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Chapter twenty-three

Hazel James

Today is not going how I thought it would. I feel like I took a sip of water only to find out it’s actually an iced matcha. Delicious, but unexpected.

I glance over at Emmett as he pulls into the parking lot of my apartment complex. Him showing up today gives me all the warm and fuzzy feelings, but worry is poking me like an itchy clothing tag. Everything was going so well in New York before he pulled away. Will he do that again?

“I don’t like this place,” Emmett says with a frown, drawing me out of my thoughts.

My brow furrows. “What do you mean? This is one of the nicest complexes in Nashville.”

“It’s in the middle of the city. It must be loud all the time, and no matter how nice it is, any belligerent drunk can wander over from Broadway and cause trouble.”

I scratch beside my mouth. He’s got a point, one I’ve considered myself as well. It is rather loud some nights, but that’s what noise-cancelling headphones and Lofi music are for. And the occasional drunken spectacle gives the place character. Gives me stories to tell Mikayla.

“It’s not as bad as you think,” I say as I open the passenger door to his truck.

“I still don’t like it,” he grumbles as he gets out.

I smile as I hop down and shut the door behind me. He cares. While I’m worried he might change his mind about that, right now he cares about me . And though I have an amazing best friend and a wonderful sister who do as well, it feels good to add someone to the short list.

“Come on, we won’t take long,” I say when we meet at the front of his truck.

“I’m not trying to rush you,” he says as we start walking to the lobby door. “I might start looking for better places for you to live later, but I’m not rushing you while I’m here.”

“You mean while you’re here to protect me?” I ask with a smile as I press my back against the entrance door to push it in.

His mouth quirks up. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.”

“I’ve lived here for three years now, you know. Nothing bad has happened to me.”

Except that one time a drunk bachelorette puked on my shoes and yelled at me like it was my fault. But she wasn’t dangerous , just rude.

“Why do I feel like you’re lying?” he asks as we walk to the elevator. I wave at Mabel, the sweet older lady who mans the front desk and also makes a mean pecan pie. She smiles and waves back.

“Is she supposed to be the security guard?” Emmett hasn’t asked me this many back-to-back questions since my interview.

I press the up button on the elevator. “We don’t have security guards, but don’t underestimate Mabel. I’ve heard her scolding the door-to-door salesmen that try to sneak in sometimes. She’s not to be trifled with.”

“You live in the middle of downtown Nashville with no security?” Incredulity is thick in his tone.

“We have a security system , just not a security guard. It’s no big deal, Emmett.”

The elevator opens with the chime of a bell. We step on and I press the twelfth floor. While the apartment complex has its shortcomings, which Emmett is so kindly pointing out, I do have a great view of the city. I’m more fond of pastures than city lights, but I still appreciate it.

“I’m even more glad you’re coming home with me then. I don’t like the idea of you being here at night.”

My smile grows. “I never said I was staying the night. You sure are bossy when you’re worried.”

He gives me an exasperated look. “Hazel.”

“Emmett,” I tease.

My mood rises with the elevator. I’m bubbling over with happiness.

“I’m being serious.”

“When are you not?”

He turns his head, wiping a hand over his mouth to hide the smile I catch. It makes me grin all the more. “I’m trying to ensure you’re safe.”

I feel as light as cotton candy. He probably doesn’t know how much his words mean to me. It’s not like I’m letting him know with how much I’m teasing him. I can’t stop though. This is the most fun I’ve had since New York.

“By telling me what to do?”

“The question part was implied.”

We’re almost to my floor. Maybe it’s the fact that we’re about to exit this private bubble that emboldens me to say the first thing that comes to mind.

I meet his gaze. “Ask me to stay with you tonight.”

“What?” he asks, his eyes flickering to mine in surprise.

“You said the question was implied. Make it explicit.”

Heat rises up my neck as I realize too late the word I used.

“Explicit,” he repeats in a low, gravelly tone that makes my pulse quicken. He crosses the small amount of space between us. One of his hands plants itself above my head. I have to tip my head back to meet his dark gaze.

“Will you stay the night at my house tonight so I know you’re safe?”

Not sleeping must throw my filter out because instead of yes, I whisper, “Say please.”

His eyes drop to my mouth. My lips part in anticipation. He leans in a fraction. My toes curl in my sneakers.

“ Please stay with me, Wildflower.” There’s a weighted quality to his voice that makes me think he’s not just talking about tonight.

I wet my lips. His eyes flash with something I’ve never seen in him before.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I’ll stay with you.” I hope he can tell the double meaning of my words because I’m not sure I’m brave enough to explain them.

The elevator chimes, making me jump. Emmett takes a swift step back as the doors slide open. He clears his throat and gestures for me to step out first. I’m afraid of moving from my spot against the wall. There’s a chance my legs give out after whatever that was.

I manage to push myself up off of the wall and walk down the hallway that leads to my apartment. We step side by side in silence. Did he feel what I felt? He had to, right? I shake off my questions. I’m about to see Raven for the first time since I left this morning. She’s going to meet Emmett, too. Under normal circumstances that wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but after all that she’s been through, I don’t want to overwhelm her. I texted her to warn her, but all I got back was a thumbs-up emoji.

We make it to my door and I put in the code to get in.

“People can hack these things easily,” Emmett points out.

I shoot him a look. “They can pick locks easily, too.”

“Fair.”

