wrapped in a duvet from the couch as Jesselaps the cabin again. It’s good for him. He needs the outlet, or we all suffer the consequences of him bringing his energy back inside with him.

It’s just the four of us most of the time, outside of the occasional visit from Aiden and Liam. Noah’s mom dropped by shortly twice to drop off some baked items and I find myself gravitating toward her every time she pops in. That maternal energy she has, I just can’t help but let her fret over me. The issues I have with my own mother that must be deeply ingrained inside methriveunder her attention.

And watching Noah with her is surprisingly attractive. He kind of dwarfs her small frame, but smothers her with a hug when she shows up, opening her car door, helping with her coat. Between Jesse and him she barely lifts a finger. She’s obviously done wonders on teaching them proper manners, even if they do act like possessive monsters with Bo and me.

Patrick was obviously given the new location, and he forces Landon to drag us supplies every week. I hound the both of them for any information since Noah seems to think keeping me in the dark is for my best interest.