by J. L. Perry
She stirs, lifting her head and gazing up at me. She has the sweetest sleepy face. “Hey, what time is it?”
“Just after eight.”
I lean down to kiss her, but she quickly turns her head away. “Uh-uh, I have morning breath.”
Grasping her face in my hands, I turn her head back to me. Holding her in place, my lips land on hers. “I don’t care if your breath smells like ass, I’m still going to kiss you.”
I get a pang in my heart when I say that. That’s exactly how I described Duke’s.
Christ, I’m even going to miss his ass breath.
Emma gives me a small smile as she sits up and rubs her eyes, but when she looks down beside her, where Duke slept in-between us last night, her face drops. It’s at that moment I know she’s just remembered he’s gone. That sleep induced haze is something I’m familiar with. When you first wake and for a brief moment, everything seems right with the world, then realization seeps in and the pain in your chest returns. I live this every day.
Leaning in, I envelop her in my arms. “They’re downstairs ready to take him, I thought you’d want to say goodbye.”
“Please.”
Standing, I reach for her hand. After helping her up, I place a kiss on her forehead. I’ll give you a few moments to change. We’ll be downstairs when you’re ready.”
“Thank you.”
There’s trepidation on her face as she descends the last few steps. Crossing the room, I meet her halfway, taking her hand in mine.
Duke’s now been moved onto the stretcher, the blanket still covers him, and the rose Rhonda had when she arrived is lying on top.
Emma’s hand comes to her mouth as soon as she spots him. Releasing me, she moves in his direction. All eyes are on her as she gets down on her knees, slowly pulling the blanket back. Tears are streaming from her eyes as she stares down at him.
“Oh, Duke… baby,” I hear her say as her shoulders shake. “I’m going to miss you so much. Thank you for allowing me to love you and for loving me back. I’ll never forget you. Never. Your paw print will forever remain on my heart. Fly high, my sweet boy.”
My gaze moves up to the ceiling as I try to blink the moisture from my eyes. When I look over at Chance, I see him run the back of his hand over his face.
“You need to do something about the damn bugs in here, Barclay. One just flew in my eye.”
Shaking my head, I release a small laugh.
Bug, my ass.
When she recovers him and stands, I move to her side and pull her into me. “Are you okay?” It’s a stupid question.
She nods nevertheless, wiping her eyes.
My little warrior.
I offer to help Rhonda with Duke, and Chance moves closer to Emma, wrapping her in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Em,” Chance says. “I know how close you two were.”
There’s a heavy feeling in my chest as Duke leaves this house for the last time. Things won’t be the same around here without him.
“Here, drink this,” I say to Emma, placing two-fingers scotch in front of her. She doesn’t hesitate in picking it up and bringing it to her lips. She downs most of it in one gulp before banging on her chest and coughing.
“Yuk. That’s awful.”
“It’s a five hundred dollar bottle of scotch, Emma. You’re supposed to sip it.”
“Five hundred dollars… for that? Well, they certainly saw you coming. Tastes like gasoline.”
Grayson and I both laugh. I guess it’s an acquired taste.
It’s late afternoon, and I asked Carla to bring over some clothes for Emma. I offered to take her there myself, but she said she didn’t feel like leaving the house. I can understand that. She’s been quiet all today, and I’m worried about her.
Carla’s eyebrows pinch together as she studies Emma. She’s concerned as well. Standing, she swipes the bottle and picks up Emma’s glass. “Let’s go sit by the pool, Em.”
I’m glad she’s here. I’m not good with shit like this.
“Make sure she takes it easy with that, she hasn’t eaten all day,” I call out as they leave the room.
I made her breakfast and lunch, but she just pushed the food around her plate. She’ll be eating dinner, even if I have to feed her myself.
“You two seem to be going well,” Grayson says.
I shrug. “I like having her around.”
“I’m glad. Despite what you think, Ash, you deserve happiness.”
“We’re just friends.”
“Right.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re more than friends, Barclay. You like her. When are you going to admit it?”
“We’re friends, and I like you. No difference.”
He laughs, shaking his head. “It’s been years since I’ve seen you this happy. Don’t fuck this up by getting inside your own head. She’s good for you.”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Sure, and only because of the dog. I’m not going to let you ruin this.”
Grayson knows me better than anyone, I’ll fuck it up eventually. It’s what I do. Right now, though, I’ve experienced enough loss for one day. I don’t want to think about losing Emma too.
“You didn’t tell Carla about us buying their apartment block, did you?”
“No, you asked me not to.”
“Good. Keep it that way. Emma will be angry if she finds out, and I don’t want her to be upset with me.”
“Because you like her.” Grayson cocks an eyebrow, but I ignore him. “I still can’t believe we bought that shit hole.”
I shrug. To be honest, I can’t believe it either, but it’s a small price to pay for peace of mind.
“Shit,” Carla says, giggling when she trips on the door runner and comes stumbling into the house. She sways as she regains her footing and looks over at us. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Christ, woman, are you drunk?” Grayson asks.
Carla holds up her thumb and forefinger, faintly opening them. “Just a smidge.”
