Emerson’s whole body flushed.
Luca sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Sorry,” Emerson barely heard him mumble. “Fuck.”
Emerson walked into the room.
There was a recliner closer to the window, where Daisy most liked to sit. It would be safest there, probably, but Emerson was trying to be brave. He sat on the opposite end of the couch. He would survive the few feet that separated him from Luca Yaeger’s sweatpants.
“I take it you’re a Giants fan?”
Luca shrugged in the periphery of his vision.
“Yeah, well. As established when I was telling you about my spreadsheets yesterday. I enjoy spending too much time with things that hurt me.”
A grin tugged at Emerson’s mouth. Luca was talking to him. This was good.
“How was the day?” he asked next.
“We got a lot harvested,” Luca answered. “Put it all into storage. Jansel left you some notes on the board.”
Emerson rubbed his right knee.
“Your mom stopped by earlier today.”
This made Luca turn his head.
“My mom?”
Emerson nodded. “She brought some stuff to help out with the old barn.”
A brief pause, then Luca returned his gaze to the TV with a rueful shake of his head.
“Leah fucking Yaeger,” he muttered to himself, with affection. “Of course she did.”
“She was helpful,” Emerson said. “Thank you. For asking for her help. Previous to that night I met you at the brewery, I…haven’t always been good at that.” His fingertips dug into his jeans a bit harder. “Asking for help.”
A Blue Jays hitter cracked a home run. Luca groaned, his head dropping to the back of the couch. Emerson attempted to ignore the sound. And the exposed column of Luca’s throat.
“She’s really nice,” he added. “Your mom.”
“Yeah.” Luca raised his head. “She’s the best.”
They watched an entire new inning in silence. But it was an okay silence. Maybe. Emerson couldn’t remember the last time he’d watched a baseball game. Something about the slow rhythm of it was lulling him into some kind of peaceful liminal space. Maybe they could just watch the baseball game together and go to sleep and everything would be back to normal in the morning. Luca hadn’t mentioned it; Emerson hadn’t mentioned it. They could move on.
Except—
Emerson had fucked up. Luca was saving his ass with his extra help on the farm. He deserved a boss who was responsible enough to at least apologize.
“Luca,” he started. “About yesterday.”
Emerson straightened from his relaxed position on the couch. Rested his elbows on his knees, hands clasped between them.
“I’m sorry. I got carried away, obviously, in a situation I never should have started in the first place. And the way I left?—”
“Emerson,” Luca interrupted his apology. “Can we not?”
Emerson frowned. “I kind of feel like we have to. It was entirely inappropriate. I’ve—” He shook his head at himself. “I’ve never done that kind of thing before, and I promise to never do it again. I really appreciate what you’re doing for me by helping out with the farm, and I…want you to feel safe here.”
A long moment stretched. It wasn’t comfortable anymore; every call and observation made by the commentators on TV grated against Emerson’s brain. He thought he’d done an okay job, apology wise, but maybe Luca was still upset. Maybe he’d just need some time to get over it, to look at Emerson the same again.
