Chapter Fourteen
Emmett
SLEEP HELPED clear his head, and while his body was sore, it wasn’t as bad as yesterday.
Emma had made him stay in bed the whole day, and he’d hated every second of it, but he’d done it because he hated that concerned frown on her forehead more.
She also threatened to tell his brother what happened if he got up, so in the end, it was an easy decision.
He slowly sat up in bed and glanced across the room.
Ezra was asleep, blanket tucked between his legs and his ass hanging out.
He shook his head, a smile spreading on his lips.
He didn’t bother being quiet as he moved around the room.
Ezra had always slept like the dead, and this morning was no different.
He grabbed some clothes and his toiletry bag, then headed to the shared bathroom.
He showered quickly, careful of the bruises marring his skin.
Knowing Wilder had caught him with a hand on the back of his head, keeping both his brain and his CIs safe, made his stomach twist itself into knots.
Most wouldn’t have even thought about it, but Wilder had run across the road, seeing that car coming at them, and had not only thrown him out of the car’s path, but nearly broken his hand to protect his head.
He hadn’t seen Wilder much, confined to his room as he’d been after Emma chased him upstairs, and he was grateful for it.
His mind wasn’t hazy anymore, and he remembered the words they’d shared.
He remembered grabbing Wilder’s hand and Wilder letting him.
He remembered what it felt like to be pressed against Wilder’s chest as he carried him, how good he smelled. He needed to forget all of it.
He washed his face one last time before stepping out of the shower, grabbing a towel to dry off with.
No matter how hard he tried not to think about Wilder as he dressed, his brain wasn’t on board.
One part of him was very excited about Wilder watching him at the gym because it meant they got to spend time together.
The other part, though? Dread. Pure fucking dread.
He reached for his receivers, hesitating for a moment. Would it be better to block out the world?
He shook his head with a sigh. As if he’d ever be afforded that luxury.
He walked downstairs, grabbed some fruit from the kitchen, and put it in his bag before heading to the front door.
It was early enough that birds were still chirping away as he stepped outside.
He closed his eyes, taking in every beautiful note of their melody.
It was beautiful. As much as he liked the silence, he knew he’d miss things like this. At least eventually.
He walked across the front porch and headed down the stairs, his gaze sweeping across the parking lot. The motorcycles were all mostly parked in a straight line, though a few were thrown in haphazardly. The latter was likely the twins’. Those two were the epitome of chaos.
He walked toward the garage that had Miles’s car parked in front of it, his steps faltering when he saw the hulking mass of a man leaning against said car. Wilder arched a brow at him, the knowing look in those gorgeous eyes making his heart stutter.
“Didn’t think you’d be going anywhere alone, did you?”
He ignored the question, putting his bag on the ground between his feet.
“How long have you been waiting out here? Don’t you sleep?”
“Not when you seem determined to make my job harder.”
“It was just an accident,” he mumbled, unable to meet Wilder’s gaze.
“It wasn’t. Not that it would matter if it was.”
Wilder pushed away from the car and reached to his left, which was when Emmett noticed the motorcycle parked next to the car. Wilder grabbed a helmet hanging on the handlebars and stepped toward Emmett.
He glanced at the helmet, then at the bike, his pulse jumping when he realized what Wilder intended.
“No,” he said, stumbling back a step, nearly falling over his bag.
Wilder frowned, lowering his hand.
“Why?”
“I…” He eyed the bike for a moment, then glanced at Wilder, heat rising to his cheeks. It wasn’t the bike that was the problem. He swallowed hard. “Do I have to?”
“I’d prefer it,” Wilder said, head tilting to the side as his eyes tracked across Emmett’s face, probably taking in the blush that was only deepening.
His heart skipped a beat, that intense look in Wilder’s eyes tearing apart something inside him. Ripping open a hole he feared he couldn’t mend. Feared he’d never want to mend.
“Fine,” he mumbled, reaching down to lift his bag and put his arms through the straps, hiking it onto his back with a grunt before accepting the helmet from Wilder.
He pointedly ignored Wilder’s grin and waited for him to straddle his bike before he put on his helmet and slid on behind him. He wrapped his arms around Wilder’s big form, eyes squeezing shut as the bike pulled forward.
