I blow out a breath. “He’s not different.” I pause, not knowing how to articulate what I’m feeling when it doesn’t make sense to me either.
I hang my head, looking at the paper bag with our lunches. When I lift it, Becky’s clicking her pen impatiently.
“We see plenty of people with shitty pasts. Emmett reminds me of Drake, and it’s hard to ignore. Helping him through this feels like helping myself somehow. I can’t really explain it, but I think he ended up here for a reason.”
It’s that simple. The universe is speaking to me and I’m listening.
Emmett shared a part of himself I suspect people don’t often see, so walking away now feels like turning my back on him. Under the attitude and stoic front, there’s a man that just needs someone—anyone—to try. And I get that more than most.
Then there’s the part I’m not ready to share.
I’m not special, but Emmett looks at me like I could be. Like he’d find me worthy without my title or making myself useful. It’s why I keep finding myself here, resting. He’s the first place I’ve ever felt safe justbeing.
“He’s not your brother, Aspen. Drake has demons of his own, but Emmett wears his pain like armor. Forget the fact that he’snot sticking around. Have you considered that he may not let you help?”
“I have to try.”
She shakes her head like I’m one of her kids and I’m about to do something stupid.
“Get him out of here. Cleo is coming down in an hour.”
“Shit.” Our social worker is incredible, but she could be a barrier to Emmett getting what he wants most—being discharged. If she doesn’t think he’s equipped to take care of himself during his recovery, things could get worse for him before they get better.
“Yeah, shit,” Becky echoes.
Grabbing a wheelchair and the bagged lunch from the cafeteria, I leave Becky to her paperwork and knock softly on Emmett’s door.
“Fucking Christ, again?” he grumbles. “Don’t know why you bother knocking, you never listen when I tell you to go away.”
“Hello to you, too,” I say, using my most cheerful nurse voice.
Remorse or something like it pulls his lips into a line as his eyes shift from the TV to me with recognition.
“Do you live here?”
“Certainly feels like it some days.”
His focus drops from me to the wheelchair and back. “Becky said I didn’t have anything until some care management lady comes down later.”
I move the wheelchair back and forth, unsure now that I’m face-to-face with Emmett’s scowl.
“Thisis not official business.”
Surprise lifts his brows. “What is it then?”
“An escape plan.”
If he wasn’t surprised before, he is now.
“Would you like to take a field trip with me?”
I swear to god there’s the hint of a dimple at the corner of his mouth. And it makes all of my nerves evaporate.
“Where to?” he asks.
“The courtyard.”
“Outside?” Carefully disguised excitement bleeds into his tone, like he doesn’t want to get his hopes up.