He chuckles as he stands. “Here, let me show where it is before you fall over and break something.”
When he lifts her, throwing her over his shoulder, she squeals. He strides across the room, and I head out the back to check on Emma.
I find her on unsteady feet as she tries to make her way inside. “Ah, I was just coming to find you,” she says, slurring. Hiccup.
Taking a seat, I pull her down onto my lap. “How much did you drink?” I eye the bottle on the table and see it’s empty. Fuck. “I need to get some food into you.”
“I don’t want food,” she says, turning around to straddle my legs. “I want a kiss.” Hiccup.
When she closes her eyes and puckers her lips, I smile.
Hiccup.
I brush my mouth with hers, and she screws up her face opening one eye.
“That kiss sucked, I want a big smoocharoo.”
“A smoocharoo?”
“I think it’s Australian slang.” Hiccup. “I’ve heard Chance ask Aubrey for a smoocharoo before.” Hiccup. “You know the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl?”
“I’m not sure if I’m capable of a toe-curling kiss.”
“Yes, you are, Mr. Barclay.” She pokes my chest. Hiccup. “You’ve curled my toes several times.”
“Is that so?”
Drunk Emma is cute.
“Ah-huh.” She stares at me for a moment before she runs her hands down the side of my face. “Do you know how sexy you are?” Hiccup. “Like seriously off-the-charts sexy. Actually, you’re more than sexy, you’re smexy.” Hiccup.
“Smexy? Is that even a word, Emma?”
“Yes, it is, and you, Ashton Barclay, have it in bucket loads. Hiccup. You’re the smexiest!” Hiccup. “God, I want to lick you… can I lick you?” Before I even get a chance to answer her, she runs her tongue up the side of my face. “Mmm… yummy.” Hiccup.
I laugh.
“God, I miss your orgasms.” Emma balls up her hands and places them eit
her side of her head. When she reopens them, she splays her fingers out wide mimicking an explosion. “Your orgasms blow my mind.” Hiccup. “Did you know that?”
“I do now,” I say, my smile widening. Her words are coming out like verbal diarrhea, but I’m thoroughly entertained.
“One day I’m going to fuck you, and you, my friend, are going to rock my world.” Hiccup.
Drunk Emma is also hot.
My cock goes instantly hard.
“Carla said I should ride your face.”
“Carla sounds very wise,” I say, chuckling.
“She’s the best. She’s my only friend in the whole wide world.” Emma blows out a puff of air. Hiccup. “I love her so much.” She bangs her fist over her heart as tears glisten her eyes. She dips her head, and I know it’s the alcohol making her emotional.
I lift her gaze back to mine, gently skimming my thumb across her cheek. “Hey, we’re friends, too.”
She closes her eyes and leans into my touch. Hiccup. “No, you’re my screw-buddy. Well, you will be when we finally fuck.”
Sweet Jesus.
She’s never been so open and upfront with me. I need to liquor her up more often.
“It’s fuck-buddy, Em… not screw-buddy.”
Hiccup. “Do you want to be my fuck buddy, smexy?”
I pull her lips down to mine.
If she weren’t so drunk, I’d show her just how much.
Drawing back, her eyes scan over my face as she runs her fingers through my hair. Hiccup. “I like you, Ashton Barclay… like really, really, like you. I’m trying not to let you into my heart…” hiccup, “… but I’m losing the battle.”
My stomach drops.
Why did she have to go and say that?
She can’t let me into her heart, and I can never let her into mine.
I need to put a stop to this before it gets out of hand.
Fuck!
Chapter Twenty-Five
EMMA
“Let me in, goddammit,” Carla calls out. “Emma, can you hear me?”
I glance at the clock and see it’s just after two in the morning. “Gah.” There’s a pounding in my head matching the one on the door, and my mouth feels as dry as the desert.
I bury my head under the pillow.
Knock, knock, knock.
“Open up.”
“Use your key.”
“I did, but you have that damn safety thing on.”
“Ugh.” Begrudgingly, I drag myself out of bed and slowly make my way to the front door. It’s pitch black, but I can see a small amount of light filtering in from the landing through the crack in the door.
“Hold on.”
“Hurry up, I’m dying here.”
“Makes two of us.”
My eyes widen when I take in Carla’s disheveled appearance. Her usual immaculate self has been replaced by someone who looks like she’s been dragged out of a trash can, then run over by a truck. Repeatedly.
“You look like death.”
“And you look fucking green,” she retorts, shoving me out of the way and heading toward the kitchen.
I release a small laugh, but even that hurts my head.
I feel green.
She starts opening and closing the cupboard doors before moving to the drawers. “Ugh. I need some Tylenol…” She waves her hands around. “Help me here.”
“They’re in the basket on top of the fridge,” I say, turning and heading back to bed. A few minutes later, I crack an eye open when I feel a dip in the mattress.
“Move over.”
“What? You don’t share beds with people.”
“I know,” she says, climbing in and laying her head on the pillow. Shes groans as she pulls the blankets up around her chin. “But, I don’t want to die alone.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“I feel like I am.”
