“Hayley,” I warned her, trying to get her to focus.
“Right.” She blinked and followed me towards the kitchen area of my tiny apartment. “I really appreciate you letting me in.”
I made us some coffee and the two of us crowded onto my small couch together, our knees bumping against each other. Hayley took a sip of her coffee, but I didn’t really feel like eating or drinking anything. I just wanted to hear what she had to say.
“Emerson is a mess,” she finally blurted out. “He refuses to tell me what happened at the night of the gala, only that you guys got into a huge fight and broke up.”
“That’s all he told you?” I demanded, knowing that while Emerson might not have spilled all of the details to Hayley, he definitely would have told her more than that.
Her cheeks got red, so I knew I was right.
“He might have mentioned that my father was involved as well.”
“That’s an understatement,” I said dryly. “Your father is an interesting guy.”
Hayley looked down at her coffee. She suddenly seemed very young. Very naïve.
“My family is . . . interesting,” she agreed. “We all love each other, but, well, we all have very bad ways of showing it. My father especially.”
“No kidding,” I snorted. “I’m pretty sure that telling your son that he’s a failure unless he turns his business into a franchise is not the best way to express your love.”
“He wants to turn Rascals into a franchise?” Hayley asked, her mouth dropping open.
“He wants the guys to sell it to some outside investors,” I confirmed, and watched anger spread over Hayley’s face.
“Well, that’s just not fair. And it belongs to them. Emerson would never let that happen.”
“I know that, you know that, Emerson knows that,” I agreed. “But your father doesn’t seem to be able to take no for an answer.”
Hayley nodded seriously. “He hates not getting his way,” she said. “He’s stubborn. But so is my brother. The two of them don’t get along because they’re so similar.”
“I think there’s more to it than that,” I told her.
“Maybe.” Hayley thought for a moment. “But the point is that my father and Emerson have a complicated relationship. And because of that, Emerson does things—stupid things—in reaction to my father. Things that he regrets.” She took my hands. “I know that he said some things to you that he wishes he could take back.”
“Did he say that?” I wanted to know.
“Not directly,” she admitted. “But I know my brother, and I know when he realizes he’s made a mistake. I also know that he can be too stubborn to admit that mistake.”
I looked at her. “I don’t really know what you want me to say.”
“I just want you to go talk to him,” Hayley begged. “Give him a chance to explain. To apologize. He’s miserable without you.”
“Is that why he ran away to the woods with the guys?” I asked.
My tone was sarcastic but Hayley’s nod was genuine.
“He didn’t know what to do,” she confirmed. “I told him to talk to you, to call you, but he’s too proud. Just please give him a chance to explain. To apologize.”
“I’ll think about it,” I told her.
“Thank you.” Hayley gave me a big hug. “You won’t regret it.”
Hours later, I was still unsure. I thought that a bottle of wine would help, but I was nearing the bottom of that bottle and I still didn’t know if I had the strength to confront Emerson. To talk to him.
But I couldn’t deny that every time I thought about him—every time I remembered the time we had spent together, a little spark of happiness spread through me. It filled up that empty space inside of me and made me long for more.
I had been so focused on my work for so long—working towards a goal that at many times had seemed unattainable.
Until now.
That goal—the job I had worked tirelessly towards for years—had been attained. I had my dream position, and I was on the fast track to a better life. One where I could afford to send my mother on a vacation and where I could buy myself designed clothes, instead of searching for them at consignment shops. I would belong among my peers.
I should have felt triumphant, but I just missed Emerson.
Everything had been better when I had him to share my life, my accomplishments and my frustrations with. He had supported me in a way that no other man had. He sacrificed his own comfort, his free time, his energy, to help me—going to events I knew he didn’t want to go to. Spending time with people he had spent a good portion of his adult life trying to avoid. I had been trying to be part of the world that he had been born into—a world that he had all but left.
And he came back to it. For me.
I should have listened to him. I should have trusted him when he warned me about his father the first time. I should have taken him at his word and been more careful. Cautious. And I should have told him exactly what the partners and his father had been planning. Instead, I hesitated, because I thought I knew best.
And everything had fallen apart.
