Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73174 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“Damn right,” I chimed in.
It was our turn to do karaoke next, and as we sang “Bad Reputation,” we turned the brewery into a party within about three minutes flat. We jumped around and danced as we sang, and even for me it was a good little cardio workout.
“Emmett,” I said, breathing heavy afterward as we stepped away to a round of riotous applause. “I didn’t know you had it in you. You’re not just a singer, you’re a belter. Or a crooner.”
“I’ll croon a song for you anytime,” he said in a velvety voice. “Join me on the back deck for a breather? I’m overheating like hell in these clothes.”
I laughed. “Naturally. Let’s go.”
He grabbed my hand and we told the others we’d be back soon. The chilly air hit us as we stepped onto the back deck, but the ambient warmth from the heaters on the patio kept it refreshing instead of frigid.
We leaned over the deck railing under the twinkle lights, looking out at the grassy back area of the bar, surrounded by pine trees. The air smelled like pine and mulch in the best possible way, all with the faint scent of fresh beer and cider coming from inside.
I leaned the side of my body against Emmett’s.
“You did it,” I told Emmett. “You made me like fall.”
“I thought you were going to say that I made you like men,” he said with a grin.
“That too,” I clarified. “Definitely that too.”
We laughed, leaning in to kiss each other.
For so much of my life, I’d been in a fight.
Whether it was a mental fight, a physical one, or the invisible battle I’d had with myself for my whole life, clawing my way toward any sense of belonging I could feel.
I realized now that with Emmett, I’d fought so hard and instead of one of us being victorious, we’d both just won.
Like I’d finally done something right in my life other than football.
I swallowed past a slight tight feeling in my throat, reaching out and feeling for Emmett’s hand. I laced my fingers through his, squeezing it tight.
“Thanks for taking a chance on me,” I told him, surprised by how much I meant it.
He looked over at me in the low glow, leaning closer toward me. “And thank you for sticking it out with me, too,” he said quietly. “We never should have ended up together, but I meant it when I said it’s one of the best things that have ever happened to me.”
I think I could love you, I thought silently as I looked into his eyes, so moved by all of this. Really love you.
Deep down, I was pretty sure I might already be on that path.
But we were just at the beginning. And I couldn’t fucking wait to see what more he would surprise me with.
I leaned in and crushed my lips to his, afraid that I’d let the three-word phrase slip out of my mouth if I didn’t shut myself up quickly.
“God, you smell so good,” I murmured against his lips. “Taste so good.”
“All for you.”
“You starting to cool down, now?”
“Yes. Gloriously,” he said. He shifted on his feet. “But I’m not ready to go back inside just yet.”
I could tell there was something on his mind, but I didn’t know what, yet. I gave him a couple of minutes, and a few times he looked like he was about to say something, but didn’t.”
“What’s cookin’ in there, Emmett?” I asked.
He met my eyes, shaking his head. “Well, I’m starting to get the urge to share one of my dad’s favorite quotes.”
“Share away,” I said. “I love everything you share from your dad.”
He smiled softly. “You do?”
“Of course,” I said. “He seemed like such a good man, and I only know one percent of what I hope to know about him one day.”
Emmett gave me a little nod. “Well, I don’t want you to think the quote necessarily had direct application to us.”
I cocked my head to one side. “Why’s that?”
He bit his lip. “Well, because there are some things that I’m not sure if you’re ready for yet.”
“I’m intrigued. Let’s hear this.”
Emmett pulled in a long breath. “Fuck it. One of the things he used to love quoting, from a poet named Galway Kinnell, was something about… love.”
Oh.
Oh.
My heart did a little flip in my chest.
So that’s why Emmett was being a bit squirmy about mentioning it. Because that word was floating around in his mind, too? And because he also thought it was too soon to say it, but maybe not too soon to know it was a possibility?
“I really want to hear it now,” I said.
His eyes twinkled. “The self is the least of it. Let our scars fall in love.”
It was simple, and it was so perfect.
“Our scars,” I said softly, reaching out to squeeze Emmett’s waist.