Chapter 15
After a nap and a shower, Emerson picked up a couple of subs from his favorite deli near Rand’s house.
He probably should’ve called his brother before showing up, but that would’ve given him a chance to say no.
After parking his pick-up on the street, he ambled up to the small, neat house.
He stared at the door, wondering what Randall’s reaction would be—and if he should even go through with his plan.
Maybe coming clean to the years of lies and half-truths would improve things between them.
Remembering Randall’s face last night, he knew that was likely a pipe dream. Either way, he was tired of the lies. Emerson took a deep, cleansing breath and stretched the muscles of his neck and shoulders before he finally got brave enough to knock.
Silence met him.
He glanced in the drive and assumed his brother was home, so he knocked again. Rand answered the door a few seconds later, looking utterly exhausted.
He glowered at Emerson.
Emerson wasn’t sure how to take that look.
“I brought lunch,” Emerson said, trying to keep his tone light. He lifted the bag into view.
His brother narrowed his eyes even more.
“Best subs in the province,” Emerson said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Come in,” Randall grumbled, backing up a few steps.
Emerson wasn’t sure he should. After one of Randall’s brows rose, he walked through the small house to the back and laid the bag on the tiny kitchen island. He moved to the fridge and popped it open, checking out the drink options. “What do you want to drink with it?”
“Whatever,” his brother answered, his tone colder than the inside of the fridge.
Emerson tensed. He grabbed a couple of bottles of ginger ale and walked them to the island.
He set one in front of Randall and himself before fishing out the subs in silence.
Neither spoke as they opened them. The awkward tension grew by the second.
Before biting into the sandwich, Randall erupted, tossing it down to the island.
“You were supposed to text me last night!”
Emerson cringed. He’d forgotten. His only focus had been Dash—and getting the man in his bed. “I’m sorry. I had my hands full last night.”
“Hands full of Dashiell Keller?”
Emerson’s gaze flew to Randall’s, but he didn’t answer.
Randall growled. “Right after I got back to the station this morning, there was a call over the radio. They’d found a dead alpha a few blocks from the Dragon.”
Emerson frowned. “Who was it?”
“I worried it was you,” Randall snapped. “My shift was over, but I carried my ass back out there,… and…” Randall clenched his jaw. “From a distance, it looked like it was you. I thought I was going to have to tell our family that you were gone.”
“I’m so sorry,” Emerson said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“One text would’ve prevented all that.”
“You’re right,” Emerson said.
“Damned right I’m right,” Randall barked. “Luckily, it wasn’t you, but when you didn’t pick up when I called, I could’ve killed you myself. I’d finally gotten to bed and here you come knocking on my door with hoagies instead of an apology.”
“Sorry,” Emerson repeated.
“Do you give a rat’s ass about anyone but yourself, Em?”
“Of course I do!”
“It sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it!” Randall growled.
They stared at one another, an emotional thunderstorm churning between them. There was so much Emerson wanted to say but feared saying, especially now given Randall’s anger. Did he add fuel to that fire or just wait for a better moment?
When was there ever a better moment, though? His life was a series of lies and excuses.
“I broke the law for you last night and you couldn’t give me the common courtesy of leaving a text message so I knew you were safe?”
“You’re right. I should have.” Emerson grimaced. “It wasn’t fair after all you did. I should’ve reached out and told you all was well.”
“It’s not like this is the first time you’ve done something like this, Em. You say you’ll be somewhere and show up late, if you show at all, then you end up leaving early, too. It’s almost like you don’t want to be around me.”
“Of course I want you around.” Emerson lowered his head. “I’m sorry I’ve made you feel like I don’t.”
“Saying you’re sorry doesn’t do shit. If you want to be there, prove it,” Randall snapped. “Do better.”
“Okay,” Emerson said. “I will. I came today to thank you, if that counts for anything?”
Randall glared, hurt etched into the features of his face.
“I know I’ve kept you at arm’s length… all of you… for a reason.”
Randall’s brows furrowed.
“So… you wouldn’t see.”
“See what?”
“See me,” Emerson said. “The real me. I didn’t want you all to have too much time to… see things you shouldn’t.”
Randall’s expression hardened. “You really are an asshole.”
“An asshole?”
“Get out,” Randall said, shoving the hoagie and paper it was wrapped in away from him. “I don’t feel like doing this right now.”
“Rand…”
“Get out!” Rand barked.
