“We don’t keep much here. This is the most I’ve been home since I moved in here.”
His gaze drops and so does my stomach.
Ah, fuck.
“Hat and I work like ninety plus hours a week,” I add and push off from the stance, stepping closer to what feels like the flight risk of a house guest. “Which is totes unhealthy.”
“Totes?”
I snort and shove my hands in my pockets while Emmett watches warily. “I heard it’s what the cool kids say these days.”
“That would infer that you’re an outcast,” he mutters to my feet.
Chuckling, I run my thumb nail beneath the one on my index finger. Step closer. Resist the urge to lift Emmett’s chin so he’ll look at me—
What?
“I am the outcast—” I blurt out. “Was. Was. In school. When we moved and I didn’t have Hatley anymore, I was definitely the weird kid that no one wanted to talk to. And I had a fucked up, mom-did-it-in-the-kitchen haircut.”
Why the fuck am I talking right now?
The breath I blow out would be a dead giveaway for the anxiety currently coursing through my veins, except Emmett’s still looking down and goddammit—
I hate that.
Feeding a hand through my hair, I force myself to walk past the guy that’s got me tongue tied and mutter, “Let’s go to the firehouse.”
Chapter 13
Emmett
The thought of exitingthe moving vehicle occurred to me too many times to count.
If I just pulled the handle, it would release, and I could roll out onto the street. Unnoticed and quietly. Possibly aim for a trajectory somewhere near the back tire. Maybe catch the unsuspecting car trailing behind.
I’d have to undo the seatbelt.
But then Tristen would hum along to the radio. It’s not anything I know, I don’t listen to the radio much, but there’s something about the deep timbre of his vibrating vocal cords that kept my gaze locked on the passing landscape instead of the worn plastic.
It’s just the soundtrack to my procession.
And it’s not even good.
We begin to slow, and I sigh, a deep force to empty my entire chest and though it burns, I relish in it. Focus on it. Wrap my arms around it and hold on tightly.
It’s what I deserve after all.
Every bruise. Every broken bone and laceration. Every layer of darkness inside my head.
I deserve it all.
“Emmett?” It’s so quiet, I almost don’t hear it over the rushing in my ears. “We don’t have to go in.”
Sucking in a breath, I shake away the voices running through my mind and squeeze my eyes closed. They’re so tight, I see a rush of colors despite the nighttime darkness. It makes my head feel like it’s spinning, and my breath comes tight.
“Hey, just breathe, okay?”
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” I choke out automatically. “I deserve it. It’s okay.”
