A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies - Christina Lee Page 0,27

no doubt try to concoct a way to stay longer, and short of quitting her job… He knew he’d be putting her in an uncomfortable position, and he wouldn’t do that.

He also hoped that now that he’d been released, Emerson would finally relax. Lately, he seemed the most uptight of them all, and Rhys was dying to know what was on his mind. Maybe it was just the usual stuff, which was plenty, but Rhys couldn’t help feeling there was something more to it. His memory was shit at the moment, so he hoped he wasn’t missing too many relevant details.

“Get comfortable while I make us lunch,” his mom said, reaching for the bread on the counter.

“Mom, you don’t have to—”

“Hush. It’ll be my last time for a while.”

Sadness washed over him as he conceded.

“Want a soda?” Emerson asked, heading toward the fridge.

“No, thanks,” Rhys replied, feeling out of sorts.

He’d avoided taking a pain med—he wanted to stay awake for the last hours with his mom—but he was aching all over and knew he’d need to soon.

He watched as Emerson clumsily opened cupboards, rooting around for a glass like he was preoccupied and couldn’t remember where they were located. It made his stomach tilt uneasily.

Emerson set his soda down on the coffee table, then adjusted the afghan over Rhys’s legs.

“I don’t know who’s being more of a mother hen.”

“Shut it,” Emerson replied, finally cracking a smile and sitting his ass down.

Christ, this was going to be interesting. Maybe they’d kill each other before this was all over.

8

Emerson

Why was he being so awkward around Rhys?

He obviously had some inkling. When he looked at Rhys, he could remember clear as day how it felt to kiss him, to hear his quiet moan as their bodies aligned… Fuck.

Whereas when Rhys looked at him, that same bald honesty and trust shined back, polished by shared history and a long friendship. His gut told him that Rhys had freaked that night, realizing it wasn’t at all what he wanted, and that was why he’d made such a quick exit. And the idea of Rhys suddenly remembering everything with the same outcome really made him nauseous.

But what if, after they’d seen each other again, everything magically clicked back into place? Or maybe it would’ve been Emerson deciding they should only be friends—doubtful, because that night was everything—but still possible.

He would never freaking know, and wasn’t life just shitty in that regard? Fuck, he hated the feeling of having crap happen and not having any say in any of it. He wanted to rage and cry and scream, but he didn’t want to worry Rhys, which is why he did his best to school his expression, attempting to conceal all these frustrating thoughts.

He knew how much Rhys hated feeling helpless, so he needed to snap out of it and stop thinking about how much things had changed—how he’d changed—because Rhys was none the wiser and might never be.

It was only a kiss, for fuck’s sake, but Emerson knew he would experience few like it in his life.

“How do you like my new couch?” Rhys asked with a smirk.

“Huh? It’s not— Oh, I see, funny guy. It’s new to you.” He arched a brow, grateful that they could joke about it. “You got it on sale and then made me haul it inside with you instead of paying the delivery charge.”

Rhys shrugged. “Sounds about right.”

Emerson rolled his eyes just as he caught the tightness in Rhys’s jaw. It was similar to moments of frustration he’d witnessed in the hospital. He must’ve been a ball of contradictions. But now Emerson wondered if he felt uprooted because he had to leave the security of his own house. Thankfully they were only across the street. And when Emerson noted the stairs to the second floor where the bathroom and three bedrooms were located, he knew it was the right decision. Managing those steps would be murder on Rhys right now, especially alone.

“You mad at me?” The question was lobbed at Emerson seemingly out of the blue. “Did we have a fight or something before…the accident?”

Emerson’s eyebrows knitted together. “Why would you ask that?”

“You seem so…I dunno, distant. So I figure either all this is too much for you, or you’re disappointed I got hurt in the first place.”

A light bulb went off in Emerson’s head as he turned to Rhys. “Probably everyone in your life has been worried about you at some point.” Not that he wasn’t worried; he sure as