Page 38 of Steady Stroke
Emmett’s drunk brain didn’t let any of that out of his mouth, though, and Aunt Beatrice didn’t push. He let her ease him up and out, and then suddenly they were walking home in the hot, humid sea air. It sobered him up enough to realize he hadn’t thanked Van for their talk, or for the shots.
In the dark of his bedroom, he considered calling Lincoln. Thankfully, Aunt Beatrice took his phone and put it on the side table so he didn’t do something embarrassing. She kissed his forehead then left the room.
He should have thanked her, too, for being so cool about hisunderage drinking in her bar. For being so cool about everything. He fell into bed thinking about how cool his aunt was.
And woke up the next morning with a fuzzy tongue and a headache.
Bits of the previous night’s conversations came back, flooding him with terror. Van and Aunt Beatrice knew he was gay. Aunt Beatrice had no reason to spread it around, but what about Van? He had no loyalty to Emmett. Except Van had initiated the conversation. He’d made Emmett talk, as if he actually cared what Emmett was going through.
Maybe he does care. Maybe he’s even a friend now.
Okay, fine, Emmett was gay. Feeling something and acting on those feelings were very different things. He could control himself. All he had to do was maintain a physical distance from Lincoln. A text-only friendship or something.
IfLincoln still wanted anything to do with him. They hadn’t parted well, and they hadn’t communicated for days. Maybe he’d lucked out and that ship had sailed.
Except the idea of never speaking to Lincoln again chilled him inside. He didn’t want to lose how he felt when he was with Lincoln—safe, content, at ease. Things he hadn’t felt in years, first because of his heritage and school bullying, and then because of the fire. No, with Lincoln he was either all in or all out.
And right now, all out hurt too much to consider.
Someone knocked on his door. Aunt Beatrice entered with a glass of water and a piece of dry toast on a plate, next to two aspirin.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Awful. And it was only three shots.”
“Neat shots, though. And when was the last time you’d eaten?”
Good point. He gingerly sat up so he could munch on thetoast, getting enough down to take the aspirin with a little water.
“Go take a shower, too,” she said. “It’ll help.”
“Thank you. For last night and for this.”
She ruffled his messy hair. “Thank me by doing whatever it is that will make you happy, Em. You deserve to be happy. Your parents would want that for you.”
Emmett didn’t know what would make him happy, so he didn’t tax his brain right then. He concentrated on a long, hot shower that helped ease his hammering headache into a dull thud. When he finally emerged from his room in clean clothes, the house was empty. His phone had a text from Aunt Beatrice that she was going to run errands for a few hours, along with another wish for him to find what made him happy.
The doorbell rang, its rusty chimes startling Emmett into dropping his phone. Onto carpet, thankfully. He wandered to the front door, curious who was there. UPS, maybe, dropping off a package. Adrian was addicted to some shopping app.
He unlocked and opened the door to hot air and streaming sunlight.
And to Lincoln. “Hey,” he said with a bright smile. He had a flat white box in one hand, and a black case of some sort strapped over his shoulder, and his sudden appearance there made absolutely no sense. “May I come in?”
Say no. Say no. Say no.
Emmett gulped. “Yes.”
NINE
Emmett second-guessedhis decision to allow him entrance the moment Lincoln frowned at him. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You look like you’re coming down with the flu.”
“Hangover.” The surprised way Lincoln’s eyebrows rose into sharp arches might have been amusing if his stomach wasn’t still a little sloshy. “Come in, please.” He moved out of the way so Lincoln could leave the sweltering heat for the air-conditioned house.
Lincoln stared around, taking in the decor, which was very Beatrice—an unsubtle mix of beach kitsch and rock and roll, with a surfboard on one wall, a lot of chrome in the kitchen visible through a wide doorway, and lots of bright colors, mixed with seashells and coral. She even had several wind chimes hanging in the living room.
Emmett loved the quirkiness of it.
Lincoln leaned the oddly shaped black case against the side of the couch, then held up the box in his hands. “Beatrice thought I should bribe my way into your good graces, so you’ll forgive me for not calling or texting since Saturday.”
