Page 50 of The Double Play

His eyes drop to my mouth. My lips part in anticipation. He leans in a fraction. My toes curl in my sneakers.

“Pleasestay with me, Wildflower.” There’s a weighted quality to his voice that makes me think he’s not just talking about tonight.

I wet my lips. His eyes flash with something I’ve never seen in him before.

“Yes,” I whisper. “I’ll stay with you.” I hope he can tell the double meaning of my words because I’m not sure I’m brave enough to explain them.

The elevator chimes, making me jump. Emmett takes a swift step back as the doors slide open. He clears his throat and gestures for me to step out first. I’m afraid of moving from my spot against the wall. There’s a chance my legs give out after whateverthatwas.

I manage to push myself up off of the wall and walk down the hallway that leads to my apartment. We step side by side in silence. Did he feel what I felt? He had to, right? I shake off my questions. I’m about to see Raven for the first time since I left this morning. She’s going to meet Emmett, too. Under normal circumstances that wouldn’t be too big of a deal, but after all that she’s been through, I don’t want to overwhelm her. I texted her to warn her, but all I got back was a thumbs-up emoji.

We make it to my door and I put in the code to get in.

“People can hack these things easily,” Emmett points out.

I shoot him a look. “They can pick locks easily, too.”

“Fair.”

I shake my head, smiling as I open the door. We walk inside and my stomach flips. What will Emmett think of my decorating? It’s a lot different from his castle, not just in size but in the amount of color. Emmett’s home isn’t devoid of color, but if he lives in autumn, I live in spring. There’s a pastel floral rug in the entryway, and photos in thrifted frames of all colors and sizes hang on the wall. Ahead is the living room, where it looks like Raven is snuggled up on my tufted pink couch beneath a yellow blanket that I crocheted myself.

Raven looks over as we walk in. Her eyebrows raise at Emmett towering behind me. I’m sure she looked him up online when I told her about him after I first got hired, but that’s a lot different than seeing him in person. He tends to fill up a room both physically and through the way he carries himself.

“Raven, this is Emmett, my–” I cut off before I sayboss. After today that doesn’t feel like the best qualifier.

“Friend,” Emmett fills in. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Raven replies, her eyes flicking between us before settling on me. “I know you said he was coming over, but you didn’t give a lot of other details.”

I didn’t think that far ahead, but I wouldn’t look like a competent older sister if I said that.

“We were ironing out the details on the way here,” I say with a casual shrug, willing myself not to turn red at the thought of our talk on the elevator. “We’re going to stay at Emmett’s tonight. I need you to pack a bag.”

Her eyebrows shoot up further, hiding behind her brown bangs. “Oh-kay,” she drags out the word. “Did you see Mom?” She stands up, her oversized sweater hanging like a blanket draped over her, almost covering the hem of her shorts.

“I did. We can talk about it after you’ve packed your bag.”

I feel Emmett watching our interaction.

“Fine.” Another dragged-out syllable. She’s been extra fond of those lately. I thought we left that in middle school, but apparently, like Y2K fashion, it’s making a reappearance.

She walks to her room, leaving her blanket strewn half on the couch, half on the floor. Since she stays at my apartment so often, she has her own room here with clothes and whatever else she needs. It’s on the small side, but it’s better than the chaos at Mom’s or the deafening silence at Dad’s.

“I promise she’s not a total brat,” I say with a laugh as I grab the blanket and fold it. “Our relationship can be strained with me having to parent her instead of being her sister.”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” Emmett says from across the room.

He’s standing with his arms crossed, surveying the space the way I imagine a security guard would survey our complex–if we had one.

“I know, but it makes me feel better. I don’t want you to think poorly of us–of me.”

“I don’t.”

I smile at his to-the-point answer. “Good. Now, I need to pack my bag, but you can look around if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

I leave him in the living room, fighting the urge to follow him around and ask his opinion of every item he comes across. My bedroom is thankfully not in total disarray. It doesn’t come close to the pristine guest wing at Emmett’s, but I don’t look like a slob either. There’s a pile of clothes I haven’t made time to fold in a chair in the corner of my room, and my bedsheets are a disheveled mess from tossing and turning last night. Other than that, it looks all right. I wouldn’t be embarrassed if Emmett came in.

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