Chapter 58
Tristen
I came in my fucking shorts. Jesus Christ.
“So good, baby,” I mutter to his sweaty forehead.
“I could feel you against me and fuck, it was hot. So, fucking hot. I don’t think I’ve ever come that fast.” I’m a goddamn chatty Kathy after I come now?
But the words keep tumbling from my shaking lips, my hands swirling over the safe zones on his shoulders, desperate for him to hear how good he is.
That what we just did was more than okay.
“Definitely gonna need to change my shorts after that. Came so much … you sure you’re okay? ”
There’s a hum that I feel more than hear along my chest as Em runs a finger along my jaw, his puffs of breath dancing over my collarbones.
“I like your glasses.”
My heart pounds and my swirling fingers stutter.
“Yeah?”
He nods against me, his featherlight touch running back up my jaw and around my ear.
I shiver, and snort, and don’t bother trying to stop the words that tumble off my tongue.
“I like you.”
A lot, I want to add but I don’t.
Because he freezes on top of me so stiffly and suddenly that I’m not even certain he’s breathing.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anythi—”
“Why?” he blurts out, almost incredulously, but don’t let that stop me either.
“You’re genuine. Kind. Sweet and goddamn sassy as hell—” he scoffs at that, proving my point and I have to hold back my snicker. “And don’t get me started on how attractive—”
“Now I know you’re lying.” He pushes off from me to sit up and I grab his sleeve, stopping him from taking off completely.
“I’m serious, Emmett.”
Those sweet eyes finally lock onto mine.
“But I’m gay and gross.”
My heart sinks.
“No, baby. You’re just gay. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”
The tip of his nose goes red like maybe he’s fighting back more tears, his breath shaking from his pink lips.
“Does it make me gross that I like girls?”
“Kinda,” he says and if he weren’t so panicked, I’d bet he’d smack his lips.
It makes me laugh.
“Okay, okay,” I chuckle out when he rolls his eyes. “But it doesn’t if I like you. If I like guys and girls. Right?”
He huffs like I don’t get it, but I do. I get exactly what he’s saying about himself and I fucking hate that he feels that way.
“No. You’re not gross. Unless you’re drooling all over my head. Then you’re gross.”
“Drooling? Emmett—where are you going? I don’t drool,” I call after him but he’s already up and in the hallway, the crotch of his pants damp. Fuck, that’s hot. “Take it back!”
The snick of what I assume is the bathroom door closing mingles with my laughter as the only response, and I flop back on the shitty mattress. The ceiling stares back at me, its brown spots standing out against the off-white right above his bed.
God, this place is fucking sad.
The longer I lay here beneath the old leaks, the more the rhythmic beep of a monitored heart filters into my consciousness and my smiles fades, the reality of everything crashing down on me with each tone.
It makes it hard to breathe. To think. To hear anything other than that goddamn beep.
He didn’t say he liked me back.
Shaking my head, I swing my legs over the side of the bed, my knees nearly connecting with the knobs on the dresser and I grumble at its closeness.
How the fuck did Emmett grow up in here? With no space to just be … silly. A kid. To play on his own.
What’s going to happen to him if Charline doesn’t make it?
Will he be able to let her go?
I suck back a breath. Push to my feet and attempt to leave that thought right there on the bed.
It’s not up to me.
Emmett could have said no to this trial thing his aunt found, though I’m not quite sure she framed it that way. He’s the living relative. What he says matters.
But there’s also no way to let your mom go when she might have a chance.
I just wish that he’d had a better one.
Lifting my glasses to rub my face, I then make my way into the kitchen for a quick cleanup with some paper towels and a prayer that my shorts dry soon.
“Afternoon, Ten.”
Nearly jumping out of my skin, I end up spraying water all over my stomach, soaking my shirt.
“Jesus fuck, Bobbie. What are you still doing here?” I half growl and dry my hands.
The woman had the audacity to just shrug as the counter’s edge digs into my fingers when I spin to face her smug look.
“She woke up for about thirty seconds.”
My everything goes tight, and my grip digs harder into my fingers.
“Did she say anything?”
The smug glint in Bobbie’s eye fades quickly. “No. Just stared at me like a stranger.”
Her jaw tenses and her nose goes red, just like Emmett’s and I push off from the counter to get closer.
“Maybe she’d be better off,” Bobbie chokes out and I have to swallow back my retort.
“It’s not up to us. Remember?” I rub her biceps, and she finally takes a deep breath before waving me off.
“You’re right. I’m just having a hard time reconciling who’s in the bed now. She’s not the same person I remember.” She’s sniffles and turns away like she’s going back to the living room, only to stop short. “Thank you for not giving up on Emmett. He’s lucky to have you, Tristen.”
If they only knew … that the lucky one is me.