A self-deprecating huff that wasn’t quite a laugh, even if his mouth was curved in the shape of a supposed smile.
“I don’t know—” Emerson stopped himself, shook his head. Picked up his sewing again. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
Shit.
Luca searched his brain for something to say. Some way to help.
“You’re getting money from Ben and Alexei, right? For the wedding?”
“Yeah, but.” A small sigh. “Not much. One, because they’re my friends, and two, because they’re really just renting the space. They’re bringing all the other amenities—chairs, food, DJ, all of it. I honestly felt weird about the amount I did ask for, but Jay insisted it was the minimum I should charge. I’ve been fooling myself, though, thinking it would help save me somehow. Even with Ben and Lex’s money, on top of everything else…it’ll help me last another month, maybe, in the end. I don’t know.”
Luca had been slowly wiggling his toes under Emerson’s ass, but now he stilled.
“Are you…do you really think you’ll lose this place?”
Another sigh, heavier this time.
“I don’t know. I’m bringing in more money than I did my first few years but the costs are eating up any profit faster and faster, and it’s all harder to make work without Jayden. My spreadsheets are—fuck, it’s embarrassing to say out loud. I’ve been relying on credit cards for years but now that those are maxed out and my credit’s obliterated, I can’t get any more or qualify for a loan, so—nothing adds up. I haven’t been able to afford this place since I bought it, but now I can’t hide from the truth anymore.”
Luca’s heart thumped against his chest.
He knew Emerson had talked about the farm being in trouble since the literal minute they’d met, but—somehow, it hadn’t seemed real to Luca until now.
“There has to be something we can work out.”
His panic wasn’t just for Emerson, but for himself. Luca cared about this place now. He was just starting to really understand it, the rhythms of it, how much fucking work went into every single item of food we ate. Somehow, at the same time, he was writing more than he had in years. Even though he’d promised himself he would stop. Which was weird, and he didn’t quite know what to do with it; he was trying not to think too hard about it. But he felt—god, he feltgoodhere. Like his dream of a fresh start was actually fucking happening.
If he had to slink back to the boats, he didn’t—he wasn’t sure if he’d recover.
“I’ll probably have to get rid of Jansel,” Emerson said so quietly that Luca wasn’t sure if he was even talking to Luca anymore, or just to himself. “And Sally. And those fucking goats. But Daisy would never forgive me for Sally, and I’d never forgive myself for Jansel. Except the only way my business plan actually works is if I increase production to the levelit needs to be, and that requires morelabor, so it doesn’t—” Emerson shook his head again, both the movement and his words still quiet but angry now, restrained but agitated. “None of it fuckingworks.”
His fingers, previously cradling Moomoo’s neck, turned to fists, twisting the fabric in an only slightly more controlled way than his daughter had done earlier. Luca was already sitting up, giving up the fight against holding himself back from moving closer, so he saw Emerson’s wince up close, the slight hiss of in-taken breath.
“Hey,” Luca said. “Hey.”
Emerson held up a finger. A small pinprick of blood bloomed from the center of the pad where he’d stabbed himself.
“Well,” he said, laughing a little. “Probably deserved that.”
Before he could think too hard about it, Luca grabbed the finger and stuck it inside his own mouth. Held his tongue firm against the wound.
Emerson and Luca’s eyes met. Emerson’s turned dark, but they also steadied, the stress lines of his face evening out. His mouth, those lips, suddenly soft again.
“You’ve helped, Luca,” he said after a moment, voice soft still, but in a way that made Luca ache. “You being here has helped so much.”
Luca had a hard time fully believing it. He just did what Jansel told him to in the fields, made occasional trips into town for deliveries for Emerson. But each day went by surprisingly fast; there was always so much more to do. Luca was proud of what he did each day on the farm; he was happy here. But he still felt like a very small cog in a big wheel.
How Emerson was looking at him, though. How Luca was sure he was looking back. That he understood.
He wanted to do more than hold Emerson’s finger in hismouth. He wanted to lean forward and make every single worry in Emerson’s head disappear. With his hands, his mouth, his body, however he could, for as long as he could. As he’d promised to do, in this same exact spot, over a week ago. A week that felt like forever. He wanted to fulfill that promise in a way he’d never felt before, wanted to dedicate his body to it like it was a professional sport and Luca was the most valuable player, until all of Emerson’s senses were blown apart and he could only understand pleasure.
But Daisy was in the house. Only a short distance away.
And Luca had made that promise, too.
Slowly, he slid his lips away from Emerson’s fingertip. His tongue missed the salt of Emerson’s skin, the tiny ping of copper from his injury, immediately.
Emerson released a long, quiet breath, still holding their eye contact.