He’d made a snap decision and said harsh things to me . . . But I’d made a bad judgment call, too. Hayley had said he was proud, but I was too. I thought I was the one who deserved an apology, and I’d been so busy not giving an inch, I hadn’t realized we both deserved one.
Maybe I couldn’t make Emerson see his mistakes, but I knew mine now, and I needed to at least try to make that right.
But what if I was too late?
I grabbed my phone and called Hayley. She picked up on the first ring.
“The guys went camping,” my words came out in a rush. “Do you know where they went?”
24
Emerson
Usually being alone in the woods with my boys and no cell reception was the perfect break from the world. Fishing and camping always cleared my head—so it was no wonder that after watching me mope over Alex for almost two weeks, Chase and Sawyer got fed up with my pity party and dragged me out of the city to get over it.
We had the woods to ourselves. A few hours away from Sawyer’s cabin, it was too early in the season for the hiking/fishing/camping crowd that could overwhelm these woods over the summer. We hadn’t seen a single other person since we set up camp.
Usually, trips like these were the things I looked forward to every spring. The chance to get away from the city, away from my family, away from any stress that might be fucking with my life.
But this time, I was finding absolutely zero relief in the great outdoors.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Alex and how much I had fucked up with her. Because I had fucked up big time. I’d flown off the handle and put her right in the firing line. And I couldn’t stop replaying that moment between us—when I stood outside the Blackstone Hotel and accused her of selling out to get ahead.
I couldn’t believe I’d gone that far. I knew how much her job mattered to her, and how hard she’d worked—honest work—to get where she was today. But I’d basically acted like none of that mattered, that she was just using people for selfish gain. Dammit. Even thinking about it now made me tense with shame. My father never failed to bring out the worst in me, but that was no excuse. I couldn’t keep letting him influence my life like this. I told myself that I was a grown man, finally free from his criticism and judgment, but there was nothing mature about the way I’d let him get under my skin, reminding me of all my insecurities until I blew up at the one person who I should have treated like a queen.
Alex deserved better than that.
Even if I could muster up the courage to apologize to her, I didn’t have the words to make amends.
So instead, I stomped around the campsite and glared at nature. I kept insisting that I was fine. That nothing was wrong. I kept pretending that we were just on another one of our regular fishing trips, just three dudes spending the afternoon in a boat.
To their credit, my friends hadn’t said anything. They were letting me mope and grumble and be a pain in the ass. I was pretty sure I didn’t deserve it, but I was fucking grateful for it.
“Geez,” Sawyer groaned as he pulled his line from the water. His bait had been stolen clean off the hook. “Is it just me, or does it seem like the fish are getting smarter?”
“Maybe you’re just getting dumber,” Chase suggested, letting out a cry of protest as Sawyer threw a slimy, wiggling worm at him. “Gross, dude,” he said, clearing his throat and adopting a slightly lower baritone than usual.
Sawyer gave him the finger.
I couldn’t even crack a smile.
“Or maybe our lack of luck with fish today has something to do with Miss Lonelyhearts over here sighing like that every five seconds,” Chase observed.
I didn’t have a worm to throw at him, so I just ignored him, pulling my baseball cap down over my forehead.
“They can probably smell the sadness,” Sawyer added, pretending to hold his nose. “Because it fucking reeks.”
“If this is your attempt at cheering me up, I have to tell you, it sucks,” I told them.
“We already tried that tactic,” Chase countered, reeling in his line, which had been picked clean just like Sawyer’s had.
“You’ve been stomping around the campsite like a bear with a burr up its ass,” Sawyer added colorfully.
“We tried being nice and understanding and patient,” said Chase.
It was true, but it was also true that when it came to the bro code, a camping trip with your guys meant that you didn’t have to talk about your feelings. Any of them.
“Pretty sure there was nothing nice or understanding or patient about the way you basically tossed me into Sawyer’s truck and kidnapped me,” I reminded him. “I could have told you that I wasn’t in the mood for this back to nature routine.”
I knew I was being unfair. I knew I was being a dick. But I couldn’t help it. I was angry and hurt and therefore was lashing out at the closest thing to me. My best friends.