C H A P T E R  1 5  : 

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Emmett Hale wondered what Kelly Thomas, his alter ego, would do. This farm houses walls were too thin. He could probably hear a mouse squeak downstairs if it was loud enough — because he could hear soft animalistic sounds of a woman coming from Billy's room.

She's just doing it to get under your skin Em, he pushed himself off the stiff mattress. Floorboards creaked and shifted underneath his boots as he stepped into the hall. The door next to his was open a crack. That was the kids room. Emmett's hand pushed against it carefully, opening it enough to see in. The kid was sitting on his bed, headphones claiming both ears an iPad in-between both palms.

He left the door as it was, scuffing his heels as he walked. He could still hear them ... the taunting sound — jealousy twisted in his stomach. It didn't set right. He'd done everything asked of him, and more. Billy was all he's had, they were something, then in walks an old fling and Emmett's the one finding himself being called the 'old fling.' And he's not taking kindly to it.

Their door was coming up, his balled up fist hit against the door and his unshaven face pressed close. "I'm taking the car."

The sounds stopped. He could hear moving, and thudding, Billy came to the door still adjusting the waistband of his boxers. Emmett glanced down, they were the same ones he had given him as a gift this past christmas.

"Where are you going?" He breathed out, trying to flatten his hair.

"Going out." Emmett replied simply, tromping down the steps.

Maggie's voice was louder, more demanding, commanding him to stay inside. The pair was so forceful they both, barely clothed, followed him out into the front yard. Emmett had grabbed the key set as he passed the kitchen counter on his way out the side screen door. He wasn't staying here, he needed to get out — get away from these two while they continued to play up this fantasy honeymoon.

He jabbed the key into the ignition, face stern and unrelenting as Billy leaned his hands on the windows slit. A cool breeze flowed in, scattering the scent his cologne.

"Hey." Billy reached his hand through grabbing ahold of Emmett's. "Your face is all over the news right now. Don't be stupid."

"You're a liar." Emmett spit, jerking his hand out of his ex-lovers grip throwing the car into reverse, shredding up dirt.

The nearby town was tiny. It was one of those one street lights, kind of towns. One gas station, one mini-mart, a town office and library, all sitting at one intersection.

In the parking lot of the mini-mart Emmett leaned over the passenger side unlocking the glove box. He fished through napkins and papers until pulling out a collapsed baseball cap. It was simply a black, 'one size fits all' type that didn't have a gender attached. Pulling it over his short clipped brunette hair, he adjusted the visor front down low.

He was being stupid — but didn't care.

Dressed in a simple blue plaid shirt and a pair of jeans, Emmett fitted right in with this town. Men wore flannel and tan work boots, grease seemed to be smeared on their jeans. These small town folk were simplistic.

Walking down the isles his hands lingered on boxes here and there trying to portray a shopper while it was his eyes that were scanning the figures. A woman stood in this same isle. She was tall, lean and stood out in her brightly colored v-neck. Face covered in makeup and curled hair, clearly dyed as it reminded him of that Disney mermaid cartoon.

Yet, Emmett smiled at her. He was good looking, or so he thought. The woman's eyebrows furrowed slightly, her eyes saying it all. She thought he was a creep. So much so, that she fled the isle. Or maybe she just had that little voice inside her head that screamed, "He's a psycho!"

Filling his cheeks with air he looked around awkwardly, it was probably both. Maybe Billy was right, he should have just stayed home, clung to back roads ... never started following that twisted blonde.

"What? We can't pretend to be gay — we're straight." Emmett argued looking to both of his companions. They were nestled up in an attic of an old abandoned house with paintings and words scribbled across its frail wooden walls.

Maggie leaned her elbows along the back of the faded couch tilting her head questioningly. "And what am I going to tell Katherine? She found two losers who couldn't pull off a simple task?"

Billy stood, his fourth beer, dangled limply in his hand. He stared at Emmett then to Maggie, then back again. He looked at the brunettes unruly hair and dark sweatshirt and uncomfortable demeanor. I can do this, Billy thought lifting the beer, chugging the last of its contents.

