Page 154 of Fever Dream
“Both, Jules. I think it’s both.”
CHAPTER 46
Julia
Theo
You okay? Emmett came looking for you yesterday.
Theo
He seemed genuinely distraught, and I just wanted to check in. Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought? I might have overstepped the other night.
Julia
ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW?
Emmett treats me like porcelain. He holds me in bed, and his hands never leave me, even as we make our way to the kitchen.
Fingers linked with mine, he presses his lips against the side of my head. It’s as though if he’s not touching me, I might cease to exist.
He pulls out a stool for me at his kitchen counter and steps away, mumbling about making me something to eat. But the glance he shoots back over his shoulder is anxious. His body language tells me that he’s loath to even be mere feet away.
We haven’t talked, not in depth, and certainly not sober, about what’s gone down in the last twenty-four hours.
We both know the truth of it, yet the misunderstanding of it all hovers above us like an ominous cloud. I can’t imagine anything prying me away from Emmett, but if we don’t clear the air, I fear outside forces might try.
He can barely meet my eyes, and that kills me.
“Emmett, I know I need Tylenol, water, and food—in that order. But we should talk.”
He flinches at the wordtalk. Like the mere prospect of open communication causes him physical pain.
“I’m going to take care of you first, Jules,” he says as he frantically rifles through cupboards and the fridge.
Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize the cupboards may be a little bare in this bachelor pad. But for some reason, that makes him search even more desperately.
I push off the stool and pad around the island until I get to him. I press in close at his back, slipping my hands over his rib cage to link across his stomach, resting my head against his back.
I can hear his heart. It’s racing, hard and fast. He’s more nervous than he has any need to be.
“Emmett, this isn’t a bad talk. This is a… let’s call it a pep talk. You and I, we’re a team now. I think we are, anyway.”
His head bobs in quick succession, sealing the promise between us. “I think so too.” His voice quavers.
“Kind of hard to beat the game if we don’t have a plan, yeah?”
He nods again, this time turning in my arms to match my position and wrap me up. Right here in the middle of his kitchen, we hold each other.
One of his palms presses against the back of my skull, keeping me flush against him. I tip my chin up to make eye contact.
“I’m sorry I doubted you,” I say, gaze bouncing between his eyes, wanting him to see and feel the apology.
He blinks, pain on his face as his lashes close. “I’m sorry I did this to you. Tous.”
“Em,” I say, squeezing him firmly as though I can make him feel my love before I’ve ever even told him the words. “You’ve done nothing.”
“Exactly,” he cuts in.
