these athletes, but he usually agreed to watch stuff with Rhys because it was important to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t like sports—in fact, he’d been known to turn on minor league ball games during the summer, something else he and Neil had in common.
“How are classes going?” Emerson asked, then bit into a soggy fry. He wasn’t going to complain, because he was starving.
“Pretty good. I have a paper due in my pharmacology class.” Neil was nearly finished with his associate’s degree and hoped to move to the pharmacy department at the hospital as soon as there was an opening. It was slow going because he was taking online and evening classes, but how cool that he was actually working toward something.
Emerson had a steady job, the kids were on his medical, plus his parents’ life insurance had helped pay off some of the bigger bills, but he hadn’t gotten organized enough to fit school into his plans. It all felt too overwhelming at the time.
He logically knew this undertaking was way bigger than all that. He was helping his siblings become responsible adults, and not even his darkest nights, when he felt most devastated, could undermine that. They were his responsibility, and he needed to see it through for his parents. And for himself.
Fuck, he missed his parents. And strangely, he felt closer to them when he and his siblings were home together as a family.
Having Rhys stay in their room had at first felt sacrilegious, then like an answered prayer—and he was no praying man. But if anyone could breathe new life into their home, it was Rhys.
Fuck, he’d almost lost him too.
“Hey, almost forgot,” Neil said, interrupting his musings. “If the Rockets make it to the playoffs, are you interested in catching a game with me? I have a friend with season tickets who can’t use them.”
“Seriously?” The Rockets were a minor league team who played near Bangor and were having a kickass season. “I think I could probably swing it.”
It was honestly nice of him to ask. By that time, Rhys would hopefully be back on his feet and everything would return to normal. Whatever that meant. He shook the melancholy thought away.
“Awesome!” Neil grinned. “Fingers crossed they make it.”
“Definitely,” he replied as Neil balled up his lunch and threw the wrapper in the trash. “Thanks again for lunch.”
He heard excited voices and giggles when he swept through the door after work, and he couldn’t help grinning when he saw the three of them snuggled together on the couch, each with a controller in hand.
“It deploys automatically,” Sam instructed, nudging Rhys.
“Just give me time, and I’ll get the hang of it.” Rhys glanced briefly in his direction as Emerson hung his keys on the hook and placed his backpack in the corner near the coatrack. “Welcome home.”
The sentiment warmed him to his core.
“You’ll want to get to higher ground,” Audrey suggested, pointing at the screen.
When Emerson stepped closer and glanced at the screen, he noted they were on Spawn Island in the Fortnite game, which could be used like a practice arena for beginners.
“You can’t take the ammo with you,” Emerson added, unable to help himself.
Rhys dropped the controller onto his lap and sighed. “Et tu, Brute?”
“Sorry,” Emerson said, biting his lip and looking away. “You guys tiring Rhys out?”
He could just hear the little huff of breath Audrey directed at him.
“No way,” Rhys replied. “They’re keeping me company.”
“And don’t worry, our homework is done,” Audrey supplied.
Now he just felt silly. Like he was the uncool parent who’d walked into the room and ruined their time. “All right. I’ll start dinner, then.”
Rhys loudly cleared his throat. “So, we actually think you should join us for a few minutes.”
Emerson jabbed his thumb over his shoulder, confused. “No, I really should—”
Audrey eagerly clapped her hands. “Dinner’s already started.”
“Huh?” His gaze swung toward the kitchen, and that was when he noticed the oven light on and the timer set for twelve more minutes. “What’s going on?”
Rhys’s cheeks dotted red, as though he was unsure if he’d overstepped. “I taught Audrey how to marinate chicken breasts.”
“And don’t worry, I made sure she washed her hands and the counter,” Sam added, and Emerson bit back a grin. No way they’d get away with spreading germs, if Sam had anything to say about it.
Audrey straightened her shoulders, like she was proud of herself. “And then we put the chicken in the oven to bake before Rhys says we pull it