Page 14 of Emerson

No pictures of Warren in the fireplace. His face isn’t scribbled out with Sharpie on the ones hanging, either. So, win?

But there also isn’t a convenient pamphlet lying around, outlining all my brother’s transgressions that could have led to him getting popped in the face and kicked to the side of the road by his long-term girlfriend.

Honestly, though, who dates someone for fifteen years and doesn’t propose? Don’t get me wrong, I don’t subscribe to the idea that everyone has to marry; I’ll likely be a spinster for the rest of eternity. But I know that Morgan always wanted to be married. She joked that I would be her flower boy whenever War finally asked.

I cringe at the thought, moving off the couch to snoop in the drawers under the TV.

Toys and more toys. A headless Dino nugget.

Disgusting.

I put the petrified nug back in the drawer where Penny left it and move to the dining room space off the living room. No boxes. No anything.

I huff, flicking through the mail on the edge of the old oak table Dillon has had since he moved in. Boring. Fucking snooze. Just bank statements and junk mail. There is a glass dome in the center of the table, though, and I snag one of the frosted cupcakes from under it.

My teeth are sinking into the sweet, sugary goodness when a cleared throat sounds behind me.

Dillon is leaning against the archway between rooms, an amused look on his face despite the quirked eyebrow and crossed arms.

The frosting has a whipped consistency but a light strawberry flavor that's zinging across my tastebuds.

“Where did you get these cupcakes?” I moan, going cross-eyed when I look at the bitten treat. The cake is moist, chocolatey goodness, but the center has a strawberry filling. Oh, my God.

“Were you going through my mail?”

I take another bite of the cake, narrowing my eyes at the man.

We both know I was, so I don’t bother answering. Just move on to sliding out the fabric cubes on the shelf against the wall. Finger paintings, loose photos.

So. Lame.

I’m about to walk away from the shelf to make my way back into the living room when Dillon sniffs and points. “Missed one.”

I pause long enough to shove the rest of the cupcake in my mouth before crouching to inspect the bottom cube. I pull it out…for absolutely nothing to be inside.

Dillon snorts when I flip him off.

“What are you looking for, Emerson?”

Sugar is singing through my veins now, the only good thing to come out of this massively huge waste of my time. I could be having a glaring contest with Eleanor right now. “I’m surprised you don’t have any mail from AARP with how utterly boring you are, old man.”

I sigh, falling back on the couch where I was when Penny decided to use my shoulder as a pillow. Dillon turns to look at me but doesn’t make a move to sit back where he was. Probably for the best—he totally stinks anyway. Like… unliked man and some woodsy smelling cologne.

“Is that why you don’t come over to see me anymore, baby Bennet? You think I’m boring?”

Hello, Universe? I’d just like to know what the fuck. Thanks.

I am not prepared for the question, and even less prepared for the soft but serious tone he used to deliver it to me.

My brain whites out for a hot second before kicking back online with a jumble of frantic thoughts running circles around my head, knocking into each other and making it impossible to do anything but blink at him.

I hate the term baby Bennet. I adjust my pants and tilt my chin a fraction higher in the air. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dillon is wearing a slutty little t-shirt with cut off arms, leaving the holes gaping enough to see halfway down his sides. His jeans are splattered with an array of different colors of paint, and he’s barefoot.

Not even socks. Nope. Just raw dogs out there to see.

I do not have a foot fetish, and I mean that wholeheartedly. I won’t deny that my dick likes some weird shit sometimes, but feet have never been one of those things. Yet seeing Dillon’s is something that has always made me squirm. Something about seeing the man who is hardly ever out of his work boots stripped down to his bare feet just does it for me.