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“Emmett, no. This isn’t a look of pity. This is a look of—well, I think it’s a look of concern. This is hard for me to admit, because dammit if you didn’t annoy the hell out of me when we first met, but I’ve surprisingly come to really—” I pause, choosing my words carefully and releasing a held breath. “likeyou.”
Emmett’s face changes with those words and the big goofy grin I’ve come to adore covers his entire face.
“You like me, huh?” he teases and moves his hands to my waist.
His thumb makes contact with skin because Madison’s shirt I’m wearing is shorter and tighter than I’m used to and has ridden up a little. The feel of his skin touching mine sends delicious shivers up my spine.
“You do, don’t you? Youreallylike me, don’t you?”
The mental fog his touch created clears with his continued teasing, and I groan.
“Nope,” I say, letting the p pop. “Not even a little bit.”
Emmett feigns hurt, gasping and placing a hand over his heart, and I can’t help but let the laughs escape me. My laughter turns to surprised squeals when Emmett grabs me by the waist and pulls me onto the bed to lie next to him. He buries his face in my loose hair near my neck as he tickles my sides.
“Okay, okay. Yes, I like you,” I shout as I attempt to push him off.
Emmett releases me, but we both remain lying on the bed, only a few inches of space between us.
“You can tell me about it now,” I say.
Half of Emmett’s mouth turns up, but the crooked smile doesn’t reach any higher and I panic.
“Only if you want. You don’t have to if you don’t—”
Emmett shuts me up by wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me to him. Our bodies crash against one another from chest to toes. Our legs naturally intertwine. My head rests against his chest, his chin resting on the top of my head. I can feel his heartbeat, loud and booming and fast. After a few moments, it slows to a normal rhythm. Without looking at me, Emmett tells me everything.
He tells me about the symptoms he had before he knew. The memories he has of the day he was diagnosed. His voice gets quieter when he tells me about having to tell his little sister. When he talks about the new trial treatment and the improvements they’ve seen his voice gets stronger.
We lay there for a long time, wrapped in each other in a way I never thought I’d ever feel comfortable. But with Emmett, it feels so natural, so normal. It feels as if this is something we do all the time. As if we’ve been holding each other in this way for a lifetime.
We lay there and talk for hours. Him telling me every excruciating detail about the past few months of his cancer diagnosis. I tell him every painful memory of the life I abandoned, hopefully for good, only a day ago. We don’t even look at each other as we talk, but I can feel his expressions. I can feel Emmett’s emotions in his voice and the rhythm of the circles he draws on my back with his fingers.
The conversation flows as it had when we’d spend hours on top of the water tower. That same feeling I got up there, as if we were the only two people in the world, I get lying here with him now. I still ache for the feeling of looking out at the town at night from the tower, but being in Emmett’s arms is a nice substitute.
The longer we lay here and the more connected to Emmett I feel, the more I know in my heart the church is wrong. They’re wrong for ever making me feel like I shouldn’t have feelings like I’m having now. Especially not feelings for someone who wasn’t chosen for me. They were wrong for making me believe that I, as a woman, needed to cover my body to protect men. I needed to cover not only the more private areas but the completely innocent ones like my shoulders, thighs, collarbones. When in reality, men should be responsible for themselves and their own objectification of women.
The church was wrong for making me feel less than my entire life for wanting to learn, and grow and—live.
Chapter twenty-one
Emmett
Wemusthavefallenasleep at some point because I woke up alone in the bed and I can see the darkness outside the open barn doors. I untangle myself from the sheets and instinctively grab the beanie on the nightstand but stop short of putting it on. I turn the fabric over in my hands a few times and rub the short hair that’s slowly getting thicker on the top of my head. A smile involuntarily creeps across my lips, and I toss the beanie back on the nightstand before heading down to find Aubrey.
She’s sitting on the couch reading one of my textbooks. Her feet are perched on the edge of the couch, the thick book is balanced on her knees. She doesn’t notice me at all as I finish coming down the stairs. Her focus is zoned into the text on the page. It reminds me of the first time we sat on the water tower together. That moment in time seems like ages ago, but really, it’s only been weeks.
I stand at the bottom of the stairs for a while, admiring her, until I feel like a bit of a creep. She looks up at me when I clear my throat and the smile she gives me almost meets her eyes.
“Doing a little light reading, are we?” I say as I nod to the textbook on her lap.
Aubrey tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and closes the book before setting it aside. I move toward her like a string is tethered between us and I can’t bear the tension of how far apart we were a moment longer. After laying in the same bed as her twice now, I don’t even pretend to give her space. I sit as close to her as I can and put my arm behind her on the back of the couch.
“How was shopping?” I ask as I grab her legs and pull them up over my own so she’s sitting sideways on the couch, facing me.
A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have dreamed Aubrey would let me touch her in this way. With her this close to me, I want so badly to close the remaining distance between us and taste her lips. Of course, I don’t do that because for the first time–I’m terrified of kissing a girl.
I don’t know what will come of the friendship we’ve built these past few months if I take that leap. I’ve never kissed someone with any intention of it going beyond rolling around in bed together a few times. Hell, I even used to live by a stupid rule—never sleep with anyone more than three times. That’s how damn afraid of commitment I was. That’s not to say I’m not still completely panicked at the thought of truly being with someone. But if there is ever a time to push past those fears, the time is now. With Aubrey.
