“Things will work out.” Casey kisses my temple.
I check my watch. “You’ve got swimming practice soon.”
Casey makes a clicking noise in his throat. I can’t see his face, but I imagine he looks torn.
“I’ll look after him,” Emory says.
“I’ll tell them I’m sick.”
I hug his arm. “You don’t have to do that. Hell, I don’t want you to do that. Swimming is important to you.”
“I’ve never missed a practice yet. I’m the only one on the team who hasn’t. I can play hooky this once. You’re more important.”
“You’re going to make me cry,” I whisper.
“Would that be a bad thing? Maybe you need to let it all out,” Emory says.
I shake my head. I don’t want to shed tears over Dad. “Thank you. Both of you. You could have left.”
“Like we would have done,” Emory says.
“What you said… the way you stood up for me… you were amazing.”
“We’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“And hey, I’m pretty sure he thinks we’re just good friends,” Casey says.
I laugh, even though my chest squeezes tight. I should have told Dad we were boyfriends. Why am I such a coward when it comes to him? “What now?”
“We wait for your dad to come around. Which he will.”
“Your dad will come back, and while we wait, we’ll distract you with snuggles,” Emory says.
“How am I meant to resist an offer like that?”
Emory and Casey exchange a glance before speaking in unison. “You’re not.”
* * *
One hour turns into two and then three, and still no sign of Dad. By the time darkness falls, I’ve pretty much given up hope, even though Emory and Casey keep asserting that Dad will come back, but maybe it will be tomorrow. We cuddle and talk into the early hours of the morning, my boyfriends doing everything they can to make me laugh and set my heart at ease. Eventually, we fall asleep together, fully dressed.
I get woken by the doorbell. Casey is holding me, his head resting on my shoulder. Emory is snuggled up to my side, his morning erection pressing against my thigh. The doorbell rings again. It’s Sunday, so it can’t be the postman, which means… shit.
“Wake up.” I shake Emory and Casey.
“What’s the matter?” Emory asks in a sleepy voice.
“Someone’s at the door.”
“What time is it?” Casey asks.
I check my watch. “Ten.”
He lifts his head and blinks. “Ten?”
I ruffle his hair. “You slept in.”
“I bet there will be a blue moon tonight,” Emory teases.
