Page 95 of Emmett
“I’msorry,” he tells me, and I believe him. “I thought that it would be better for you. I was trying to help you let me go.”
He wraps an arm around me as he maneuvers himself to pull me backward into the bed, pressing his chest against my back, and I let him.
“You’re not a parasite, Emmett,” he tells me. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Yousavedme. You never stopped belonging to me.”
My eyes close as I welcome the warmth of his body against my own, and all of the hate that I’ve tried so hard to make myself feel for him over the past three months is nowhere to be found.
“Did you do this because of me?” He asks the question so quietly I almost can’t hear him.
“No,” I tell him as his body tightens around mine and his cheek presses against my own. “There’s something just…always there. It’s like a big bundle of tangled string. Some of it’s thin and fragile. Some of it’s covered in rot. If I try to untangle it, it hurts. If I try to ignore it, there’s a numbness that lasts for a while. The options are feeling nothing or feeling pain. I know it’s stupid; I’m a grown man, I’m successful, I—”
“It isn’t stupid.”
I turn to face him, letting my hand rest on his side. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look at me the way that he is now; something gentle rests behind his eyes and a barely-there smile pulls at the corners of his mouth.
I believe what he said earlier, about not meaning to say what he did that night. As angry as I’ve been, I’ve believed that for a while, now. Iknowhim. I might be the only person in the world who does; and in this moment, I think he might be the only person in the world who really knows me.
“I’m so mad,” I admit, scrubbing the sleeve of my hoodie across my eyes. “I’m mad at myself for failing, I’m mad that my dad won’t go home, I’m mad at all the people who keep coming in here and invading my space.”
“Mad is better than numb,” he tells me. “And it’s a lot more helpful than pain.”
Cupping my face in his hand, Nash’s lips meet mine and when he licks his way past them, I’m met with the subtle taste of one of his cigars. I melt into the kiss, bringing my hand to the back of his head to run my fingers through his hair, and he pulls my body closer to his. As he drapes a leg over my hip, I can feel tension release from my body.
The truth is, the second that I opened that email, the only person I wanted to talk to was Nash. Not Dad, not Rowan or Davis, not Mariah. I wanted Nash. Somehow, he would understand. He wouldn’t have judged me for the hurt that sank deep into my bones. He would have sat me down at his piano and played some classical music that I’ve never heard before and wouldn’t even like if it weren’t for him playing it, and he would tell me all of the ways that I could make it alright.
When I called him and it went to voicemail for what felt like the seven hundredth time in three months, the world crumbled around me just a little bit more. No piano, no comforting words. Just anger, hurt and emptiness left in its wake.
“I’ve had sex with other people,” I tell him.
“I know,” he breathes. “I haven’t. I’ve tried to.”
I pull his sweater over his head and toss it to the ground behind him as I meet his lips again and move to work the buttons on the dress shirt he’s wearing beneath it.
The sound of the privacy curtain being throw open fills the room, followed by the sound of my dad’s voice. “Your nurse told me yourhusbandhad come to visit you,” he says. I separate from Nash and jump from the bed, quickly wiping my lips as if that will make this go away. Dad stands with his back turned to us and his arms crossed over his chest. “Are you decent?”
I look to Nash and silently plead with him not to egg my dad on as he slowly climbs out of the bed, wearing a smirk on his face. “Yeah,” I answer.
Turning to face us, he brings his attention to Nash. “Get out,” he orders, his tone dripping with nothing short of abhorrence.
I’ve never seen my dad so angry in my life. I’ve seen him pissed, I’ve heard him yell at people before. This is different; this is like when something is so hot that it feels cold at first, and you don’t even realize for the first few seconds that you’re being burned. A part of me thinks he might actually find something in this room to use to kill Nash – and maybe even me – on the spot.
Suddenly, my hoodie feels like an oven and the neckline of it feels like a noose tightening around my neck. My hands go clammy, it’s hard to pull in a breath, and I could swear that the walls are starting to creep closer to one another.
Against Dad’s orders, Nash circles the bed and heads toward me. “Call me when you’re home,” he tells me just before pressing a kiss to my temple.
In half a breath, my dad has him by the back of the neck. “Stay away from my son,” he growls as he shoves Nash out of the room, following after him. He’s gone for several minutes, and it isn’t hard for me to figure out that he’s talking to the hospital staff; a conversation that I’m happy not to be witness to.
Before coming back into the room, Dad pulls in a long, full breath and releases it as he smoothes his hands down the front of his shirt. I think a part of me hopes that he’ll just lose it and swing on me, because that would be so much easier than having a conversation or knowing that he’s disappointed in me. I’d so much rather have him just knock my teeth out.
“Just get it over with,” I tell him, slapping my hands against my knees as I sit perched on the bed. “Please. Let me have it.”
A tense, heavy silence hangs in the air around us for several minutes too long before either of us make a move to speak. It’s so quiet in here that I can hear the sounds ofeveryone else outside, the machines in neighboring rooms, and the vent for the HVAC unit.
Dad moves to stand, reaching toward the chair that has become his home over the past few days to grab his keys. When I throw a questioning look in his direction, he tells me, “This is a conversation that requires greasy burgers and milkshakes.”
“The heart guy’s gonna yell at you.”
He stares at me for a long moment with an arched brow. “I think a little bit of red meat will be alright.”