Free Never Wake by Gabrielle Goldsby Page A

speak to her for fear she would harm herself. Troy would have had to have been desperate to have sat on that sidewalk for two days straight in the hopes that Emma would talk to her.
    Tears dropped down Emma’s cheeks. She was surprised at how hurt she felt. Not so much for herself. She had been alone for a long time. If anything, she felt less afraid right now than she had in two years. Her hurt was for Troy and the utter loneliness that she must feel to consider killing herself.
    “Please, don’t do it,” she whispered. The knock on the door startled Emma so much that if she hadn’t been sitting she was sure she would have fallen on the floor. She stood, her hand reached for and found the cane, but she didn’t make a move toward the door. Her leg ached, and even though she was expecting it, she still jumped when the knock came again.
    “It’s me. Troy.”
    Emma looked down at the blue jeans and white tank top she was wearing and then back at the door. Her hand went to her hair. She could feel Troy now. There was uncertainty, and, yes, that under-layer of sadness.
    “You pushed the buzzer, so I figured it was okay to come up.” Troy’s voice sounded different now that she didn’t have to raise it to be heard. Emma limped to the door, and she got the sense of someone holding her breath. Was it Troy? No, it was her. Maybe it was both of them. She slid the first latch back and then the second, followed by the lock on the knob. She stared at the door. Should she tell her to come in? Would she try the knob herself? She had to have heard her take the lock off. Emma gripped hard on her cane and felt more tears prickle her eyes. Why was this so damn hard? It’s because you’re tired and hungry. No, it’s something else and you know it . Emma turned the knob and pulled the door open. Her heart slammed against her chest the whole time.
    Troy was wearing a pair of fitted tan pants with pockets on the sides, shoes with no socks, and a thin, tight t-shirt. The strap of her bag cut across her torso, pressing the formfitting t-shirt even closer to her skin. Emma blushed as her eyes went once, twice, and then a third time to Troy’s nipples. Could I behave any more inappropriately?
    She watched as Troy took in her bare feet, the cane, and then rested on her eyes with so much honest curiosity that Emma had to look away. Her gaze landed on Troy’s bare midriff and then skittered away to somewhere safe.
    “Emma,” she mumbled.
    “You’re a what?” Troy looked confused and Emma would have laughed in other circumstances. Instead, she shook her head and looked anywhere but at Troy’s upper body. Good going, Emma. You ask the girl up, you ogle her chest, and then you act like you don’t have control of your tongue. Feet were a good place she decided, and settled on Troy’s shoes. I’ve never seen any quite like that. They must help her pedal faster or something. Of course with calves like that—.
    “No,” Emma said out loud. She made herself meet Troy’s eyes and was surprised by the compassion she saw there. She thinks something’s wrong with me. “I was trying to tell you my name. It’s Emma.”
    “Emma,” Troy said and slanted her head to the side as if deciding whether she would allow Emma to keep her name. “You look like an Emma.”
    “Uh, thanks…I think.”
    Troy grinned. “You’re welcome.”
    “You look like a Troy, too.”
    “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    “Can I come in?” Troy tried to look beyond Emma into the condo.
    “No.”
    Emma expected her to look angry or at least surprised. Instead, Troy threw her head back and laughed. She held the bike as if it were a toy. Her bicep bulged, but didn’t look the least bit taxed. Emma wondered why she had carried the bike up at all. According to her, there was no one awake to steal her bike. In Emma’s opinion, it was doubtful anyone would have tried to steal the bike even before Portland fell asleep.
    “Do you always make your visitors