Embracing Emma (Companion to Brisé) (3 page)

That day was a lot of firsts for me. First time I got my ass beat. And the last.

First time I realized Emma was my future.

First time I admitted I didn’t know what to do with the feelings I had about my parents.

First time I realized I’d do anything to protect Emma.

So many firsts that began and ended with Emma.

Chapter Three

Emma

6 years later

I run my fingers against the weathered boards of the dock, waiting for William to get here. His stupid football training is putting a damper on our summer. Every freaking morning he has to report to the high school for drills, weight training, and whatever else they deem necessary. If it weren’t for the assholes that are always around him, I’d more than likely be sitting in the bleachers admiring the view, but I can’t stomach those fools. I have no clue why he does, but that’s one thing that remains a bone of contention amid us.

This last year we were finally back in the same school, and things couldn’t have been more perfect. When I was going into middle school and he was entering high school, our lives, while still connected, were strained. Regardless of who tried to take his time and attention from me this past year, they failed. We were back in sync . . . now if I could just get him to admit we should really
be together
. I’m tired of the friends act. It’s apparent to anyone with a working set of eyes that we love each other. I’m ready to take the bull by the horns if he doesn’t hurry up.

I feel him before I see him. The air thickens, my senses are hyper-aware, and his cologne gives him away. I’ve bought the damn bottle and sprayed it on my pillow, but it doesn’t hold the same allure as it does when he wears it. Mixed with his natural scent, it creates something addictive. My body craves it without knowing what it would feel like. Sure I’ve had the hugs, circled in his arms, the chaste hand holding when he is leading me somewhere . . . but I want it all. Without reservations.

“Hey Ems.” He drops down to the dock by my side.

“It’s about time.”

“Someone is grumpy today.” He winks at me. Damn him for being so perfect—from his dark hair styled to perfection in the Georgia heat down to his swarthy skin tone. It reminds me of a light mocha. It begs me to caress it. During the summer as his skin becomes sun-kissed, his diverse Latin ethnicity is noticeable. His mom was from Honduras. Nobody has any information about his biological father, but I have to admit they made a beautiful child, and I’m thankful Brett and James got him when his mom discarded him. I watch his dimple play hide and seek just like his smirk.

“I’m not grumpy, just tired of waiting for you.”

“Oh, you wound me. I’d wait forever for you.”

“I’m right here.”

“That you are, and we’ll get to that. Tell me what’s bothering you.” I’m silent because so many things are going through my mind. Change can be good, but William doesn’t adapt to any variance in his schedule. Is that the hold up? I’ve always been able to tell him anything and everything, but something is off today with me, and I don’t know how to explain it to him. I’m irritable, but it’s not all about him. Or me. Or the non-existent us. “Shit, Ems. I totally forgot.” He studies my face, and just like that, he figures me out without me having to spell it out for him.

“It’s alright. I know things will be fine. She’s been healthy for years.” He scoots closer and throws his arm across my shoulders, silently encouraging me to lean into him.

Absorb his comfort.

Relax in his strength.

Protected.

“It never gets easier.” He’s right about that. Today is another check-up for my mom. She went every year until I was eleven—that was more my dad’s doing and not the medical advice. She finally got him to agree that a five-year protocol was safe. My mom had childhood leukemia with a reoccurrence when she seventeen, and it’s a taboo subject in my house. We walk on eggshells for weeks leading up to her appointments. My dad is anxious and on edge, so we try not to escalate his demeanor. He’s neurotic when it comes to her health, but I love him all the more for it.

“No, it doesn’t. I don’t know what it was like for her, but I get so scared. What if she comes home and tells me it’s back?”

“Ems, we’ve studied the cases and percentages. You know that is highly unlikely. She’s been almost twenty years in remission. Believe in that.”

“I know. Everything you say makes sense, but it doesn’t ease my fear.”

“This is the first year you really understand it. The unknown is what we fear the most.”

“Not for me.”

“Well, wise one, what makes you say that?”

“I have no idea how it feels to kiss you, and it doesn’t scare me. I don’t dread it, I crave it.” I watch him swallow, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and hear him exhale.

“About that . . .” He stares at my lips, back to my eyes, my lips. His head dips down, and before I feel his lips on mine, twigs are snapping, hoots are hollering, and his crew arrives.

“Hey Jacobs, you aren’t a faggot after all. You’re out here scoring with our own Emma.” Fucking Brian. His twin, Seth, a few other guys, and some girls, follow him. All watching in horror.

“What did you just say?” I hope he didn’t use the word I think he did, I must have misheard because William is still sitting down and not slaughtering him.

“He’s tried to fool us. We were wondering if he was gonna be like his
daddies
, but here he’s been fucking you all along.” William gets to his feet and steps into Brian’s space.

Their voices are too low for me to hear, but I see the rigidity in William’s shoulders, his fists clenching at his side, and I know there will be blood shed soon.

The other guys snicker, and William turns back to me. “Let’s go.” His tone is terse, no room for argument.

I stomp past him and flip the guys off as they continue to make crude remarks. “Go fuck yourself.”

“We’d rather have a go at you when Jacobs is done.” I turn just as William punches him. The tables have turned. Six years ago William wasn’t the size he is now. His muscles didn’t flex and bow like they did as he threw that right hook into Brian’s cheek.

None of the crowd says or does anything as William strides away and grabs my hand, pulling me to follow. I jerk my hand from his, pissed at him as well as his choice in friends. What those guys said is not okay. He knows it, and instead of defending me, he should have defended those remarks. “Not cool, William.”

“Not now, Emma.” He grabs my hand, clasping it firmly, and pulls me to the parking lot where his truck is waiting. “Get in.”

“No. I’ll walk.”

