It’s nothing like my firehouse with the bigger city budget, and barely enough of a workforce to maintain it.
But as I stare at the building’s character from the outside, with Emmett passed out across my lap, I feel a pull.
One shift on duty here, reporting out of this building, and yet this is where I chose to come.
“Emmett?” I finally whisper after an hour of complete silence and risk a glance down at him.
My hand is on his shoulder that moves with his steady breaths, and the side of his face is smashing into my hip. Though it’s uncomfortable, it’s not unwelcome.
After a breakdown like that, I’ll take this.
There’s an ache in my chest I can’t explain and a twisting of my gut that I know food won’t fix. Both started the moment I realized Emmett was just staring out the window and worsened when I saw the first tear streak down his face.
This is the first time he’s let me touch him.
But I know we can’t stay like this forever.
“Bub, wake up.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounds like a shot in the night, and he bolts half upright, his hand planting right in my crotch. “Shit.”
It’s instinct that has me snagging his wrist and yanking it away from the explosion of pain, making him fall right back into my lap with a yelp.
I immediately let go.
He scurries back as far as he can, which isn’t much considering I’m in the middle of the bucket seat, and slams his back into the handle on the door with a wince.
“What the fuck?” he hisses, his hands held in front of him, his brow furrowed low. “Where the hell are we?”
Forcing a breath, I cup my junk with one hand and point with the other. “Firehouse.”
It comes out clipped and Emmett whips his head back in my direction, only to drop his sight to where I’m holding myself.
“I-I’m sorry,” he murmurs and shrinks back even more, pulling the neck of the hoodie up over his flaming face.
“It’s fine,” I rush out before he can disappear completely. “It was just an accident.”
He nods, though it’s from behind the curtain of the material.
Clearing my throat, I adjust my half-hard cock and slide back to my side of the cab.
“Alright, let’s go.”
I’m out of the truck and slamming the door before Emmett’s head pops back out of his hoodie and I have to admit that the flush still clinging to his face is … something.
His hair is a mess, spiked in different ways and raised with static. The left side of his face has a red impression from his brow to his nose. His hands are buried inside the sleeves, even as he lets himself out of the truck and comes around, with his teeth sunk into his bottom lip.
His eyes are wide, the side of one collecting either sleep crust or dried tears and it’s … well …
Adorable.
“Here, bub, let me …” I trail off, reaching up on instinct to cup his chin and tilt his face.
His bottom lid twitches when my thumb gets close to the rheum and I try not to focus on how soft his skin feels against my palm.
Or that he’s letting me touch him without getting hostile.
And that he’s looking right into my soul without a single blink. Watching me so intently with those sweetly colored eyes that my chest goes tight.
Yeah, no. We’re not gonna think about that.
