Page 6 of Emmett

“You should let me set you up,” Ro tells me. “You need a blind date or something.”

“I need someone who’s not gonna key my car or put nails in my tires because I broke up with her,” I laugh.

“Which is why my friends are perfect.”

“We have the same friends,” I laugh. “No.”

“You’re such a spoilsport,” she pouts as she stands and collects the dishes on the coffee table. “I’m going to bed; tell my hot, hot husband I’m waiting for him when he gets home.”

I act out gagging and roll my eyes at her. “See, this is the problem with you having friends. They rub off on you and you do things like call my dad ‘hot,’ and then I have to go throw up.”

“I’m just being honest,” she shrugs. “Goodnight!”

As she makes her way to the kitchen and back up the stairs, I head for the fridge to grab another beer, using the counter to pop the cap off of the bottle.

I settle back onto the couch, resting my head against one arm of it while I toss my feet up onto the other, and I begin the process of doom-scrolling through social media. Most of the posts are either stupid memes that make me laugh a lot harder than they should, or people showing off their exaggerated lives.

My own feed isn’t much better; a few shirtless photos in the mirror or at the gym, a handful of posts that show off a favorite strain of weed or a new pipe, and a sprinkling of paparazzi photos taken because for some reason, people give a crap what Colt Fowler’s son gets up to when he leaves the house. I had a few pictures posted with the girl that I was dating before Naomi, but when we broke up and I deleted them, the comments on my other posts were a shitstorm within minutes.

Did they break up?

Do you need a sugar baby lol???

Wonder what he did

Wow now I don’t believe in love anymore

I didn’t address any of the comments because it was nobody’s business, but I decided right then and there that I’ll probably never make another post about someone that I’m seeing. I think a few too many unsolicited opinions were oneof the ingredients in the recipe for disaster that was that relationship.

I close out the apps when I hear the front door open and Zipper takes off at lightning speed to greet Dad as he walks into the house. “Hey bud,” Dad greets me through a series of overly-excited Zipper whines as the dog runs circles around his legs. “This is a nice surprise.”

“I had a couple beers,” I tell him. “I figured I could crash on the couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re up to our ears in bedrooms. Take one.”

His hand comes down on top of my head and he ruffles his fingers through my hair, sending it in all directions. “Do youalwayshave to do that?” I gripe as I brush it back into place.

He chuckles on his way out of the living room, throwing his head over his shoulder. “Yes, I do. Goodnight.”

I playfully give him the finger until he’s out of my line of vision, then I grab my stuff and head down the long hall where the girls’ bedrooms are to one of the spare rooms for the night, which I don’t mind; the futon in here is almost as comfortable as my bed, and damn near the same size.

An email notification chimes on my phone while I settle into the cushions, and I reach for it, swiping across the screen to open the message with my heart hammering so hard that I can feel it in my throat.

Emmett,

You can meet me at Easy Eats Diner on Friday. I’ll be there at noon.

Anna

Holy shit.

I’m about to meet my mom.

THREE

Emmett

I sit in silence for a long while, tapping my fingers against the ceramic mug in my hands and trying to stuff down my racing nerves.