“Get in the damn truck, Ems. Let me get you home in case they come looking for you. Or me.” I roll my eyes as I relent to his command. I slam his door to prove a point, and now he’s rolling his eyes at me. Not a word is spoken between us as he makes the one-minute trip down to our houses. Pulling into his driveway, he turns the car off and faces me. “Don’t go near them.”

“I could demand the same of you.” I should. I’m not that girl who gives ultimatums, and even if I were, right now I don’t know what his choice would be. There is a part of him I don’t understand or really even know—a part he doesn’t reveal to anyone, and that scares me more than having him. The part I don’t know, the chunk he holds separate, is the portion that can destroy him.

Me.

Us.

Chapter Four

William

This isn’t how I planned this night. I didn’t think Seth and Brian would show up and interfere with my plans to officially make Emma mine. She’s always been my best friend, my compass, my shelter in the storm . . . now I need her to be my girl. My better half. Her sixteenth birthday is tomorrow, and I went to Luke last week to make sure that was still the rule. Sixteen is the age she’s allowed to date. We’ve been inseparable our entire lives, and it’s evident there has been something brewing between us, that elusive feeling that we are meant for more, but I wanted to wait until I could do this the correct way. I didn’t want to be a couple when I wasn’t able to take her out, show her she can be secure in the knowledge there is nowhere else I’d rather be. I could have skipped the parties, the nights out with friends, but it would have added another layer of animosity. That added hostility would have come from my crew because while I waited for her, I didn't touch anyone else, but if I had refused to hang because she couldn’t, it would have upped the ante on their shenanigans. Other than kissing during games at parties, I didn’t have the desire to go further . . . I was afraid it would taint what could be for us. In my group of friends, being nearly eighteen and still a virgin leaves room for a lot of taunting. They seem to hit me where it hurts the most . . .

My parents are gay, so of course they say I am. I hate that comparison, because I support my parents, the love they have, but the stereotypical bullshit spewed about homosexuality pisses me off. I feel guilt, shame, and like a sell-out because I don’t defend them. It’s easier to keep my mouth shut, let my friends say what they do, but it’s going to come to a head because Emma hates that shit and doesn’t hide it. The frustration of feeling like a coward for not taking a stand and being pissed at her for having an opinion that she knows nothing about is pushing my resolve, and it’s an issue we won’t find a common ground with.

I don’t begrudge her the parental units she has or the childhood with security that went with it; hell, mine’s been a carbon copy . . . except I was given away, not wanted by my biological parents. Tossed into the trash. I cling to a deep-seated sense that I’m not worthy, and that doesn’t disappear.

God, I hope she says yes. I glance over to her after I’ve turned the truck off, and I know she’s spoiling for a fight. Eyes burning, they turn the clearest shade of blue when she’s pissed. Almost translucent. That’s my girl—my spitfire. Full of passion. It’s a beautiful sight.

“I have no clue why you’re friends with those bumbling idiots.” Another thing I love about my Ems, she doesn’t mince words.

I sigh. This isn’t exactly how I wanted to start this conversation. “You know we’re on the football team together. It’s just easier to keep the peace.” I shortchange the entire meaning—the fact my life would be a living hell, and I’m afraid of retaliation. Those are some mean sons of bitches.

“Yeah, be a sheep and keep following, William Jacobs. You’re better than that hate-filled crap. It makes me sick.”

“Ems, can we change the subject? This always causes a fight.” I fidget in the seat trying to hide the truth and feeling unease in lying to her. She’d be the first to psychoanalyze me and coddle my feelings. Fuck that, it’s embarrassing.

“Because you are wrong and hate to admit it.” Her sweet smile isn’t fooling me. She could spar all day, and I’d never know who won the war of words.

“So your birthday is tomorrow.” I broach a subject sure to make her take notice.

“Yep, and you better not have been cheap. You should indulge me. It’s not every day I turn sixteen.”

“Still the same plans?” Every year she refuses a birthday party. Her actual day is just dinner with my parents and hers. The day after she may go to the movies or whatever with friends, but for as long as I can remember, the celebration is always the same, and it ends with us at the dock.

She rolls her beautiful ice eyes at me. “Yes.”

“I thought we could change it up a bit.” I tilt my chin up at her, masking the flutters running through my body.

She scrunches her nose at me and shakes her head. “Don’t mess with my tradition.” Fuck! Here come the sweaty palms. I have to think on the fly because she is so damn stubborn.

“I’d like to start a new one.” She goes to open her mouth, and I interrupt. “Hear me out, Ems. We can do cupcakes and presents then dinner,” I hesitate, letting the nerves get the best of me.

“My parents won’t go for the dessert before dinner. We tried that for my thirteenth birthday.”

You have to have the patience of Job to deal with her. She can’t just go with it. My planner, my over-thinker, my destructor of spontaneity.

“I’ve talked to your dad.” Her eyes grow wide, causing me to fumble. “I thought doing the dessert first would leave more time for us to go to dinner. Alone.”

“Like a date?” I see her dimples before her lips turn up.

“Exactly like a date.” I feel the nerves slowly leave my body, and unwavering desire takes its place.

Her cheeks tinge red, lifting as her lips upturn into the biggest grin.
My
smile. “Yes,” she says while nodding her head. I didn’t realize the tension I’ve been carrying for days until I feel how loose my shoulders become, my arms automatically wanting to reach for her.

“You pick wherever you want to go.”

“You suck at dates. Aren’t you supposed to plan them?”

I take a deep breath. This girl is challenging. “And you’re the expert?”

“Nope, you’d be my first, but oh worldly one, you should be prepared.”

“Ems . . .” Her giggle makes me chuckle and forget how trying she can be.

“One request.”

“Anything,” and I mean it. I’m determined to make every dream of hers come true.