Page 34 of Teasing

She worries her pouty pink bottom lip between her teeth and laughs a pitifully forced laugh. “It’s fine... I’m fine...” she tries to convince herself and me. Pretty sure it doesn’t work for either of us. “We’re all going to be fine. I’m sorry about this.”

“Em...” I want to tell her she can tell me. Want to demand she open up, but who the fuck am I to demand anything like that? “I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

She reaches up and flattens her delicate hand against my pec, then smooths my shirt as she drags it down my chest. “I appreciate it, Maverick. But you can’t help me. I’m supposed to be helping you.” She takes a few steps back as if getting somespace between us will fix everything, then twirls her long hair up and tucks it into a bun on top of her head in what I’ve learned is an almost nervous habit. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

A fake as fuck mask slides in place on her face, and I hate it.

I want the real Emmie back.

The one who smiles or cries.

Jesus. I just want her.

“I’m not fired, am I?”

It’s like I just took a hit from a 320-pound offensive tackle with the way that thought assaults me. No second-guessing it. It’s there, and it’s strong. And it’s why I say what I do. Because I have to. It has to be this way. Goddamn, I’m an asshole.

“No, you’re not fired.” I debate my next words. Rethink them for all of sixty seconds. But when I stand there, wanting nothing more than to take this woman back in my arms and spend the next twenty-four hours lost in her, I know I’m doing the right thing. “I actually wanted to see if you were available to babysit tomorrow night.”

“Oh.” Her mouth pops open, clearly shocked before she schools her features, and she goes back to packing her art bag and not looking at me.

Great.

This shit shouldn’t be this hard.

“Do you have a game already?” she asks, glancing up quickly before busying herself.

Wouldn’t she know if Camden had a game?

Something’s not right with Emmie’s family.

She won’t talk about her dad, barely mentions her sister, and Camden and she seem more like roommates than siblings. I don’t know enough about her, but I’m not sure how to fix that without digging a bigger ditch to bury myself in.

“No. No game. Friends are going into the city to see a band, and they asked me to go. I don’t really feel like it, but I kind of owe them. First preseason game is next Thursday. It’s on the schedule I sent you. That will be a late night, so if you don’t want to do tomorrow?—”

“Sure. Go. I’ve got Rosie. Just text me what time.” She nibbles her lips and slides her bag over her shoulder. “Tell the guys I said bye.”

Why the hell does her easy acceptance bother me?

And why does watching her walk out my door bother me even more?

Emmie

“Hey, you hungry?” The scent of grease and carbs assaults me as Camden looks up from the kitchen table once I’ve let myself in the back door. “I picked up burgers and fries from The Busy Bee on my way home.”

I look at the take-out boxes and ignore the way my stomach growls. “Aren’t you supposed to be eating healthy?”

Camden takes a bite of his burger and pushes a box my way. “Meal delivery service starts tomorrow. Look at it like a last meal.”

“That’s morbid,” I mumble but eye his food. Maybe eating my emotions will make this day better. I pick at one of Camden’s fries and dip it in his ketchup. “But then again, my whole day has been messed up. I guess it’s fitting.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks around a mouth full of burger.

“That’s disgusting. Chew your food with your mouth closed.”

“Eat your own fries,” he taunts, and for a minute I forget my crappy, confusing day and smile, remembering how many times we had this conversation growing up.

I pull my phone from my pocket and snap a pic of my brother, wanting to capture the memory.

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