“For what?”
“That I’m not there. You never left me when I needed you.”
“Yes, I fucking did. I had to, there’s more to our lives than each other.”
“I—”
“No. Don’t misremember shit. If I’d been there every time you needed me, you wouldn’t have spent so much time in bed with Rubi.”
“Still not over that?”
I was, as in, I’d finally got over my fuckingself. But my point was solid, and maybe if I wasn’t such a crabby wanker, I’dbe in bed with Rubi right now instead of stewing on my own. “I love you.”
Embry sighed. “I love you. I’ll be as quick as I can, okay?”
“Nah, be safe instead.”
“All right. I’ll see you soon.”
“Bye, cielito.”
We hung up. Or, at least, Embry did. To me, the call was swallowed by silence, and I found myself with tears on my face, at the mercy of solitude, a half-eaten sandwich, and another message from my husband.
Embry:FFS, just go to bed x
* * *
I didn’t go to bed. I woke up on the floor sometime around dawn to Embry sleeping beside me and a message from Nash.
Didn’t read the message. I only knew about it from checking I hadn’t missed anything from my kids.
I hadn’t, but I’d missed my husband, and even in my current state, waking up to him was as magical now as it had always been.
He was on his stomach, arms folded under the sofa cushions he must’ve chucked on the floor when he’d come home, lower body half hidden by the same blankets covering my legs, hair in his face, and breathing deep. Fast asleep and so fucking beautiful I felt like crying again.
Fuck. I’d forgotten about that.
I reached out and tucked a lock of that dark hair behind Embry’s ear, hooking a tousled wave with fingers that for the first time in days didn’t tremble like a bitch.
Embry didn’t move either, but I was less scared of that than I had been the first time we’d slept in the same bed and I realised how long he took to wake up. And how I fell a little deeper in love with him every time I got to watch it happen. At least, when shit was good in our lives. I didn’t want to think about the days that had been so dark I’d faced the reality of him never waking up at all.
Fuck that. I rubbed his arm. “Em?”
He groaned, shifting but staying in dreamland.
I sighed and let him be, blinking at the clear vision and free-moving joints I’d woken up with. The strength in my legs, the balance, as I rose from our makeshift bed on the floor and moved to the kitchen.
It was still murky outside, cold and damp enough to drive me to the thermostat to crank the heat before I fixed my caffeine craving.
The boiler whirred to life. Scarred by River’s near-death experience, I checked the carbon-monoxide monitor Locke had installed. Checked the battery on the separate alarm. All good, but I still didn’t feel like coffee. I felt like shedding my skin and retreated to the shower instead, blasting myself with scalding water, waiting for the dizziness that still didn’t come.
It felt like a cruel trick—like one wrong move and it would surge from hell and drag me back down. But even without coffee, my head stayed screwed on right, as if my edibles trip had blasted it clean, and I returned to Embry feeling more human than I could remember in forever.
I lay down beside him and rubbed his arm again. This time he stirred a bit more and his eyes cracked open. I expected that to be it, that brief glimpse of his stormy blues all I’d get for a few more attempts. But he shocked the shit out of me by bolting upright and snatching my hand in a death grip.
“Fuck. Are you okay?”
I caught him as he tumbled over me, bracing his slighter frame. “Whoa. Cielito. Of course I’m fucking okay. Are you?”
