Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
BAYLOR
She’s late.
It shouldn’t bother me. I didn’t want her to come at all, but she’s supposed to be here, and she’s late.
I’m irrationally pissed off—or maybe not so much irrational.
I told her not to come, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want her here.
She said she was coming anyway. I’ve been expecting her, but she’s not here.
I watch as people climb out of trucks. One by one, and none are her.
Briggs has the fire roaring, beers and snacks are everywhere, and ’90s country music is blaring—it’s heaven on earth. At least that’s what I always thought these nights were. But that was before—before being inside Emily.
Now I know what heaven on earth is, and fuck, I want it again.
The thought of me possibly losing it, losing her, is making me… well, fucking lose it.
Add that to the fact that she’s not here yet tonight, and I’m a little on fucking edge. “You look like someone pissed in your Cheerios,” Boone states as he jumps up on the tailgate next to me.
Our legs swing back and forth, beers in our hands. I don’t want to have a conversation with anyone right now, especially not with Boone, who is going to do everything he can to annoy me, mainly because that’s what brothers do.
And if the tables were turned, I’m sure I would do the exact same thing.
“That is a fucking gross expression,” I spit out.
He laughs because he loves grossing anyone out, especially me. “I know it is, but it’s so vivid. I fucking love it. Tell me, where is your mystery woman?”
“Don’t,” I grunt.
“What? It’s all a secret, right? I’m not going to fuck with your shit. But isn’t she supposed to be here tonight?”
“Where’d you hear that?” I demand a little too forcefully.
Boone shrugs a shoulder. “Some of the girls were chatting. That’s all. Couple of them said they went to pick her up, but she wasn’t at her place.”
His words make my heart race, and panic courses through my veins. Where the fuck is she? I jump off the tailgate and onto my feet, my body swaying slightly because I’ve been stress-drinking, thinking about her being here. Now I’m drunk on an empty stomach.
Which means I can’t drive.
“You want me to take you to her place?” Boone asks.
I think about his words. Do I want to go to her place?
I do. But I don’t. I start to tell him no, but then I realize that it’s exactly where I want to be.
Not only that, I won’t be able to think about anything but her, and I’ll be worried all night long.
So I guess I should just say yes to my brother’s offer.
“Let me try calling her first before we run down there.”
Taking my phone out of my pocket, I find her name and touch the call button on the screen. Holding it to my ear, I turn the volume up as it rings. Once, twice, three times, and then I hear her voice, but it sounds funny, almost as if she’s far away.
“Em?” I call out.
Boone’s brows rise. I don’t know why he is acting surprised. It’s not like he doesn’t know who I’ve been seeing the last few weeks. Emily and I have been dancing around one another for a year.
“Oh,” she whispers. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I grunt. “Where are you?”
She doesn’t say anything immediately. Then she clears her throat and finally speaks. Maybe the hesitation is because she knows I’m not going to like what she has to say, and she would be correct, because I don’t.
“I’m home. I’m not coming tonight. I decided against it.”
“Why?” I demand.
She doesn’t have to answer me. She doesn’t have to tell me anything. We aren’t together, but we are because there’s literally nobody else I would rather be with—not now, not anytime soon.
She’s going to tell me, though—partially because I’m drunk and will demand it and wear her ass down until she does. And also partially because I’m worried; again, I won’t let it go until she confesses whatever the fuck is going on.
“I was ready to come over, but then I decided I didn’t want to. I’m not feeling well.”
Her words catch me off guard. My brows snap together. I don’t want to push her, but at the same time, I want to make sure she’s okay. This isn’t like her, but then again, maybe it is.
I may have known her my whole life, and I may have spent every single night with her the past couple of weeks. But I don’t claim to know all of her moods, and I don’t want to make whatever is going on with her worse.
“Are you working tomorrow?” I ask.
“Yeah,” she exhales.
“I’ll see you after work.”
Defeated and disappointed, I end the call and shove my phone in my pocket. This is what I originally wanted. I didn’t want her to be here to fuck shit up with Beckett and Maisie. I wanted to keep her at arm’s length, a secret, though not a very well-kept one.
Now that it’s gone the way I thought I wanted, I can’t help but feel really shitty—beyond fucking shitty. I should have driven my ass down to her place, picked her up, and brought her here. I should be proud to walk up to this bonfire with her on my arm.
I’m an asshole.
But I’m torn because as badly as I want her, I also don’t want to upset my family. My brother and my new sister. Boone’s elbow nudges mine, and I turn my head, looking over to him. He’s been standing beside me, his eyes searching mine. I can tell he’s concerned.
“She’s not feeling well.”
“You want me to take you to her?” he asks, repeating his offer.
“Nah. I’m going to see her tomorrow.”
So I stay at the bonfire even though everything inside me begs me to go to her. I ignore my gut feeling, and I drink and drink and then drink some more before I stumble into Beckett’s house and pass out on the sofa.