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)
“You mad at me?” The question was lobbed at Emerson seemingly out of the blue. “Did we have a fight or something before…the accident?”
Emerson’s eyebrows knitted together. “Why would you ask that?”
“You seem so…I dunno, distant. So I figure either all this is too much for you, or you’re disappointed I got hurt in the first place.”
A light bulb went off in Emerson’s head as he turned to Rhys. “Probably everyone in your life has been worried about you at some point.” Not that he wasn’t worried; he sure as hell had been and always would be, but accidents happened, as Emerson knew all too well. “But this was a freak accident and not your fault. You know that, right?”
He nodded. “No way I could’ve seen that coming.”
“Right. I mean, yeah, I’m likely extra anxious because of my parents and all—”
“I remember,” he replied, emotion in his eyes.
“Yeah?” Emerson murmured, wondering if it felt closer to the surface for Rhys since he’d lost an entire year of his life. “What else do you remember?” His hand flew to his mouth. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked that.”
It wasn’t something they’d discussed until this moment. Emerson had gotten all his information through Mrs. Lancaster, who was now out of earshot in the kitchen. When Emerson visited the hospital, he tried focusing on future plans.
“No, it’s okay. My memories from childhood seem intact. But not anything more recent. Like…” He glanced out the window. “The date on the calendar. The last thing I remember is prepping the house for Halloween last year.”
“I’m sorry.” Damn…that must’ve gutted him. Halloween was always a big event on their street because they had lots of young families, and last year Rhys had purchased enough candy to feed an army. Emerson’s fingers fidgeted on his lap. He wished he could reach out and touch him, pull him closer. He’d held his hand in the hospital when he was asleep, but now it seemed too intimate and might confuse Rhys even further. He searched his brain for something to say to help him feel calmer. Something to connect them more.
“I’m hoping stuff comes back…” Rhys’s shoulders deflated. “But I also know there’s a possibility it won’t, so I’ll just have to roll with it.”
“It’ll be okay.” He patted Rhys’s knee. “One day at a time.”
Emerson tried to read the mix of emotions in Rhys’s eyes as they stared at each other. Worry and fear, and maybe even some fondness, though it was no doubt wishful thinking on his part, and that made melancholy take center stage in his chest.
He wanted to know how Rhys felt about him—even though he might never remember anything that happened between them. Did Rhys ever have any inklings about him over the years? Had he ever thought about kissing Emerson before it actually happened? But he was too afraid to ask; plus, it was the exact wrong time. Everything seemed overwrought with tension, and it would only muddy the waters.
“Are you nervous about this?” Rhys asked, and Emerson worried he’d read him all too well.
“Nah, we’ve been through worse, right? Unless you’re worried?”
“I trust you to take good care of me,” he said, and Emerson smiled as warmth spread through him from the compliment. He was dependable, if nothing else. “Though you’re a shit cook, so I’ll have to help in the kitchen, or at least direct you.”
“Oh, I see,” Emerson scoffed. “Now the truth comes out.”
“Someone had to say it out loud,” he replied, twisting the edge of the afghan.
“Pretty sure the kids have come close.” He rolled his eyes. “The other day Sam refused to eat the peas I served with the pork chops. Said they were too mushy.”
“How can you mess up peas?” Rhys quipped before growing serious again. “Fill me in on what they’ve been up to? Is Audrey still playing soccer? And how about Sam—still reading every climate-change article available?”
“Of course. The kid is a junior Einstein.”
They spent a few minutes talking about Audrey’s moods and Sam’s struggles with peers at school, and that offered the bridge between them Emerson was searching for. When Rhys shifted on the couch, eliciting a wince, Emerson eyed the pain meds on the coffee table and knew Rhys was overdue for a dose.
Rhys sighed. “I know I need one.”
“Don’t be a martyr. You’re still healing.”
“Yeah, okay,” Rhys admitted begrudgingly. “You’re right.”
After Rhys gulped the pill down, Emerson helped his mom serve them lunch.
9
Rhys
It was the same dream as last night. Rhys was falling, falling, falling into a black void. He couldn’t see anything, only feel his body’s reaction to the increasing speed. His stomach was fluttery, his chest tight, his arms flailing endlessly, hoping for purchase. He gasped as he blinked open his eyes to an empty room and darkened windows, the only light flickering from the television screen and the pendant bulbs in the kitchen.