"Ok. Ok. Let's do this."

Emmett moved on the couch as the other boy fell into the seat beside him. Maggie was watching every movement with fascination. "Well, kiss," she urged.

They stared at each other, hesitantly moving forward. Emmett tried to tilt his head opposite of Billy's. It wasn't working well. Billy smiled, mumbling that it was ok. Nose to nose Emmett could feel hot breath against his lips, but froze.

Billy felt his girlfriends criticising stare. She was judging him — this was all a big test. This was what Katherine wanted, it was her words, her plans. She made him a part of this family and led him to Maggie. Taking in a sharp breath he leapt forward closing those precious inches, pressing his lips onto Emmett's.

He was tense and stiff, but didn't pull away. They sat there, lips locked for five long seconds, until Billy pulled back grinning, letting out a laugh. He was on the edge of being drunk, but Maggie smiled in delight and Emmett felt something flutter.

A clicking sound brought Emmett out of his internal misery. The persistent sound came from the next isle over. He stepped into it noticing the temperature difference. One whole wall was lined with glass fogged doors, with beverages to food sitting behind them.

At the very end a woman, who appeared to be Asian, was handling a price gun. She was tiny with hair falling around her face, it was hard to say her age. Looking from the coolers to the girl his eyes found her small white name-tag pinned to her gray shirt. It read, Megan. Such a common name.

Clearing his throat, he approached with a small friendly smile and she kindly smiled back. "Excuse me, Megan? Where would I find the wine?" Didn't all women like some form of wine?

Megan looked up to his tall figure, her hand tucking back fallen strands revealing her very young face. A high school graduate or in first years of college — she was almost perfect. Her voice sounded innocence, and her dimples were visible.

"Oh, I'm sorry sir, we don't sell wine. All we have is beer. That's the law."

An easy smile came to him and it made Megan smile again. "Well, I really wanted wine." He turned to the fogged glass door next to him where a little card taped to the outside read, beer. Reaching into the cooler he pulled out two six-packs. One in a red case, the other green. Emmett held up the two cases asking the girl, "So, uh, red or white?"

She giggled, lifting her shoulders in a small shrug before pointing toward his right hand, "Let's go with the red."

"And, uh, what time do you get off?"

Summer nights were cool and Megan's hot heavy breathing shed small clouds into the air. Perched on the hood of his car, Emmett's mouth feverishly attacked her throat, then her lips when her hands guided his face upward.

She was a great kisser, he had to admit — but it was different. Maybe the shape? Maybe the lip gloss? Maybe because she wasn't ...

"Hey, I need a breather." She gasped out, her hand pressing against his chest. "And more wine."

He chuckled, pushing himself away from her body leaning down to collect one of the last beers. The top snapped off and he handed it to her, running his other through his hair.

The bottles opening disappeared between her lips as she took a large gulp. Propped up on her elbows she watched him carefully. "We're not having sex, ok? Let's just take that off the table."

Emmett nodded nonchalantly, "Ok."

He leaned back into her seeking out those flavored lips again. It was sort of disgusting — not to mention harder for him to forget that she wasn't Billy. So he tried harder. His hands squeezed his way up her torso, finding their way to cradling her neck.

First his hands were behind her head, keeping her close, until his thumb slipped to front. Then his fingers curled and they began to squeeze.

Megan started to struggle feeling the uncomfortable pressure, shoving him off. "Ow, that hurts! Were you just choking me?"

Wiping his palms down his chest Emmett shook his head attempting to keep this normal, "No. No. Of course not. Just didn't know if you were, uh, into that...."

She slid off the hood grabbing her sweater. "We should get going. It's getting late."

"But—"

"I need to get home."

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Ok. Wait let me get the door for you." Emmett jogged around the car as Megan shrugged her arms through the pink sweater. The offer made her smile at least and it probably would be the last time she ever would.

His hands were in her hair and he slammed her head into the passenger window. One time. Two times. Three times. Four — cracks spread into a vast web. Splintered glass shards protruded from her face. Emmett carelessly discarded her to the ground, his chest heaving.

He was going to make this work.