I crept around the couch to find Emma passed out there. Her cheeks were stained rosy and her lips were in this cute little pout. I was haunted by how much I wanted to kiss those lips in her hot tub, by how secretly pissed I was when she wouldn’t kiss me. I couldn’t stay mad looking at her like this. She was huddled under a throw blanket like she was freezing.
All I wanted was to make it better.
“Hey,” I whispered, kneeling next to the couch. I quickly identified the source of the buzzing. Emma was snoring.
Her hair had partially fallen into her face, so I used a gentle finger to tuck it behind her ear. She was burning up. My fingers settled on her neck and it was all clammy and sticky.
Her eyes struggled to open, like they were weighted with cement. “Royce?”
“Yeah, it’s me. What do you need?”
“I’m so tired,” she mumbled, nestling her face back into the throw pillow.
“Have you eaten anything? I brought you some—” I turned to get the container of soup, but by the time I faced her again, she was all the way out. I’d bought a few sports drinks, figuring she probably needed something stronger than water.
I sat there on the floor, trying to figure out my next move. Emma was sound asleep, and sleep was probably what she needed. But there was no sign of Liam, or maybe he was sick too. I pressed a kiss to her forehead before standing and passing through the house to see if anyone else was around. It was just Emma. I couldn’t just leave her there like that, all alone and with no one to help her. I’d at least stay until she woke up long enough to drink something. I settled down in an armchair in her living room and it wasn’t long before I, too, was out.
“What the fuckare you doing here?”
I jolted awake to find two tall men watching me and the aroma of a hockey bag blooming in the room.
“Liam,” the other figure scolded him. “Sorry. Who are you?”
The man stepped into the dim lamp light, and he looked a lot like Liam. It felt a bit like being interrogated in a gangster movie. There may as well have been a lightbulb on a chain swinging in my face.
“Um, I’m Harlan. I just came to check on her because Miguel said she was sick and I hadn’t heard from her in a few days, and Imade some soup, and I stuck it in the fridge by the way, it should keep for a while . . .”
This was full-on rambling from me.
“Harlan Royce, in the flesh,” the man said, sticking out his hand and leaning my way. “Jeff. Corrigan. Emma’s ex. Liam’s dad. And I hear you’re Emma’s . . .” He fumbled for my definition.
“Student,” I said at the same time Liam said, “Fuckbuddy.”
His dad shot him a look and Liam threw his hands out. “What? He was naked in Mom’s bed. What else should I call him?”
“No,” Emma groaned from the couch. “Why?”
My stomach sank. Was she hurting? I wanted to rush over and kneel next to her, but that felt awkward with the two main men in her life in the room.
Fuck it. They weren’t the bosses of me. “You alright, princess?”
“Princess?!” Liam squealed.
Jeff pressed a hand to his own forehead. “Liam, go upstairs. I know you’ve got homework.”
I knelt next to the couch, meeting Emma’s exhausted, bloodshot eyes. “Do you need medicine? I brought you some drinks and?—”
“I think we’ve got it covered,” Jeff said over top of me. “We need to let Emma rest.”
A stuffy silence filled the room. I could take a hint. I grabbed my jacket off the back of the couch and gave Emma one last look. Jeff followed me out onto the porch and turned to square up with me.
“Look, it was nice of you to check on her, but you’re not what she needs in her life right now.”
“All due respect, that’s not your decision to make,” I said.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe not for Em, but Liam needs things easy right now, okay? He’s got a lot on his plate and the last thing he needs is you taking his mom away.”
I cocked a brow at him. “You don’t trust Emma to put her son first?”
