Page 67 of Emmett
Pulling myself to a standing position, I tell her, “I’m sorry, Ro, I don’t know why I came. I should go,” I tell her, raising my bandaged hand. “Thanks for the free healthcare.”
“He cried,” she blurts out as I approach the door, pulling her fingers to her lips as if she’s just spilled some huge secret. I stop where I’m standing and turn to face her, letting her continue. “When your dad brought you here. He told me about the bathtub and hecried, Emmett. You might be all grown up now, but you’re still his baby, and he was so scaredthat he was gonna lose you. He still is. So whatever it is, if you can’t talk to me…you can talk to your dad.”
I didn’t know that; I knew that I’d hurt him, I knew he was pissed at me, but I didn’t think…
As if being summoned, my dad wanders around the doorway, arms crossed over his bare chest and his hair is mussed from sleep. Great, now I woke them both up.
“Baby, what are— hey bud, are you alright?” He asks, his surprise at my presence obvious on his face.
“We were just having some girl talk,” Rowan jokes with a smile, standing. “But now that you’re here, I’ll let you two have boy talk.”
She shoots a significant look in my direction as she steps toward my dad, lifting herself up onto her toes to meet him for a kiss, and he scratches the back of her head before watching as she heads out of the room.
Their love comes so easily to them; they never seem to have any issues. I never once saw them fight while I stayed here, never so much as an underhanded comment or a quiet glare across the room. It was always ‘I love you’ and a quick peck on the lips in passing, always some form of physical contact; a hand held here or a hug there. Constant small reminders that they’re important to each other.
I think I want a love like they have. And I didn’t realize just how badly I wanted it until I watched the closest thing I’ve ever had to that turn into nothing. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the chance at it again. I don’t know that Ideservethe chance.
“Should I see the other guy?” Dad asks, jerking his chin toward my hand, and I offer him a tight smile. “I’ll put on some coffee.”
I follow him out to the kitchen, where he pops a fresh filter into the coffee maker and fills it with grounds, turning the machine on. The silence between us is palpable, filling every square inch of the room around us, neither of us knowing what to say to the other.
I take a seat while Dad leans against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest while he waits for the coffee to finish brewing. He fills two mugs with the steaming coffee and sets one of them in front of me, taking the other with him to sit across from me.
“Do I need to guess? Or will you make it easy and tell me?” He finally asks. “I’m old and tired, so option two would be preferable.”
“I was pissed off,” I admit, taking a sip from the steaming mug in front of me. “I didn’t hurt anyone. It was just my car.”
He taps his fingers against his own mug as his eyes flick to my neck and back up, thinking, trying to figure out just how far to push this. I clench my jaw, gritting my teeth while my index finger picks at the skin on my thumb. Dad’s eyes lock onto my nervous fidget and I stop myself, tucking my thumb under my fingers instead.
“What was it that made you so angry?”
“That relationship I was in ended tonight,” I tell him. “Or – whatever the fuck it was.”
He shifts, tensing. “Did she do something to you?”
Suddenly nauseated, I push my mug of coffee away and make a conscious effort to not pick at my thumb. I bring my hand to my pocket instead, readying myself to grab my keys and get the hell out of here. My eyes flick toward the front door; it would only take a few seconds to reach the exit if I moved quickly. I don’t think that I’d go home. I could rideLogan’s couch. Davis would probably let me hang out for a few days, but he’d tell Dad I was there.
“No. Until tonight, I thought things were great with him,” I tell him, and I watch as he blinks back his surprise at my confession. “I thought I might have even loved him.”
“I—” Dad clears his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I relax my grip on the keys in my pocket, feeling like I can breathe a little bit. “Because I was scared,” I admit. “If you knew about it, you’d see me differently.”
I may not be able to tell him the entire truth, but after months of lie after lie, it feels so goddamn good to be able to finally be able to tell him at least a partial truth wrapped in carefully-chosen words.
“Emmett, I love you,” he tells me. “If I’ve ever given you the impression that anything couldeverchange that, that was a failure on my part. You being happy is the only thing that matters to me.”
His words slam into me like a semi truck, and I suck in a sharp breath of clean air for the first time in more than an hour. Every single horrible thing that I’ve thought, that I’ve felt, that Nash said to me, things that a mom couldn’t fix. The fear and the shame; all of it bubbles to the surface in a painful boil. “Dad,” is all that I can manage to choke out as a sob cracks through my throat.
I hear the clink of his mug on the counter with barely a second to blink before he runs around to my side of the island and envelops me in a full-blown bear hug, squeezing me hard. “It’s alright, bud,” he tells me. “You’re alright.”
“No I’m not.”
“You will be,” he assures me with a kiss to the top of my head. “We’ve got you.”
It’s been years since I’ve let him hug me like this; at least since sixth grade, when I decided that I was way too cool and way too grown up to have my dad hugging on me in public or at home. He tried a couple of times, but I didn’t let him. I think I broke the magic in them. When I was little, one of Dad’s big bear hugs could make all of the world’s problems go away; a skinned knee, a particularly nerve-racking lost tooth, a nightmare.
I wish it could take all of this away, too.