After a nap and a shower, Emerson picked up a couple of subs from his favorite deli near Rand’s house. He probably should’ve called his brother before showing up, but that would’ve given him a chance to say no. After parking his pick-up on the street, he ambled up to the small, neat house. He stared at the door, wondering what Randall’s reaction would be—and if he should even go through with his plan. Maybe coming clean to the years of lies and half-truths would improve things between them.
Remembering Randall’s face last night, he knew that was likely a pipe dream. Either way, he was tired of the lies. Emerson took a deep, cleansing breath and stretched the muscles of his neck and shoulders before he finally got brave enough to knock.
Silence met him.
He glanced in the drive and assumed his brother was home, so he knocked again. Rand answered the door a few seconds later, looking utterly exhausted.
He glowered at Emerson.
Emerson wasn’t sure how to take that look.
“I brought lunch,” Emerson said, trying to keep his tone light. He lifted the bag into view.
His brother narrowed his eyes even more.
“Best subs in the province,” Emerson said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Come in,” Randall grumbled, backing up a few steps.
Emerson wasn’t sure he should. After one of Randall’s brows rose, he walked through the small house to the back and laid the bag on the tiny kitchen island. He moved to the fridge and popped it open, checking out the drink options. “What do you want to drink with it?”
“Whatever,”his brother answered, his tone colder than the inside of the fridge.
Emerson tensed. He grabbed a couple of bottles of ginger ale and walked them to the island. He set one in front of Randall and himself before fishing out the subs in silence. Neither spoke as they opened them. The awkward tension grew by the second. Before biting into the sandwich, Randall erupted, tossing it down to the island.
“You were supposed to text me last night!”
Emerson cringed. He’d forgotten. His only focus had been Dash—and getting the man in his bed. “I’m sorry. I had my hands full last night.”
“Hands full of Dashiell Keller?”
Emerson’s gaze flew to Randall’s, but he didn’t answer.
Randall growled. “Right after I got back to the station this morning, there was a call over the radio. They’d found a dead alpha a few blocks from the Dragon.”
Emerson frowned.“Who was it?”
“I worried it was you,” Randall snapped. “My shift was over, but I carried my assback out there,… and…” Randall clenched his jaw. “From a distance, itlookedlike it was you. I thought I was going to have to tell our family that you were gone.”
“I’m so sorry,” Emerson said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“One text would’ve prevented all that.”
“You’re right,” Emerson said.
“Damned right I’m right,” Randall barked. “Luckily, itwasn’tyou, but when you didn’t pick up when I called, I could’ve killed you myself. I’d finally gotten to bed and here you come knocking on my door with hoagies instead of an apology.”
“Sorry,” Emerson repeated.
“Do you give a rat’s ass about anyone but yourself, Em?”
“Of course I do!”
“It sure as fuck doesn’t feel like it!”Randall growled.
They stared at one another, an emotional thunderstorm churning between them. There was so much Emersonwantedto say but feared saying, especially now given Randall’s anger. Did he add fuel to that fire or just wait for a better moment?
When was there ever a better moment, though? His life was a series of lies and excuses.
