Page 49 of Bad Decisions

There was so much more that went into it than I realized. But I wouldn't ask for help. I could do this. Ineededto do it.

I glanced at my check-list on the table beside me. Bouncy house, ice cream bar, unicorn everything.

I sighed as I rubbed my forehead. What else did I need? Food? Probably. But kids didn't want real food at birthday parties. They wanted ice cream and cake. Parents wanted alcohol to deal with all the screaming kids.

The front door opened, and I stiffened. Shit. I zoned out so hard I totally forgot Reagan wasn't home.

Keys clanked in the dish by the front door, then there was a slight shuffling as she walked across the floor. My heart rate picked up as I braced myself. Would she ignore me and go to her room? Or would she come in here and check on me? Did I want her to do that?

Fuck. I did. I wanted to share this burden with someone. But not just anyone, her specifically. I wanted to lay my problems at her feet while she listened to me with that beautifully genuine sympathetic expression. Then I wanted to listen to her day's adventures. I wanted to know everything, and I wanted her to know everything.

I was so fucked.

Her dark head popped into the kitchen, and she smiled tiredly at me. "Hey," she said softly, her eyes scanning the table. I forced my lips up in a tight smirk.

"You look exhausted," I said, and she huffed out a laugh.

"I am." She tossed her purse on the table as she floated toward me, kicking her shoes off as she went. She slumped into the chair beside me and slouched back. "Lily is more tiring than Emma." I leaned back, draping my arm on the back of the chair.

"What did you two do?" I asked, and she shrugged.

"Went to the mall," she said.

"All day?" She gave me a sly grin.

"I took Lil to pick up her paycheck, then we watched the game with her dad and uncle."

"You like sports?" I asked, shocked, and she barked out a humorless laugh.

"God, no," she giggled. "But I liked the snacks. And baseball players have incredible asses."

"You did not just say that," I said, trying to hide my laugh. Her eyes sparkled with humor.

I felt lighter. And somehow, it felt like she was lighter too, like spending the day with her friend was exactly what she needed to get back to her old self.

"How's Em?" She ran her hand through her hair as she watched me.

"Still not feeling well." I grabbed my glass of water, but didn't lift it to my lips. I just needed to do something with my hands.

"I shouldn't have gone out today," she said, biting her bottom lip. My grip tightened on the glass. Everything in me wanted to tug her lip free, but I forced my hand to stay put. I couldn't keep touching her, even if I really fucking wanted to.

"You couldn't have done anything if you were here," I said softly. "We just watched her shows. Nothing exciting."

"It's always exciting when I'm around you," she breathed. Her face flushed red, and she sat up straighter. "I just meant—you always know how to make things exciting. And Emma—" Her words died as she stared back at me. That's how we stayed for a few heartbeats, just staring at each other.

So much tension filled the kitchen it felt like the air was going to snap.

"You make things exciting too, angel," I whispered. "We missed you today."

"Really?"

I hated how shocked she sounded. "Yes, really." I couldn't help it anymore. I reached out and rested my hand over hers, gently squeezing. Her eyes fluttered shut as she took a deep breath.

"Elliot," she breathed, barely audible, "we can't." I both loved and hated when she called me Elliot. I was always Eli to her. Elliot felt like I was something more.

She finally opened her eyes, and her gaze met mine again. So many unsaid words swirled in the hazel color. I wanted to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling, what she truly wanted. Maybe it would help me know what I wanted, too.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sliding her hand out from under mine. I roughly cleared my throat and dropped my hand back to my lap before looking at the laptop.

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