Page 83 of Emmett

He questions the command only for a moment before leaping onto the bed and curling up against the cushion of the duvet.

Pulling my phone from my pocket, I open my contacts, once again scrolling down to Emmett’s name. Once again, my thumb hovers over the button to dial him. And like I always do every time that I consider calling him back, I turn off the phone and drop it next to me.

•

I can’t remember the last time that I was actually hungover; I don’t know if I really drank that much or if I’m just getting too damn old to have parties like that, but I didn’t get out of bed until well after three today.

I trudge through my house in my underwear, passing by staff members working to clean up the mess from last night. There are empty glasses and filthy plates all over the place, a few stains on the walls which I can’t determine to be blood, wine or food, and various clothing pieces are strewn across the floors.

Moose follows closely behind me like he always does while I make my way to the kitchen. “Someone get in here and either make some fucking food or order me some fucking food,” I holler to no one in particular. I don’t know who’s who and I don’t plan to figure it out any time soon.

“Mr. Montgomery,” one of them says as she flies into the kitchen, “I can call ahead and pick something up for you if you’d like. It might be faster than delivery.”

“I don’t give a shit how you do it, just do it,” I tell her, scrubbing my fingers across my forehead.

“Yes sir,” she says with a bow of her head before bolting out of the house.

“And you,” I say, pointing to another staff member, “get my phone for me while I wait for her.”

He offers a nod, disappearing from the room only to return a few minutes later, setting my phone gently on the counter in front of me before returning to his task. I think he’s on wall-scrubbing duty. I don’t know or care how they divvy their roles up right now.

I scroll through my phone, checking emails and text messages, ignoring anything labeled with Emmett’s name.

It’s been three months. Whatever existed between us simply doesn’t anymore. I should be fine with that. I let him go physically; now it’s time to do that mentally, too.

“I’m sorry it took so long, sir,” the woman who went to get food says. I check the time, it’s only been twenty-something minutes since she left. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

She sets out the spread that she picked up for me; some sort of cinnamon roll, a stack of waffles and...tacos?

“Th—at’s all, you’re dismissed,” I say, stopping myself from thanking her.

Fucking kid broke me.

THIRTY-FOUR

Emmett

“You good, Hoss?”

Davis struts into the lounge, tossing a nearly-empty box of donuts from this morning onto the counter next to the coffee maker. The sound of the box slapping onto the marble pulls me away from the email on my phone and I click the screen off, quickly shoving the device back into my pocket.

“Yeah,” I tell him, throwing on a smile. “All good.”

“If you’re gonna watch porn at work, do it in your office,” he teases. “Unless it’s some good girl-on-girl and you wanna share.” He finishes by holding two fingers spread in front of his mouth and flicking his pierced tongue between them with a grin.

“Har har,” I snark, “you’resofunny.”

With a laugh and an elbow to my side, he reaches into the box and grabs a braided donut, stuffing the end of it into his mouth as he starts to leave the room.

“Hey,” I call out to him, lifting a hand for him to meet me in a high five. “Tell me bye, jackass.”

“Goin’ somewhere?” He asks as he connects with my hand up top, following through to meet my hand again lower.

“Heading home.”

“Alright then, we’ll see ya,” he nods with his mouth full of glazed dough, then he turns toward the door once again to leave.

I reach for the fast food bag on the table behind me and head out after him, making my way toward the exit. I pull in a breath and blow it out through my lips to quiet the ringing in my ears as I move through the hallways, my movement only stopping when my body slams into someone.