“Yeah, me, too. I’m never drinking scotch again.”
“I never drinking again, period,” she replies. “I’m surprised you’re even here. I thought you’d be spending the night at Ashton’s again.”
“I don’t remember much after the scotch, but I think I may have told him I want to fuck him. It’s all kind of hazy.”
I cringe at the thought.
What else did I say?
“Alcohol is like truth serum for you. You open up and say weird shit when you’re drunk. Things that are out of character for you.”
“I do not.”
“Yeah, you do. You’re always a good girl, Em, but when you’re drunk, your bad side tries to break free. I see glimpses of the devil on your shoulder.”
“God.” I cover my face with my hands.
“Did he fuck you?”
“No, I don’t think so. I vaguely remember him trying to get me to eat pizza, then bringing me home. The rest is a blur.” Shit, I hope I didn’t have sex with him. I slide my arm under the covers, placing my hand between my legs and pressing down. “I’m not tender,” I say.
“Did you just touch your kooch?”
“I have underwear on.”
She snickers from beside me.
“He probably thinks I’m a slut.”
“You’re far from a slut, Emma. Besides, guys like that shit… an angel in public and whore in the bedroom. Maybe it was safer for him to bring you here, rather than risking taking advantage of you while you’re drunk.”
“Maybe.”
“Do you want to hear something weird?”
“What?”
“Grayson told me he loved me yesterday.”
“Wow. Jesus, that’s huge. What did you do?”
“I kind of freaked out, then I cried. Fuck. I’m such a girl sometimes.”
“I hate to break it to you, but you are a girl.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“I don’t know… I think so. I’ve never felt this strongly for a guy before, but I’m scared.”
“Why are you scared?”
“Because we were having fun, enjoying each other. Then he had to go and complicate things.”
“Telling someone you love them doesn’t complicate things?”
“Yes, it does. Now feelings have come into play, I don’t know… it changes everything.”
“How?”
“Because my heart’s on the line now.” She sighs. “What if I lose him, Em? He’s the only other person, aside from you, to say those words to me.”
I gasp. “I was the first person to say I love you?”
“Y-yes,” she whispers into the dark. I can’t see her face, but I don’t miss the crack in her voice.
That knowledge hurts my heart. My dad told me he loved me daily.
God, her parents suck.
I reach for her hand under the blankets, wrapping my fingers around hers.
“Please tell me that’s not the hand you were just feeling yourself up with?”
“No,” I say, giggling.
“Good.”
“I’ll always love you. You know that, right?”
She squeezes my hand. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad Grayson loves you, too. You deserve all the love, Car.”
It’s Friday and five days post-Duke. My heart still aches for him, but I’m thankful he’s at peace. For the past six months, I’ve visited him every day. I feel lost without him. I know he’s in a better place, but his companionship and unconditional love is something I’m truly going to miss.
I’ve barely heard from Ashton, apart from an occasional text checking in to make sure I’m okay. Apparently, he’s been busy at work, so he claims, but I still can’t shake the feeling he’s blowing me off.
We bonded during our time with Duke, and now I feel like he’s distancing himself from me. I want to ask him if there’s something I said or did to upset him, but the truth is I’m scared to hear his answer.
I feel like I’ve lost them both.
It’s late afternoon, and I’m getting
ready to leave work when a text comes through.
My ridiculously hot friend: Hi Emma. Duke’s ashes came back today. Thought you’d want to know.
Emma?
No Em.
No sweet-thing.
Sweet-thing: Can I see him? Only if that’s okay with you… no pressure.
My ridiculously hot friend: Of course you can come and see him. He was more yours than he was mine.
No, he was ours.
You said we were his family.
I sit back in my chair and ponder his reply. Does he want to see me? Has he missed me as much as I’ve missed him?
Sweet-thing: When would be a good time for you?
Minutes pass before another message comes through.
My ridiculously hot friend: I’m home now, so whenever.
Sweet-thing: Okay.
Before I leave, I slip into the bathroom at work, applying a fresh coat of lipstick and running a brush through my hair. I’m thankful I wore it down today.
On the drive to his place, I analyze the past week—the snippets I remember from my drunken escapade last Sunday, to my limited contact with him since, as well as the messages from earlier. By the time I pull up in front of his house, my stomach is in knots.
There’s also the reason I’m here—Duke’s ashes.
I’m not sure I’m ready to face that today.
Taking a deep breath, I grab my bag and climb out of the car. I press the intercom when I reach the front gate, and he buzzes me through without saying anything. By the time I reach the front door, he’s standing there waiting for me.
I swallow hard as I take him in.
I’ve missed his beautiful face.
“Hi.”
He barely makes eye contact with me. No lingering glances over my body, no pantie-melting smile. “Did you forget the code?”
“No, I remember it.” I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear.
“You didn’t have to buzz, Emma.” He sounds annoyed.
“It just felt like the right thing to do.”
Ashton gives me a sad smile before stepping back. “Come in.”
No hug.
No kiss hello.
My gut was right, things are off between us. They’re even worse than I thought.