When I Was Theirs

39. Emmy

39

Emmy

J ared’s words bury into my mind, burning through the irritation filling me.

He blinks. Slowly. “Forget I said that.”

Leaving me standing there, he bursts into sloppy movement. “Come on.”

Biting my lip, I follow slowly. He weaves all over the sidewalk, his words floating back to me. “Why do you work in a bar, if you don’t drink?”

“It’s not a requirement to drink on the job.” Even though he does. Every time. I steady him with my hand under his elbow. “And I can walk away if somebody’s had too much.”

But he’s scowling down at the sidewalk. “Why didn’t you tell Carla about Ben?”

The sudden switch-up takes me by surprise, and I stop. “What?”

Cold fingers grip my heart as he turns to me. Jared’s nose is red from the cold, his eyes bright. “Carla knew Ben. But she didn’t know about… what happened.”

I can put the pieces together. She knows now. Suddenly, our weird interaction earlier makes more sense.

“Carla has her own shit going on. I didn’t want to burden her with my grief. She has enough of her own.”

I try to turn away from him, but Jared puts his hands on my face, stopping me. My lips part as he cups my cheeks, cradling them. “Jared. What are you doing?”

“Do you miss him?” His hands are so warm . “Because I do, Em. I miss him so much. And you look so tired.”

My chest aches as he keeps talking. “I can’t sleep through the night, you know. I wake up every single night. I can’t stop thinking about him.”

I close my eyes. Because I don’t sleep, either. I wake up, screaming or crying from nightmares I can’t escape.

I see Ben.

I see other things.

My head is not a good place to be.

A finger brushes under my eye. Jared strokes his thumb against my skin. My scar, tracing the edges. “Why do I think about you, Emilia?”

My heart leaps for a single second, before it sinks like a stone. “Stop it. You’re drunk.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs. He looks at me. His eyes travel over my face, searching for something. “I shouldn’t think about you, but I do. Do you ever think about me?”

My breathing turns ragged. “Jared.”

He leans in, and a mixture of dread and something close to anticipation tangles together in my stomach. His nose brushes mine.

“Please,” he breathes. “I need to know.”

I swallow. “Yes.”

Amber and brown mix together. He’s so close to me that we’re sharing breaths, our lips almost touching. “Say it.”

“Yes.” I search his face. But I don’t see any trace of Ben in this moment. Anything that might explain why I tell him the truth. “Yes, I think about you.”

I don’t know when it started happening. When those thoughts started creeping into my mind.

Only that they did.

The Bennett boys are sharing space in my head, and I hate myself for even thinking about it. Hate myself for thinking about one while I break my fucking heart over the other.

Jared’s eyes slowly close. He shakes his head. “I can’t do this.”

“Wait - I didn’t ask you to.” Shame floods me as I pull back abruptly. Away from his touch, his warmth. “I haven’t asked you for anything, Jared. We’re friends. That’s it.”

He’s Ben’s brother.

My only connection to him.

“It’s because of Ben,” I whisper. “That’s it. That’s why this is happening, Jared.”

Two lonely people, reaching for each other in the absence of the person we both want.

Jared and I face each other with a foot of cold air between us.

“You believe that?” The question is sharp.

Not meeting his eyes, I nod.

I have to believe it. Because if it’s not true, then it’s such a betrayal of every part of my relationship with Ben.

As if he was a stepping stone to get to his brother.

God, Ben. I wish you were here.

I clear my throat, turning away. “I’m cold. Come on.”

He doesn’t say anything else, but he’s half-asleep on his feet by the time we reach my apartment. Jared insists on following me up to the door, and he bumps into my back when I stop. He leans against the wall. “What’s that? Did you make it?”

“No.” Frowning, I bend down to pick up the circular flower arrangement, turning it over in my hands. “There’s no card. Probably for my neighbor.”

It looks like a funeral wreath. The symbolism is clear. Black roses mixed with red poppies, orchids scattered between them.

Shaking my head, I take it through the door, leaving it on the table. I can’t knock on anyone’s door at this hour. “You can’t go home like this. You can sleep on the couch.”

“No.” Jared sways in my doorway, rumpled and rugged and… tempting. “This is a bad idea, Em.”

He never calls me Emmy.

“Maybe.” If we’d both been drinking, I’d agree. “But trust me when I say that leaving you to walk back on your own is a worse one.”

He steps inside, turning to look around. “I’ve never been in here before.”

Only to the door.

I’ve never invited him inside.

“Sit.” I point, masking my thoughts with a stern expression. “Before you fall, and I can’t pick you up.”

Jared stumbles down onto the couch. He’s out before I even pull a blanket over him, a soft, rumbling snore coming from his throat.

I spend a few minutes watching the rise and fall of his chest. At least he’s sleeping.

I don’t get any.