Chapter 8 Emmett
Chapter eight
Emmett
"Ican walk, Emmett." Piper sighs in exasperation as I carry her up the front steps of my porch, but I refuse to put her down even for a second.
She told me to drop her off at The Hollywood on the way home.
Like I'm ever letting her out of my sight again.
I ignored her until we were already well past the turnoff, and she finally gave up trying to convince me to go back.
Her friends had to check out hours ago, but I don't mention this fact.
Piper's exhausted and what she needs is rest and less stress. Doctor's orders.
When we get through the front door, I lower her to her feet in my front entryway and drop to my knees.
She sucks in a sharp breath, but I rest my head against her stomach and wrap my arms around her curvy ass to pull her closer.
Immediately, Piper's arms wrap around my head, holding me as she strokes my hair.
I've never been so scared in my life as I was when I found her lying on the floor this morning. To find out that she’s been dealing with this for years, and that what I saw this morning is better than it has been, is unfathomable.
I want to buy her brother-in-law a new car or a puppy for getting her help, but apparently, he's a billionaire, so I'm probably better off with a handshake and a lifetime of gratitude.
I squeeze Piper gently, then pull back and reach for her shoe. She stands there, pausing uncertainly until I tap her foot and look up at her.
"Emmett..."
I set my jaw. I can out-stubborn her for days if I have to.
She finally rolls her eyes and gives me a tired smile.
Resting her hands on my shoulders, she lifts her foot.
I untie her shoe, rubbing her shin and ankle until she lets out a little moan of pleasure.
I do the same to the other foot. By the time I'm done massaging her, she lets me pick her up without a single word of protest.
I carry her to the couch, nestling her against the pillows as I lay her down gently.
“Emmett—” Piper tries again.
I sit on the couch next to her, grip her hand in mine, and look into her big blue eyes. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
She takes a deep breath. “I-I have chronic Lyme disease, which my doctors think may have triggered other autoimmune issues in my body. I’ve been living with my sister for six years because I needed a caregiver when things like this happen.”
“I know. The doctor explained it at the hospital,” I say.
She furrows her brow in confusion. “He did?”
“They assumed I was your husband, and I didn’t correct them, so I was privy to your medical information.”
The worry on her face is palpable. "I’m never going to be one hundred percent better. I don't know what my future holds with my illness, and it's a lot for anyone to take on. I'm not holding you to anything you said last night."
“I meant every word, Piper.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. She looks uncertain. “After everything I’ve told you… you’re still here?”
“I’m still here,” I confirm softly, squeezing her hand. “I’m not going anywhere, Piper. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. Not because things get messy or complicated or scary.”
Her throat bobs. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” I cut in gently. “There’s a difference.” I shift closer, keeping my voice steady even though my chest feels too tight. “What happened this morning? That terrified me. But not because it was inconvenient or hard. It scared me because I thought I might lose you.”
She looks away, blinking fast.
I tip my forehead against hers. “You are not a burden. You’re not broken. And you don’t need to apologize for surviving something your body didn’t ask for.”
Her fingers curl into my shirt like she needs proof I’m solid.
“I don’t care what label the doctors give it,” I continue. “Chronic. Autoimmune. Complicated. All that tells me is that you’ve been strong for a long time, mostly on your own. You don’t have to do that now.”
A tear slips down her cheek, and I brush it away with my thumb.
“You’re safe,” I murmur. “You’re here. I’ve got you. We’ll figure the rest out together—at your pace.”
She exhales, long and shaky, and finally nods. “Thank you. For being here.”
I nod. “Always.”
Piper covers her mouth as she stifles a huge yawn. “This couch is huge.” She snuggles down, looking up at me through heavy lashes, those big blue eyes still managing to undo me completely.
I sit next to her, the deep seat of the sofa giving me plenty of room without crowding her.
"This was the first piece of furniture I ever bought. I tend to fall asleep out here, and I was still using a hand-me-down futon when I moved to Duhring Park. My back was a mess." I trace the soft skin of her cheek with my finger, and her eyes flutter closed. "You tired?"
"No." She grimaces when I raise my eyebrows. "Yes, I'm tired, but no, I don't want to sleep."
I nod. "I would’ve put you in the bedroom, but I don't have a TV in there. Can I make you some tea?" Pretty sure I have tea from the last time my sister visited.
"No, thank you. Will you lie with me?" Piper asks shyly, looking up at me through her lashes. "Only if you want to," she adds hurriedly, but I'm already kicking off my boots and pulling my sweatshirt over my head.
Her cheeks redden as her gaze flits over my chest.
I crawl on top of her, keeping my weight on my elbows as I kiss her forehead. "I never want to leave your side again, Piper."
I kiss her softly on the lips, and she kisses me back. This one is sweet and gentle. Different from the ones we shared last night, but somehow far more intimate.
Want curls low in my belly—quiet, steady, and unmistakable. She’s beautiful even like this. Especially like this. Tired, vulnerable, and real.
I don’t act on it, but I’m grounded by the simple truth that wanting her doesn’t disappear because she’s unwell—and caring for her matters more than anything else right now.
I rest my forehead against hers, and kiss her nose before moving behind her and pulling her close. "I'm the big spoon. Always."
She sighs and burrows her perfect ass against my front. I wrap my arm around her, pulling her as close as possible as I will my cock to calm the fuck down.
We’re not on deck today. Piper needs to rest, I remind him.
I reach for the remote, hoping for a distraction.
"Murder shows or love stories?"
"Both," she says.
My phone pings with an incoming text. I plan to ignore it, but a series of pings follows, one after another, so I open the "DP Construction Crew" group chat.
Hayes
Jameson, I need the next two days off work.
Archer
Me too.
Max
Me three.
Jameson
Archer/Max - no. Hayes, everything okay?
Hayes
Yes. I flew to Vegas this morning.
And I’m married.
"What?" I type a response, tipping the phone so Piper can see the conversation, but messages come flying in before I can hit send.
Jameson
On purpose?
Archer
Congrats, man!
Max
Don't worry. Vegas weddings don't count, bud. As long as you didn't sign anything...
Hayes
I signed all the things. She's mine.
"Holy shit," Piper says as Hayes' last text comes through. "You Duhring Park men are a special breed."
I chuckle and kiss her forehead before typing out my response.
Congratulations, Hayes. We'll double with my future wife when you get back in town.
Piper sucks in a breath as she reads my text.
I grimace. I was planning to save the marriage conversation for when she's feeling better. I turn my phone off as a quick succession of pings comes through, refusing to deal with Max right now.
I gaze into Piper's eyes. "We don't have to talk about it today. I don't want to add to your stress, but I meant everything I said last night. I love you, Piper."
She bites her lip, her face crumpling before she kisses me through salty tears.
"Marry me." It slips out – more of a demand than a request.
But Piper says the one little word that changes our lives forever. "Yes."