I shake my head, smiling as I open the door. We walk inside and my stomach flips. What will Emmett think of my decorating? It’s a lot different from his castle, not just in size but in the amount of color. Emmett’s home isn’t devoid of color, but if he lives in autumn, I live in spring. There’s a pastel floral rug in the entryway, and photos in thrifted frames of all colors and sizes hang on the wall. Ahead is the living room, where it looks like Raven is snuggled up on my tufted pink couch beneath a yellow blanket that I crocheted myself.

Raven looks over as we walk in. Her eyebrows raise at Emmett towering behind me. I’m sure she looked him up online when I told her about him after I first got hired, but that’s a lot different than seeing him in person. He tends to fill up a room both physically and through the way he carries himself.

“Raven, this is Emmett, my–” I cut off before I say boss . After today that doesn’t feel like the best qualifier.

“Friend,” Emmett fills in. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Raven replies, her eyes flicking between us before settling on me. “I know you said he was coming over, but you didn’t give a lot of other details.”

I didn’t think that far ahead, but I wouldn’t look like a competent older sister if I said that.

“We were ironing out the details on the way here,” I say with a casual shrug, willing myself not to turn red at the thought of our talk on the elevator. “We’re going to stay at Emmett’s tonight. I need you to pack a bag.”

Her eyebrows shoot up further, hiding behind her brown bangs. “ Oh-kay ,” she drags out the word. “Did you see Mom?” She stands up, her oversized sweater hanging like a blanket draped over her, almost covering the hem of her shorts.

“I did. We can talk about it after you’ve packed your bag.”

I feel Emmett watching our interaction.

“ Fine .” Another dragged-out syllable. She’s been extra fond of those lately. I thought we left that in middle school, but apparently, like Y2K fashion, it’s making a reappearance.

She walks to her room, leaving her blanket strewn half on the couch, half on the floor. Since she stays at my apartment so often, she has her own room here with clothes and whatever else she needs. It’s on the small side, but it’s better than the chaos at Mom’s or the deafening silence at Dad’s.

“I promise she’s not a total brat,” I say with a laugh as I grab the blanket and fold it. “Our relationship can be strained with me having to parent her instead of being her sister.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Emmett says from across the room.

He’s standing with his arms crossed, surveying the space the way I imagine a security guard would survey our complex–if we had one.

“I know, but it makes me feel better. I don’t want you to think poorly of us–of me.”

“I don’t.”

I smile at his to-the-point answer. “Good. Now, I need to pack my bag, but you can look around if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

I leave him in the living room, fighting the urge to follow him around and ask his opinion of every item he comes across. My bedroom is thankfully not in total disarray. It doesn’t come close to the pristine guest wing at Emmett’s, but I don’t look like a slob either. There’s a pile of clothes I haven’t made time to fold in a chair in the corner of my room, and my bedsheets are a disheveled mess from tossing and turning last night. Other than that, it looks all right. I wouldn’t be embarrassed if Emmett came in.

I’m grateful that’s the case, because he joins me when I’m trying to find a sock in the pile of clothes. Not even a matching one, just another one will do at this point.

“Not a fan of laundry?” he asks, amusement in his voice.

I glance over my shoulder and find him leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m at your house so much I never have time,” I say, and then realize how…girlfriend-y that sounds. Like the moment in a movie right before the guy says the girl can have a drawer in his dresser to put her things in.

“You could leave some of your things in one of the guest rooms,” he says, as if reading my thoughts. “I don’t mind.”

I freeze, a pajama top with sunshines on it that I got to match June in my grip. It doesn’t mean anything , I tell my galloping heart. Don’t jump to conclusions.

“I don’t want to overstep,” I say because I don’t know how to respond.

“It’s not overstepping if I offer.”

He has a point there.

“I’ll think about it.” I continue my search. “Thank you.”

It’s quiet for a moment while I dig through this seemingly never-ending pile of laundry. If there weren’t–ahem– undergarments in here, I’d enlist Emmett’s help. But I think I’ve blushed enough today without that.

“I like the way you’ve decorated,” Emmett comments right as I find a sock and lift it victoriously…along with a pair of yellow lacy underwear. I jerk my arm back down so fast I worry for a second that I dislocated it.

“Found the sock,” I squeak, then rush over to the floral duffel bag on my bed without looking at Emmett. “Thank you, um, about the apartment. I know it’s brighter than what you gravitate toward.”

“I like that about it. It feels like you.”

I risk a glance at him. He’s watching me with a soft hint of a smile on his lips. The lips I almost kissed twice today. If he keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to risk a lot more than a glance.

If he likes my apartment, and it feels like me…that would stand to reason…“You like me,” I say aloud because, apparently, my filter was left in the hospital waiting room.

He lets out a soft laugh. “Yeah, Wildflower, I like you.”

There’s a vulnerability in his expression that I wouldn’t recognize if I hadn’t spent so much time deciphering every quirk of his lips and raising of his brow the past few weeks. It would seem I’m not the only one unsure of what’s happening between us. Lines are blurring, and Emmett is the kind of man who prefers rigid, clear boundaries.

“I like you too.” My confession floats in the air between us, unable to be taken back. His smile grows a touch, and I find myself grinning at him.

“Hazel, should I bring my backpack?” Raven yells from across the apartment, shattering our moment.

“Yes,” I shout back, then zip up my bag.

“Are you ready?” Emmett asks.

My bag might be, but I don’t know if I am.