“Emma.” I push her behind me not knowing how Seth and Brian will react to her stunt. I look over my shoulder to meet her eyes. “That was so stupid.”
“Don’t call me stupid, William Jacobs.” Her hand resting on her hip with defiance is almost enough to make me smile. But I have to make sure there will be no retaliation.
“You need to go home.”
“No.” She’s constantly pushing limits.
“Please, I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“My daddy will whoop their butts if they hurt me.”
“Yes, he will, but you’ll still be hurt. Please.” I beg.
“Come over to my house. Nana is having dinner with us and wants you there.”
“Okay…” I say through gritted teeth, just wanting her to get home. Safe.
“Be careful.”
“Go.” I’m trying not to yell at her, but Brian is helping Seth out of the water, and I know they will want revenge and won’t care if it’s against a girl almost two years younger than them.
I hear her grab her stuff and the twigs breaking under her feet as she retreats. I sigh in relief and notice Seth and Brian with fire in their eyes walking up the dock.
“Leave her alone.”
“What are you going to do?”
I have no clue. This is foreign territory to me, but it’s been on the horizon for a while.
“Leave.Her.Alone.”
“One day you won’t be around to protect her.” I see red. I don’t remember swinging my fist, but I sure as hell feel my back slam against the hard ground, and the weight of both of them climbing over me is enough to make me gasp for air. A few punches and they get up allowing me to inhale and choke on air. “Be careful which side you pick, Will.”
I feel the blood running from my nose and watch them walk away chuckling. Sitting up hurts, and I know I’ll be in trouble for fighting, but I don’t care. They were going to hurt Emma this time, and I couldn’t let it happen. I slowly walk to the edge of the lake and splash my face with water, hoping I got rid of all the blood. Packing up my stuff, I head home. There’s a note taped to the door when I reach home, ‘Come across the street, we are all waiting on you.’ I was hoping to change and clean up first, but that’s not happening.
I leave all my stuff and walk across the street with my head hung. As soon as I open the door, Nana Nichols calls for me. “William, get over here and give me a hug. It’s been forever since I’ve had my arms around you.”
As I make my way over, she adjusts her glasses and stares. Reaching out, she tilts my face up and turns it side to side. “What happened to you?” Everyone’s attention is on me.
My dads are in front of me, Emma pushing through them, questions being shouted over one another.
“It was Seth and Brian, wasn’t it?”
“Are you okay?”
“Where does it hurt?”
“Who started it?”
A loud, piercing whistle breaks through the noise, and I peer over everyone’s heads to see Luke, Mr. Nichols, staring at me.
“Give him some space, and let him tell us what happened. First, are you okay, William?” I like Emma’s father a lot, and right now, I’ve never been so grateful for anyone.
“Yes, sir. I’m fine. Sore, but not hurt.”
He nods. “What happened?”
“Daddy, it was my fault.” Emma’s voice is sad, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, William.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” I reassure her. I don’t like seeing her upset.
“Emma, what are you talking about?” Phoebe places an ice pack against my eye while wiping my nose with her other hand.
“It’s nothing. Just a misunderstanding.” I try to cover for her.
“No, that’s not true. Seth and Brian were at the dock, and they were saying mean things. Being stupid like always. I pushed Seth in the lake.”
“Emma,” Phoebe starts to get on her.
“Phoebe Nichols, hush,” Nana tells her.
“What else happened, son?” James takes over holding the ice pack against my face.
“Well, I know they don’t care that Emma is a girl. They would hurt her. I made her go home, and they didn’t like it.”
“So they hit you.”
“After I hit them.” Nana chuckles, and Brett steps in front of me.
“Why would you hit them?”
“They threatened Emma. Said one day I wouldn’t be there to protect her. I made sure they didn’t touch her.”
“I’m going to their house and talking to their parents.” Brett is gearing up for a hissy fit.
“No!” I look at Emma, pleading with her to help me.
“Uncle Brett, please don’t do that. It was my fault.”
“They can’t go around hitting people, Emma. Come on Brett, I’ll go with you.” Phoebe is pulling my dad to the door.
“I hit them first,” I blurt; probably not something I should remind them of.
“Everyone stop.” Luke steps forward. “Nobody is going anywhere. Let’s chalk this up to a lapse in judgment. William knows not to use his fists, and Emma, you don’t push people in water.”
“But . . .”
“No reason. Ever.” His look and tone shuts her up. I need to learn that. “Everyone go clean up for dinner.”
I turn to leave, and he holds my arm. “Give me a minute, William.” I nod at him, trembling in fear. “You leave anything out of that story?” I shake my head no. “Why did Emma push him in the water? I know my daughter is feisty, but something isn’t adding up.”
I don’t want to say it. “Nothing, sir. She was just in a mood.”
“You know I love you, but I will tan your hide if you lie to me again.”
I can’t look at him. “They were making fun of me not having parents.”
“You do have parents.” He’s confused.
“Not a mom and dad.” I spell it out for him.
“Shit!” he slips that word out not caring that Phoebe will smack him if she overhears him cussing. “That’s never bothered you before.”
“It doesn’t bother me now.”
“Then why’d Emma do what she did?”
I shrug my shoulders. I don’t want to admit I’m ashamed of the things my friends say. I love Brett and James. They’re the best parents I could have asked for. They gave me a home when my own mom didn’t want me, but not everyone sees us as normal, and when kids say things, I don’t know how to respond.
“I’ll talk to her. Go get washed up.” I hurry to the bathroom to escape any more questions.
I hear Nana say, “Oh boy, Luke, you’re gonna have your hands full.”
“What do you mean, Mom?”
“This has Luke and Phoebe written all over it. There wasn’t anything you two wouldn’t do for each other growing up, and your little girl has a crush on that young man. I’d wager to say the feelings are mutual.”
“They’re kids, Mom. Emma is only going to be ten and William almost twelve.”
“When did you know you loved Phoebe?”
“I don’t remember not loving that woman.”
“Exactly.”
I feel bad for eavesdropping but can’t help but grin. Emma Nichols has a crush on me. She appears from nowhere. “I’m so sorry. Does it hurt?”
“Nah,” I lie. “Don’t apologize. I’d do it all over again for you, Ems.”
I see her grin. “Ems?”
“Yeah.”
“I like it.”
“Good.” We stand in silence for a few seconds until the adults holler for us to come eat.
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
&nb
sp; 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.
Embracing Emma (Companion to Brisé) Page 2