Chapter Ten
Mason
Hours later, my head ached as I used the nail gun to secure shingles into place, most likely from the loud pop of the gun.
As I made my way across the damaged section of roof I was repairing, I realized I was low on nails.
The idea of climbing back down to grab a fresh box made me a little nauseous.
I wiped the sweat from my forehead and groaned as I sat down.
“Hey, Em?” I waited a moment, not sure if he heard me, before calling louder. “Em?”
Emery stuck his head out of the front door. “Yeah? Wait, where are you?” For a moment, he peered up at the roof, a look of confusion on his face.
“I’m over here.” When he spotted me, his features relaxed into a smile that made my heart pick up pace, thudding in my chest. I took a deep breath to center myself. “Can you grab that box of nails and bring it up?”
As he looked around his brow furrowed. When he spotted his target, his eyes lit up and he glanced up at me. “This one?”
“Yes, please.”
“Sure thing.” A moment later, Emery was climbing the ladder, box of nails in hand. “You doing okay?” He sank down to sit next to me, placing the nails between us.
“I’m great.” I closed my eyes for a moment, my head spinning a little. “Delightful.” I grabbed the nail gun and the box Emery had brought me so I could reload. Once that was done, I rose to my feet. As I did, my head spun harder, the ache getting worse. I groaned and closed my eyes.
Emery put a hand on the back of my calf. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Peachy,” I muttered. “It’s just my head. The noise is giving me a splitting headache.”
He hummed and released my calf. A moment later, he was standing next to me, his hand on my back. “Why don’t you sit back down?”
I bent, putting my hands on my knees, a groan escaping my throat. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a sec.”
“Come on. Sit down. You’re not helping anyone by working on a roof if you feel like you’re going to pass out.”
“I’m not going to—” I started to protest, but a wave of nausea hit me and I had to clench my jaw to keep my breakfast down. Once it passed, I exhaled slowly through my nose. “Fine.”
Emery kept a hand on me as I sank down. “Tell me your symptoms.”
“I don’t have any symptoms.”
“Bullshit. You’ve got a headache. What else? Nausea, I bet. Are you dizzy?”
Defeated, I nodded.
“Anything else? You’re sweating hard.”
“It’s literally hotter than hell up here,” I pointed out. “Of course I’m sweating.”
Emery pushed my shoulder gently. “Lie down for a minute. See if the dizziness passes.”
I groaned and lay back against the roofing felt, where I hadn’t managed to put shingles yet. Eyes closed, I covered my face with my hands to block out some of the sun. “Shit,” I mumbled.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Emery let out a soft sigh and brushed hair from my forehead.
Even though I felt like I was dying, it sent butterflies fluttering through me, my breath hitching.
We were both quiet for a long time as I took slow, deep breaths, trying to get my head to stop spinning.
After a while, Emery cleared his throat.
“Do you think you can climb down? We need to get you somewhere cooler.”
I nodded and eased myself into a sitting position. Another wave of nausea. Another clench of my jaw to make sure the contents of my stomach stayed where they belonged. “You go first.” I bent my legs and put my head between my knees as I waited for Emery to make it to the ground.
A few moments later, the rattle of the ladder ceased. “Alright, I’m down,” he called.
Opening my eyes, I eased toward the ladder and the edge of the roof, breathing deep. I took the ladder slowly, one rung at a time, pausing when the dizziness got to be too much. It felt like an eternity, but eventually I made it to the ground where Emery immediately wrapped his arms around me.
“Let’s get you inside.” He released me and put a hand on my back, guiding me inside gently. “I think you have heat exhaustion.”
I felt like a damn fool letting myself get sick, but I was grateful to Emery for looking out for me.
Putting one foot in front of the other, we made it into the house, where a wave of cool air blasted me.
I shivered immediately as my body adjusted to the temperature difference. “I should take a shower.”
“You sure you’re able to stand up that long? Or do you want to lie down first?”
I shook my head. “Shower.”
“If you insist.” He followed me to the bathroom, turned the water on, and took a seat on the toilet lid.
“What are you doing?”
Emery shrugged. “I’m going to stay here and make sure you don’t pass out in the shower.”
I smirked, dizziness slowly receding. “Want to join me?”
A snort escaped him as he shook his head. “No. Well, I mean, yes, but no. Not this time. You’re sick. Now’s not the time to fool around in the shower.”
“Fine, fine,” I muttered. “Have it your way.” With my back turned to him, I tugged my shirt off and dropped it to the floor before tugging my shoes and socks off and stepping out of my shorts.
A moment later, I stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain closed behind me.
As the cool water hit my shoulders and back, I let out a guttural sound from deep in my chest. It felt so, so good to cool down a little.
I turned to face the water so that the spray ran down the back of my head and neck, pressed my hands to the shower wall, and took slow, deep breaths to settle my racing heartbeat.
I didn’t know how long I stood there, but eventually my body began to feel a little more normal. I soaped up and rinsed, washed the sweat from my hair and the dirt from my face, and sighed in relief.
“That good, huh?” Emery’s voice startled me. I’d somehow forgotten he was in the bathroom, making sure I didn’t die in the shower or something.
With a weak chuckle, I turned off the water. “It really is.”
Emery pushed the curtain open slightly and handed me a towel.
“Come on,” I teased, thinking about the other day. “You don’t want to take another peek?”
“Maybe next time. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Is that a proposition?”
He let out a startled laugh. “No, it’s an instruction. You need to rest.”
“I’m fine,” I protested.
“You’re not. Now, go lie down.”
I pushed the curtain open, towel wrapped around my waist, water dripping onto my shoulders and running down my back thanks to my still-damp hair. “I feel better.”
“Good. Now, bed.”
“You’re not going to join me?”
He smiled softly and tilted his head toward the bedroom. “As much as I’d like that, no.”
“Why not?”
“Mason,” he chastised. “You need to rest. You almost got heat stroke up there. You need to take some time to recover. What you don’t need right now is to fool around with your boyfriend.
” The moment the word was out of his mouth, his eyes widened and he put his hand over his mouth. “I’m sorry. That’s not—”
I chuckled and shook my head. “Nope. Too late. The cat’s out of the bag now.
You want me to be your boyfriend.” I said it with a teasing, singsong tone, but the thought made my heartbeat pick up again, my chest tight, butterflies in my stomach, the whole nine yards.
I hadn’t thought much about putting a label on what we were doing, but the more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea.
It felt… right, somehow. It made me nervous, maybe, but not bad-nervous.
More like first day of school nervous—standing on the edge of something that might be exciting.
The idea that Emery liked it and that he felt good about what we were doing was enough to make me happy.
Emery rolled his eyes. “Get to bed before I kick your ass.”
I sighed and went into the bedroom, climbing naked under the covers and tossing the towel aside.
“What am I, your housekeeper?” He scoffed as he bent to pick up the towel.
“No, apparently you’re my boyfriend,” I murmured, softer this time, my heart squeezing in my chest.
“Shut up and take a nap.” Emery went back to the bathroom and emerged with my dirty clothes. “Good night,” he said in a soft, singsong tone, and he closed the bedroom door behind him as he left me alone.
As I lay there, waiting for sleep to take me, I turned the word over and over in my mind. Boyfriend. Was that what I wanted? I wasn’t entirely sure what I wanted, but what I knew was that the thought of calling Emery my boyfriend—mine—made my heart race.