Page 23 of Emmett

I chuckle a little at the memory as I turn the knob and slowly press the door into the latch, trying to keep it from making any sound.

•

Everyone is staring at me.

Dad looks at me as if I’ll wither and die in front of him if he takes his eyes off of me. Rowan stares as if pieces of me have fallen off; like I’ve cracked down the middle and need to be glued back together. Macie stares in confusion, not understanding what I’m doing sitting at the breakfast table with them. And Sarah stares because that’s just what she does. She’s the only one at the table acting normally.

“Breakfast is good,” I comment, poking at my food with my fork. “Is this the bread you made?”

“No,” Ro answers. She’s as uncomfortable as I am. We all are. “That was the chocolate sourdough. I can get you some.”

“No, I—” I let out a sigh. “Never mind.”

I eat about a third of my food in the time that it takes everyone else to finish theirs. I never have much of an appetite when I go dark like this, but if I don’t eatsomething, everyone will worry too much about it. Rowan and Macie work together to clear the table, and Dad sits across from me with his elbows braced on the table and his fingers interlocked. He stares at me some more for a long time before speaking.

“I want you to see a therapist.”

“No.”

“Emmett, you’re imploding. You need help,” he urges.

Leaning back in my chair, I tell him, “I don’t need to pay some quack to tell me that I’m screwed up because my mommy doesn’t love me. I can figure that one out all on my own.”

Pain flashes across his features, and for a second, I catch a glimpse of the guy that I saw on that tape; eighteen years old, broken, and just trying to do what he can for his kid. For that second, I feel like a prick for snapping at him.

“Rowan’s seen a therapist. Macie meets with one once a week,” he tells me. “It’s been really helpful.”

“I don’t need a therapist,” I insist. “I just need…time. I came home, I’m participating, just give me time to sort through it.”

I don’t know why I can’t give him this. It shouldn’t matter whether I believe in the stuff or not, I should be able to just agree to it and do something to make him feel better. He gave his whole life for me, I should be able to give him an hour with a stranger, but I just can’t do it.

With a heavy sigh, he says, “You’ll eat your meals with us, you’ll ride with Rowan and I to work, you’ll tell me whereyou’re going, what you’re doing and who you’re going to be with should you leave the house.”

“Okay,” I nod.

“If I call you, you answer. If I send you a text message, you respond. You called this house arrest, and that is accurate,” he explains, picking up his mug of coffee.

“Okay.”

I think this might be the closest to grounded that I’ve ever been.

NINE

Nash

“You can do better than that,” I chide, stilling the motion of my hips. “Try again.”

The man beneath me squirms in an effort to use the leg hooked over my shoulder to force more movement from me, and I reach forward to pinch his nipple between my fingers and give it a hard twist, wearing a smirk on my face. He cries out at the sudden jolt of pain, squirming even more.

“Try again,” I repeat.

“Please, Sir,” he whines. “I can’t take it anymore, I need to come.”

“Well,” I say, taking hold of his legs, “since you asked me so nicely.”

I drive my cock into him over and over again, thrusting at a speed that even impresses me as he lets out a whimper, covering his mouth with his free hand. His cock twitches in his hand as the rest of him tenses, and I watch as he unloads onto his own stomach, making a complete mess of himself.

I give him a few more hard thrusts before I feel my own body tense up, my balls tightening as I climax and fill my condom with every last fucking drop.