The second they hit the road, he held on for dear life, well aware that Wilder was going slow for him. He wasn’t afraid of Wilder crashing. He was afraid Wilder would feel the rapid beat of his heart from being pressed against his back.
He tried to concentrate on just breathing the whole ride, a sigh of relief escaping him when the red brick building came into view. Wilder slowed down to take the turn into the parking lot and continued to the smaller empty lot at the back.
The bike stilled, and a heartbeat later, Emmett’s feet were firmly on the ground, fingers fumbling with the strap under his chin. He jerked the helmet off and shoved it toward Wilder, who took it with a raised brow.
Wilder hung a helmet on each handlebar, then pulled off his gloves. Emmett’s breath caught in his throat. His knuckles were covered in wounds. Red and angry-looking ones. Had it really been that bad yesterday, and he hadn’t noticed?
“I’m sorry,” he said before he could swallow the words.
Green-flecked eyes met his gaze, brows furrowed in confusion.
“For what?”
He motioned at Wilder’s hands, watching the man’s expression change to something almost playful as he stretched his fingers.
“Not a lot of that is from catching you,” Wilder said.
He was the one who was confused now, his head tilting to the side as he arched a brow at Wilder.
Wilder looked down at his hands. “This is payback.”
“Payback?”
This time, when Wilder’s gaze met his, there was no amusement, just a dark look he was surprised didn’t scare him.
“You attack one of ours, you pay the price.”
His mouth dropped open when he realized exactly what Wilder meant. He wasn’t worth beating anyone up for. He shook his head, opening his mouth to say as much, but all that came out was a soft, “I’m not yours.”
Wilder hummed, the gleam in his eyes saying otherwise. His breath caught in his throat. Great. He was imagining things now. If he hadn’t gotten the all-clear from Emma last night, he could’ve at least blamed it on that, but no, he was just… fucked.
He took off toward the door, grabbing the handle and jerking when it didn’t budge. A groan pushed past his lips. Of course. Today was so not his day.
Wilder reached around him with a key, sliding it into the keyhole. It put Wilder’s chest against his side, the man towering over him. Fuck, he smelled good. That woodsy scent wafting over him. How was that fair? How was he supposed to not think about that?
He needed to stuff Wilder firmly into a box labeled ‘friend’ before he did something stupid like breathe in deeply and try not to make an embarrassing―No. Nope. Not going there. His brain needed to sit this one out. His body, too.
The click of the lock startled him, and if Wilder’s wry smile was any indication, he was well aware of where his thoughts had gone. Shit.
Wilder held the door open for him, and he slipped inside without touching him, which wasn’t exactly easy with how much space the big man took up.
He headed down the hall with fast strides, hoping to avoid any further embarrassing moments, but Wilder’s legs were longer than his, and he caught up to him easily.
He swallowed back a curse and threw glances Wilder’s way as they walked through the gym to the double doors that led into the boxing room. There was a distinct pull on Wilder’s lips, and he couldn’t even be mad about it.
Wilder pulled open one of the doors, and he wished he wasn’t blushing as he stepped inside.
He walked to the couch and pulled his bag off, dropping it on the floor.
He’d spent hours finalizing a design yesterday with all the time he’d been confined to his bed, grateful that Ezra had a tablet he could borrow while his own was a mangled piece of tech.
Ezra had taken one look at it and cringed, which he’d taken to mean that it was unsalvageable.
He eventually needed to get a new one, but Ezra’s would do for now.
He turned toward the wall, noting the paint cans someone had left along with all the equipment he’d told Kaz he needed. Kaz had given him free rein on what to paint, and he was taking full advantage. Someone had procured a ladder for him as well, so he could reach the top parts of the wall.
“You’re working inside for now,” Wilder said, his stern look quashing the protests rising in Emmett. It was probably for the best anyway. He wasn’t too keen on going back out there.
“I’ll be close by if you need me,” Wilder said, backing toward the double doors.
He nodded and pretended that those words didn’t make something flutter in his stomach. He turned his gaze to the white wall and took a deep breath before reaching for a pencil.