Page 45 of Emmett

After getting her situated under the covers, I move to turn on my closet light, leaving the door cracked to let it act as a night light for her in case she wakes up again. Carefully, I make my way down to her room and grab her Astro-bunny; it’s getting beaten up and starting to look more like a ragdoll than a rabbit, but it’s her comfort item and she’ll want to have it with her.

In this moment, needed by my sister, that irritating thought pops into my mind once again:

I want my mom.

NINETEEN

Emmett

My teeth gnaw anxiously at the pad of my thumb while the little green bar on the screen in front of me fills up, millimeter by agonizing millimeter.

Minutes feel like hours until the bar finally fills, replaced by the wordSUBMITTED, and my thesis is finally on its way, out of my hands.

I push my chair away from the table and stand, pulling my hands over my head to stretch my back, and I heave a breath of relief that I’ve finally crossed it off of my to-do list. My breathing comes a little easier as I close the screen of my laptop and tuck it under my arm, heading out into the living room.

“Is it done?” Ro asks me, scooching to the edge of her seat.

I hold my free arm out to my side victoriously and announce, “It’s done.”

Dad jumps out of his chair and strides over to wrap his arms around me, clapping me on the back. “I am so proud of you, bud,” he tells me, and I can feel a heavy weight drop from my shoulders.

I haven’t heard from Nash since that morning in the kitchen, and I’ve been on edge for the past week; worried that what happened between us was just a tool to him, that hewould tell my dad and...well, I don’t know, but I was preparing myself for the ax to drop. I even brought some random girl home to have obnoxiously loud sex with, so if Nashdidsay something about us, I could call him a liar and have some sort of proof to back it up. Now that I know he hasn’t said anything to Dad, his silence is even more confusing. He seemed to seek me out before, and now he’s just…gone.

I stuff the thought into a tiny box in my mind and push it into the corner to collect dust, bringing myself back to this moment; celebrating a win with my family, and letting myself bask in their pride.

Uncle Davis shoulders through the door thirty minutes later with his arms loaded down with grocery bags and a giant box of beers, beaming.

“Cover your ears, Macie darlin’,” he orders, and she obeys, smacking her palms over her ears. He sets the heavy load down next to the door and rushes me like a goddamn linebacker, throwing an arm around my neck. “Fuckin’ crushed it, Hoss!” He shouts with his his fingers ruffling my hair. “Didn’t doubt ya for a second.”

“I haven’t walked yet,” I remind him – and my dad.

“No shit,” he chuckles. “When you do, it’s gonna be a way bigger party than some burgers on the grill.”

Rowan gasps from her chair and I catch her eye. “No,” I tell her, pointing as I try not to laugh.

“Oh yes,” she nods. “I’m planning your graduation party.”

“We’ll host it at the collective,” Dad adds, as if this is even a remotely good idea.

“Guys—”

They aren’t hearing me anymore; they’ve all gathered around each other, talking over one another with all of the ideas that they have. The only person not giving their input on this party is Sarah, and that’s probably only because she can’t form real words yet.

I take the few steps over to the box of beers my uncle brought and I pull one out, twisting off the metal cap. Plopping into one of the plush armchairs, I bring the beer to my mouth, smiling to myself as I listen to my family chatter away.

•

After a week of listening to party planning and another spent waiting to hearanythingfrom Nash, it feels damn good to get out of the house.

“We should have brought some girls,” Logan gripes while we wait for our drinks. “Place is dead.”

The time on my phone shows that it’s after midnight. There are definitely less people here than I expected this late, but it’s also a weeknight, and most people aren’t going to nightclubs when they have other obligations to wake up to.

“Sorry,” I tell him.

I check the time again. We’ve been at Arcane since nine. I made sure to be seen on the cameras, and I left my name with one of the bartenders; he should know that I’m here by now. It’s been almost two weeks since I last heard anything from him.

“Come on,” Logan calls to me, picking up his beer. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not going home alone tonight.”