But then he’d hear Sam cry out from a bad dream, and he’d know he was exactly where he was meant to be. He needed to show up for his science fairs, and for Audrey’s soccer games, and to put all his dreams aside because they needed him.
Rhys had also been a support to them over the past four years. He’d randomly show up with a pizza to watch movies, and he’d often fall asleep in what had become his favorite chair.
He was considered family, so it was confusing why tonight seemed to cross over into new territory for Emerson.
He retreated to his room but only tossed and turned in bed, his dick growing harder the more he thought about Rhys and his hookup. He adjusted himself in his boxers before finally, finally, gripping himself through the material.
It was a purely physical reaction, and he needed to get it over with. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d jerked off. He lay back and pulled himself out, using a tight fist as he stroked upward.
He tried to remember how good it felt to have sex with his girlfriend from high school. He’d cared about her a lot, and being intimate with someone he trusted back then had felt so good, especially since it was an awakening of sorts, his body finally responding and making sense.
But Rhys kept intruding on his thoughts. So he stopped fighting himself and just went with it. This one time. It was a fluke anyway. Wasn’t it?
He pictured Rhys’s hands on him the way they’d been on that guy. His fingernails digging into Emerson’s flesh as his mouth tasted the salty skin at Rhys’s throat. He imagined touching Rhys’s warm skin under his shirt, and their mouths meeting, as he stroked faster and tried not making any noise.
He wondered how it might feel to sink inside a guy’s ass—okay, Rhys’s ass. Guess he was going there just this once. Rhys didn’t talk about his hookups often, but he’d heard him joke once about being a bottom, and Emerson knew what that meant, even looked it up afterward, getting an eyeful. He had never thought about it in quite these terms, but he couldn’t help himself now. He was completely turned on.
He didn’t think he’d want anyone to penetrate him or even touch his ass…or did he? Somehow it felt too vulnerable. Would he enjoy it with Rhys? He didn’t think so. So why did the acute awareness of the act somehow make him stiffer? Maybe it was the idea of finally letting go with someone he trusted.
As he imagined his own cock pumping between round, tight cheeks—holy fuck, no way could he ever admit that to anyone—he came so hard, his teeth clattered.
Panting harshly, he stared at the ceiling, letting the euphoria of his orgasm wash over him. Fuck, he’d needed that. Now he could move past this—whatever this was.
Using a tissue to clean himself up, he got under the sheets and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would finally consume him.
All at once a memory of a long-ago conversation he’d had with his mom crept up on him out of the blue. His eyes sprang open. He didn’t think anything of it at the time, but recalling it now made his chest twinge.
“I wasn’t interested in dating Brad until after we became friends through work. He was always very handsome, of course,” she’d said, and Brad beamed at her across the room.
Emerson always thought they were good for each other and would forever be grateful that his stepfather officially adopted him and made him part of the Rose family. For the first time since the accident, the idea of his parents being somewhere in the universe together soothed his soul like a balm.
His mind raced back to the conversation with his mom, remembering the bit she’d added at the end. “Once we got to know each other better, I trusted him, and my attraction only grew.”
Abruptly, he sat up. In fact, he remembered his mom saying something similar about his biological father. They’d been high-school sweethearts. She’d never casually dated, not that he could ever remember.
Was he like his mom? Was that why his only serious relationship had been with someone he knew pretty well in high school? But how did that explain his sudden attraction to Rhys?
Emerson sat staring into space for entirely too long before repositioning himself beneath the covers and closing his eyes. He was sure to think more clearly in the morning.
Ten months later
Rhys
Rhys was at Sneaky Pete’s, his favorite gay club, to support his deejay friend Lance, who used to work with him. In the process, he’d run into a few acquaintances and a couple of past hookups. He’d just gotten off the dance floor and made his way through the crowd to the bar, when he noticed a familiar face across the way. He was stunned as he watched his best friend order a mixed drink, then heartily sip at it, like he needed courage.
What in the hell was Emerson doing here?
A man who’d sidled up beside Emerson whispered flirtatiously in his ear, and Emerson’s cheeks striped red as he shook his head to turn him down. Some protective instinct arose in Rhys, even though he knew Emerson could take care of himself, especially against an advance, and even if he was out of practice.
Last time he checked, Emerson was definitely straight, though a time or two Rhys had questioned some things, like how flustered Emerson had been that night a few months back when he’d spotted Rhys with a date in the driveway and then fled inside once Rhys asked him about it. In fact, he’d been acting a bit strange ever since. A couple of times he’d even caught Emerson scrutinizing him during family dinners, but he hadn’t been brave enough to ask him what the hell that had been about.
Rhys glanced around the club to decipher if Emerson was with anyone else, but it seemed he’d shown up alone. He could only conclude that Emerson came tonight because Rhys had invited him. Except, he always invited Emerson, and Emerson always turned him down. But he kept doing it, in case he ever changed his mind.
Guess this was the night.
But Rhys would have never expected Emerson freaking Rose to take him up on meeting at a gay club of all places, not that there weren’t any straight people here. Besides, since when did Emerson go to bars at all? They’d shared a couple of drinks around a bonfire in the backyard when they’d finally turned legal, but otherwise, he’d never known Emerson to go out with friends or let loose. He rarely left the kids at night, and knowing how tightly wound he was about being there for them, Rhys needed to pinch himself to make sure his presence tonight wasn’t a mirage.
When he made eye contact with his friend across the bar, Emerson blinked like he almost didn’t recognize Rhys in this setting either. He looked him up and down, and then realization dawned on his features. Rhys lifted his hand in a wave, and Emerson’s eyes widened in panic before his expression transformed into relief.
Emerson downed his drink and made his way over, getting interested looks along the way. Rhys could understand why. Emerson was a dream with his cinnamon-colored waves, fitted jeans, and blue T-shirt that brought out his eyes. Even though Rhys had always been aware Emerson was gorgeous, seeing other men note his attractiveness made it all the more pronounced.
“You came!” Rhys said as Emerson scrunched his nose, looking confused. “That’s why you’re here? Because I said—”
“Oh, right, your deejay friend,” he said in a rush as if he suddenly remembered.