Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76006 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
He wiped his hands and padded to the edge of the room, from where he watched Sam kick both their butts in the Mortal Kombat game, but he had a feeling Rhys had let him win a couple of times. Softy. Sometimes he’d argue with Rhys that the kids needed to learn the agony of defeat, but then he’d be accused of being a disciplinarian by either Audrey or Rhys. And when they put their heads together? He was woefully outnumbered.
As if Rhys felt his presence, he angled his head over his shoulder, and when their eyes met, Emerson felt an electric current move through him. Okay, now he was just losing it. They were friends, always had been, and hopefully always would be. Amen.
After Emerson put the kids to bed, he came downstairs to find Rhys still standing at the kitchen sink with a glass of water, long after he’d said good night.
“Rhys, what are you…” His voice trailed off as Rhys pushed away from the counter.
“I can’t do this anymore.” His fingers forked through his hair as he stalked closer. “There’s something going on here, and I need us to talk about it.”
Shit. He swallowed roughly, trying to find his courage. “Okay, you’re right.”
Rhys stood before him and nodded solemnly. “That night you came to the club and we saw each other and danced…” He shook his head. “What the hell was that about?”
They had essentially avoided the topic, neither brave enough to bring it up. But they were good friends, so they should’ve been able to discuss this like adults.
“Remember that time I saw you with—” Emerson waved his hand. “With that guy in your driveway?”
“Yeah, of course.”
Emerson started pacing the length of the kitchen. “After that night, I…started feeling something.”
There. He’d said it. Not everything, but it was a start.
It wasn’t the absolute truth, though, because he thought he’d probably started feeling something when they were teens, but he couldn’t make sense of it then—or barely even now.
Rhys’s forehead creased. “What are you saying?”
“I was like…” Emerson gripped the counter, his cheeks heating. “Turned on. I was turned on, okay?”
“Holy fuck,” Rhys swore under his breath as his cheeks turned a ruddy pink.
“And ever since then…”
“You’ve wondered if you like guys too?” Rhys asked, no doubt filling in the blanks for himself as well.
“Yeah,” Emerson admitted, the tension draining from his limbs. Fuck, it felt good to finally get it out. Except there were still large pieces missing. He was only getting started on understanding himself, so how could he expect Rhys to?
Rhys’s stance seemed to relax as he leaned his hip against the edge of the refrigerator. “And?”
His pulse beat erratically, his thoughts overwhelming him. He couldn’t believe it was real, much less that he was actually about to tell Rhys this shit.
But then he just let it out. “And so far, I really only feel this way around you.”
Rhys inhaled sharply. “What do you mean?”
“I think you know what I mean.” He pushed out a breath. “Do I really need to spell it out?”
“Yes…no… I don’t know.” Rhys’s voice sounded rough and a bit tortured, which made Emerson tremble. “Fucking hell, Em.”
When their eyes met, it was as if all the molecules in the room began recalibrating around them, crackling with an intensity he’d never felt before. His nails bit into his palms as he restrained himself. He wanted to reach out and touch Rhys, but he was terrified and still didn’t know how his friend might respond.
So when Rhys strode toward him, hemming him against the counter, he welcomed his solid presence, which made his limbs buzz with a warmth he felt to his toes.
“Tell me what you want,” Rhys rasped, a slight tremble to his lips. “You’re not always good at looking after your own needs.”
He was right. Emerson had essentially pushed all his own needs aside to care for his siblings. He hadn’t allowed thoughts about himself to enter the equation. Until he simply couldn’t ignore them any longer.
“I just…want to feel something other than numb,” he confessed.
“That makes sense.” Rhys reached out and hesitantly clutched his hip, gentler than he had on the dance floor. Yet it felt profoundly different. More intimate.
They stood that way for a long moment as the heat from Rhys’s palm soaked through his skin.
“I don’t want you to have any regrets.” Emerson had whispered that part almost to himself, but he should’ve known Rhys wouldn’t let it skate by.
“No matter what, I will always be your friend.” Now his other hand gripped his waist, providing him the security he needed right then. “Even if you just want to experiment. Or figure out whatever’s going on in your head.”
Emerson swallowed thickly. Did Rhys feel anything too? Or was he only trying to help his best friend figure shit out? Did it matter? Of course it did, but he couldn’t seem to think straight, not with him this close.