Emerson sighed. If he stayed, he’d just be banging his head against an exhausted brick wall. He walked towards the door, but stopped at it, remembering his promise. “Can I ask if you plan to turn either Dash or me in?”
“So now I know the real reason you came over,” Randall snapped. “To make sure your ass was covered.”
“I don’t care about me. Just tell me Dash is safe and I’ll go.”
“Dash is safe.” Randall glared. “You? I’m not so sure.”
Emerson cringed.
“Now get out.”
Emerson flew through the front door, slamming it on his way out. As soon as there was a door between them, he stopped on the porch, his knees weak. He dragged in a breath, his lungs burning. That hadn’t gone anywhere near as well as he’d hoped.
If nothing else, he knew Dash would be okay.
That was better than nothing.
While deep down he sensed he would be, too, he couldn’t be sure anymore.
He’d hoped Randall might be able to accept him, but that clearly wasn’t going to be the case.
He fought back tears as he walked down the couple of steps to the sidewalk.
After he climbed into his truck, he clenched the wheel and thought back to his comments the night before with Dash.
How relieved he’d feel if his family knew the truth.
He wasn’t feeling very relieved.
Emerson sat there a couple of minutes, fighting off the need to throw up. His cell rang and for a second, he wondered if it might be Randall. Instead, he saw his Papa’s number flashed on the screen. After a deep breath, he took the call and forced a smile onto his lips.
“Hey, Papa.”
“Hey, Darling,” Morgan Walker said. “I’ve got bad news.”
Emerson tensed. He didn’t have room for any more bad news. “Yeah? What’s that?”
“Do you remember our old neighbors, the Brightons?”
Emerson leaned back on the headrest. This was going to be one of his papa’s longwinded stories, he feared. “Yeah.”
“Your father and I ran into them this morning. They’re here visiting, and their plans for tomorrow evening fell through. They asked if we’d care to join them for dinner.”
“Okay… how is that bad news?” Emerson asked.
“Tomorrow is family dinner.”
“Right, right,” Emerson muttered.
“You were coming, weren’t you?”
“Of course, I was,” Emerson fibbed. “You know, I get yelled at when I have plans that fall on family dinner night. Do we get to fuss at you now?”
“The next time you don’t come to dinner, I won’t yell. But you only get the one.”
Emerson chuckled. He glanced at Randall’s house, realizing it was likely for the best that there was no family night. The two of them needed time to cool off before they had to be in the same room as one another. And even then it might not be good.
“Okay, I’ll save it for a special occasion.”
“You do that,” Morgan said. “Are you doing okay? You don’t sound like your normal self.”
Emerson fought another wave of emotion. He forced another smile to hide what was really going on. “I’m doing as well as I can. You okay?”
“I’m great,” his papa said. “You sound tired. Go get some rest. No partying tonight, okay?”
“Nope. No partying tonight.”
“Does that mean you’ll be staying here at home tonight?”
Emerson winced. Before moving to Investigations, he’d occasionally stayed in his childhood bedroom a night or two to throw them off his scent of the boat—claiming he was in between omegas at the time.
That lie was becoming increasingly harder to tell since he no longer slept half his nights at the fire station.
“No… I’m… hanging with a friend tonight. ”
“A friend? Have I met this friend?”
“Nope,” Emerson said.
“I don’t know why I even asked. I’ve never met any of your omega friends,” his papa said before sighing. “Maybe one day you’ll settle down like Harrison.”
Emerson pulled the phone from his ear and fought a growl before returning it. “Papa, you know I’m not like Harrison.”
His twin was the responsible mate of two omegas. He’d been built for settling down.
“Yes, you are. You just haven’t found the right omega yet, sweetheart. I’ve got a sixth sense about these things. As soon as I saw Harrison was settled, something told me you were next.”
Emerson scrubbed his face with one hand. “You might want to turn your attention to Luke. I’m not on the market.”
His papa scented blood in the water. Hopefully Lucas wouldn’t find out it was him that had added it. “Have you heard something? Is Luke seeing someone?”
“Not that I know of, but he’s a better bet for settling down than I am.”
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” his papa said. “You’re a catch, Emerson. You just need to… calm down and grow up a little.”
Emerson shook his head. “Sure thing, Papa.”
“Sorry. I didn’t call you to nag,” his papa said. “I’m just worried about you. Aren’t you lonely? You seem lonely to me.”
“I’m not lonely.” He closed his eyes and let a familiar lie roll off his tongue. “I have plenty of omegas to keep me company.”
“But no one to keep and hold tight,” his papa said.