Page 35 of Dollhouse

“Freedom goes both ways, Noah. If you need a break from this, we can take it. But I know you and I know we’ll be back,” I say, my lips peppering butterfly kisses along the sharp line of his jaw.

Maybe a year would be good. Time for us to experience life on our own terms. He could never truly leave Mercy, though, and we both know it.

And I’m surprised to find that thought doesn't scare me at all. Instead I just feel giddy with the idea all we have ahead of us is a blank future, ready to be painted however we like.

Pushing him to his back, I slide on top, getting caught in the delicate heat of the moment as I straddle his hips. I don’t usually find myself in this position with Noah, and for a moment I’m unsure.

But his large hands fall to my hips, rolling them across his erection. “I want to see you take control, Em.” His voice is low, husky. It sends shivers across my skin, and inspiration straight to that low pulsing place inside me. His boyish smile tilts hismouth, and my thighs clench in response. “Use me the same way I love using you.”

Lifting my chin, I pull out every scrap of confidence I’ve gained since meeting this man and do as he asks.

He wants me.

We’re really doing this.

I race headlong into the blaze we set together becauseI’min control, and the view from up here is intoxicating.

NINETEEN

The day passesin a disjointed mix of stealing Noah’s peppermint kisses, listening to Jesse try and wrangle Bo into an elf costume, and squeezing batches of cookie cut-outs into every spare minute. Most of the dough makes it into the oven, but Bo’s sweet tooth rears its ugly head, and the buttercream frosting I’ve made keeps disappearing.

Molly lures me to my room before the afternoon can take on its shadows. As she surely hoped for, I fall asleep curled around her rumbling body.

When my eyes blink open, it’s the orange sky in the window that triggers my unease.

I had the dream again. Finding Noah’s dead body out in the woods, and running back to the cabin for help just to have everything bang into blackness as I’m locked inside.

Frozen, I stare at the opposite wall, trying to focus on the rise and fall of my chest as my heart batters inside it. I kick the sheet lower, letting the cool air meet my sweat-sheened skin.

In the dead of winter, the sun sets early, and the clock blinks that it’s just now time for dinner. Strange that nobody had come looking for me yet.

I slide my legs to the side of the bed, testing the chilled floorboards with my toes before deciding to grab my slippers out of the closet. The hallway is dark, and when I peek in Bo and Jesse’s room it sits silent and empty.

The nightmare always leaves me anxious, but somehow the feeling never seems to fade when I finally wake up. The fear simply hooks itself into my heart and hangs there, weighing it down for the rest of the evening.

I fist my hands, trying to remember the little chant Jesse tried to teach me for when I feel like this.

I’m not locked up. I’m not shut in. I’m not afraid.

How silly, needing lessons on dealing with my issues from someone who actually has them. Sosorry I’m like this, I just have trauma from nothing, because that’s all that’s happened to me my entire life.

I pad toward the stairs, desperate for the sight of someone else to make the world feel real again. Because suddenly, it feels like I’m the only person left, and I hate it.

It was just a dream, this is real life. They’re probably making dinner. It’s fine.

I’mfine.

Halfway down the stairs, the kitchen comes into focus, and I’m right. They are here, huddled around the kitchen island with Patrick and Landon.

All of their heads snap to look at me and I freeze, their expressions making my unease multiply. Noah and Patrick wear stony expressions, and Bo’s eyes are shouting his wariness.

Jesse and Landon lookamped up.

“What’s going on?” I ask, voice quieter than I’d meant it to be.

“Em,” Noah starts, pushing away from the counter and studying my mood. I can hear his thoughts racing from here, trying to figure out how to tell me something I won’t like.

“Something happened,” I guess, slowly winding my way down the stairs.