recovery?
“Did I always enjoy cooking?” he asked, staring off in the distance. The table grew still, and just as Emerson was about to comment, Rhys answered his own question. “Guess I did. I almost forgot how much Mom and I would share kitchen duties before Carl came along.” He sounded almost bitter about the man, which wasn’t anything new, but now Emerson wondered if there was something he’d missed when they were in town.
They all dug into their meal as a quiet reverie fell over the room.
“So how was school?” Emerson asked, passing the basket of garlic bread around.
“Good. I got an A on my math exam,” Audrey replied.
“Awesome.” They high-fived. “Sam?”
“The kids at school are jerks,” he grumbled.
Emerson reached for his wrist and squeezed. “Did something happen?”
“Not really. Just the usual.” He frowned. “No one gets me.”
Sadness filtered through Rhys’s eyes, and Emerson wondered how much he remembered about Sam’s troubles. How he’d gotten teased by kids pretty much always and how it made Emerson feel helpless even as he tried his best to give Sam support and hope. He’d spoken to his teachers countless times and encouraged Sam that things would get better.
“Someday you’ll meet another kid who feels passionately about the same stuff, and you’ll become fast friends.” Sam never liked organized sports—not unless it was a game inside his computer—and was a huge bookworm, so he’d rather hang around the house and read or play videos. Emerson often wondered what his mom might suggest if she were here, and the honest truth was he didn’t know. She’d definitely always encourage him, and so Emerson did as well.
“I know what that feels like,” Rhys said suddenly, and Emerson had a feeling he knew where he was going with this.
Sam pushed up his glasses. “You do?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Nobody really understood why I was attracted to adventure sports. It wasn’t football or baseball.”
“Or basketball or soccer,” Sam added, and Audrey rolled her eyes but kept quiet. She knew how sensitive Sam was about certain topics.
Emerson had been expecting Rhys to talk about being gay in a sea of heterosexuals. He hadn’t considered his choice of activities because he was actually way more social that Emerson ever was. The weather could be temperamental in Maine, but Rhys was outdoors doing stuff he enjoyed more days than not.
Emerson also felt like he was waiting on the sidelines while everyone else was dating and girl crazy, and in that regard, it was always comforting having Rhys as a friend. He was simply himself and never made Emerson feel strange about being an introvert and only being part of a handful of school clubs that interested him, like the one that involved him in community service during summer breaks. Emerson played little league at some point, but that didn’t pan out in later years, though he remained a fan of a few pro or semiprofessional teams.
And damn, in light of his recent revelations about himself, the synapses were firing off in his brain. He wanted to say it out loud, but he didn’t want to ruin their moment. They were smiling and laughing, and Sam seemed pleased that Rhys had normalized his feelings. Fuck, he wanted to kiss Rhys right then and there. He pushed up from his seat to fill his glass with more ice water and calm his racing pulse.
“Did the adults always tell you that you needed to be mindful of your surroundings?” Audrey asked with an eye roll, and Emerson almost laughed as she parroted a recent conversation they’d had about curfew and also catfishing, considering how much time she spent on her phone.
“As a matter of fact, they did.” Rhys glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “And look what happened!”
Sam and Audrey laughed nervously, as if uncertain whether they should.
“You couldn’t help what happened,” Emerson said in a quiet voice.
“He’s right,” Audrey added, and he was proud of her. She recognized that Rhys was feeling pretty low and could probably use a pep talk of his own.
“Yeah, but it still sucks all the same.” Rhys shrugged. “So that’s the thing, Sam. You never know what’s gonna happen. Stay true to yourself and do what you love anyway.”
“Will you?” Sam asked, then bit into his garlic bread.
Rhys lifted his fork again, which seemed a struggle for him. “What?”
“Still do what you love?”
Emerson noticed how Rhys swallowed thickly. “Well, not tonight.”
Emerson felt a strange stitch in his chest as Audrey and Sam laughed.
“Can we be