Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
“You think my feelings are somehow contrived because of how screwed up my memory is?” Rhys stepped toward him, but Emerson couldn’t handle the closeness, not right then, so he shrunk back against the fridge. Rhys’s face fell, but he stayed put, a safe distance away from him. “You couldn’t tell how much I wanted you?”
“I don’t fucking know, okay? It was only after Audrey told you what happened that you kissed me again.”
“Again?” His eyes pinned Emerson in place. “I initiated the kiss last time too?”
“Yeah.” He dipped his head. He was absolutely the chickenshit in this scenario, wasn’t he? Always cautious and unsure and afraid of everything being fucked up. Except when it came to his feelings about his best friend.
They stared at each other across the space between them, which felt like a wide chasm that couldn’t be bridged. At least not yet.
“I can’t take it if I lose—” You. I can’t fucking lose you. Don’t you get it, Rhys? Emerson paused and took a breath. “I just need some space right now and…time.”
“Sure. Fine.” Rhys’s lip curled as if he were about to say something else. Maybe an echo of past arguments they’d had about Emerson being too uptight or super stubborn. “Take all the fucking time you need.”
He strode past him toward the front door. Just like last time, he was gonna fuckin’ bail on him. And what? Go sleep on his couch across the street? Or call a friend to meet him for a beer?
Emerson held his breath as he watched Rhys grip the door handle, then stand perfectly still, like maybe it had all clicked in place for him too. That he was gonna leave. Again. Rhys braced his head against the door, breathing heavily, before turning and heading in the opposite direction, to his room.
Emerson grew motionless for another long minute, and somehow the silence accentuated the fear. He was so fucked in the head.
Part of him hoped Rhys would return and give him a piece of his mind, convince him he was wrong. Instead, he gave him exactly what he’d asked for. His space.
So Emerson trudged upstairs to his room and let the tears fall against his pillow until he exhausted himself enough to fall into a restless sleep.
25
Rhys
“Have a good night.” Rhys smiled as he cashed out his last customer, feeling for perhaps the first time like maybe it’d been a productive day. He was getting more familiar with the merchandise, sometimes showing up early to acquaint himself with the sales displays out on the floor. His extra effort had helped him assist customers better, which was the one thing he had going for him pre-accident. He had regulars who would seek him out, and other staff would look to him as an expert on certain things, like the perfect hiking shoes or snowboarding gear.
Which reminded him.
He walked over to the large wall with all the sneakers and boots, categorized by sport, wondering if Emerson would mind if he purchased hiking shoes for Audrey, or at least a better pair for walking. They’d gone out nightly when the weather held up and planned to try a couple of park trails since the height of the autumn season was right around the corner.
Except it’d been an awkward week with Emerson as they tiptoed around each other since their talk. He was all stoic and stubborn as hell, and Rhys got it—Emerson was hurt and confused, but mostly scared. If he knew one thing about his best friend, though, it was that he always needed to work through things on his own timeline.
But Rhys was pissed too. And frustrated as shit. Most of all, he missed him. Fucking ached for him.
He didn’t know when—if—Emerson would ever come around or let him touch him again in an intimate way, so they’d all be better off when the bathroom remodel was finally finished in a couple of weeks, and he could move back across the street, and things could return to how they’d always been.
He supposed he could’ve moved back now on principle alone and slept on the couch. It was what he’d planned the night of their argument until he realized it was the exact thing Emerson said he’d done before. The thing that’d killed him. And he couldn’t do that again.
He’d bailed on him? How was that possible? Had he been overwhelmed, or had Emerson jumped to conclusions?
Because he couldn’t imagine not feeling for his best friend what he did right now. No fucking way.
He’d be lying if he didn’t admit he stayed put because there was a part of him that hoped Emerson would eventually seek him out so they could come to some sort of understanding.
Not that Emerson was ignoring him—well, mostly. As any skilled parent, he was good at pretending everything was cool in front of the kids. But if they happened to end up beside each other on the couch during a movie, thighs brushing, with Emerson shivering? At least he knew Emerson was still affected by him, and that was enough to make him stay. Besides, he wasn’t ready to get adjusted again to the loneliness across the street, something he used to cover up with hookups, work, and lots of plans after his mom had left the state. And it had worked out fine. Until it didn’t. He used to imagine being part of the Rose family when he was a kid, so this little taste of a future with them was sure to wreck him.