A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies - Christina Lee Page 0,48

the answer seemed to matter so darned much.

Suddenly Emerson reached for Rhys’s hand and clutched it to his chest. “Like I’m not so alone. Like maybe the burden isn’t so great.”

Rhys’s breath hitched. “For real?”

His gaze was soft and searching. “Yeah, for real.”

“Fuck, I’d do anything, Em.” His trembling fingers curved against Emerson’s jaw. “Anything to lessen the heavy load.”

Emerson briefly squeezed his eyes shut. “I know.”

“For what it’s worth, those kids adore you.” He twisted a lock of Emerson’s hair near his ear. “You’ve made their lives worth living.”

“I dunno. I sure fuck up a lot.” Emerson bit his lip. “Half the time I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

“But you’re still here, and that’s exactly what they need.” He felt Emerson’s shoulders unwind a fraction. “I want to be here too—for all of you.”

“You already are,” Emerson murmured. “They adore you too. We all do.”

His heart tripped at the profound affection he heard in Emerson’s voice. Emerson didn’t pull away and neither did he, feeling so safe and comfortable in his arms. His best friend’s warm flesh, pattering heartbeat, and breaths against his neck made him feel alive. But also something deeper than that. Something he was too afraid to name because it was sure to propel him into a black void he might never recover from.

16

Emerson

Did you happen to catch the game last night? It was a text from Neil, asking about the Rockets championship that Emerson had caught earlier using the First Pitch app on the iPad.

Of course! It was a kickass win.

Playoffs, here we come.

Looking forward to it.

“What are you smiling about?” Rhys asked.

Emerson didn’t realize he’d been grinning at his screen. He hadn’t shared his excitement about the team win with any of them, knowing it would undoubtedly fall flat, and now he felt guilty, wondering if Rhys had always felt the same about his own interests.

They’d just returned from a walk where the clouds opened up and drenched them in buckets of water. They couldn’t run home because Rhys’s ribs would protest, so when Rhys made a game of stepping into as many puddles as he could find and the kids joined in, Emerson knew it was a lost cause.

Towels were passed around, their muddy clothes thrown in the washer, and they were currently cuddled under blankets on the couch. Audrey had selected the latest Marvel movie to try and distract Sam from the storm. From the first flash of lightning, he’d burrowed himself farther beneath Emerson’s arm. Something about lightning and thunder and dark clouds had always freaked him out.

“It’s just Neil, my friend from work, remember?” Emerson asked, and Rhys nodded. He’d spoken briefly about him in the past and about their shared interest in the minor leagues. “The Rockets won the championship game.”

“Now I know why your nose was buried in your device last night.” His tone was part smirk, part accusatory. Emerson had clicked the screen as soon as they’d returned from carrying to Rhys’s house some of the stuff he’d accumulated since coming to stay with them. It was also a good distraction from the fact that Rhys would be back at his own place tomorrow.

“Yeah,” Emerson replied sheepishly. “Which reminds me. Neil has tickets to an upcoming playoff game. You said once that I should—”

“Absolutely, you should. And I’ll stay with the kids while you have a fun night out,” Rhys replied, though he looked a bit shell-shocked. Most likely because Emerson rarely went out.

And it was strange for Emerson too. Not that he was interested in Neil, though he was handsome and thoughtful, but it would be cool to go to the Rockets game with a friend. As to the strange idea that Neil might be attracted to him…maybe that would be just fine and not weird at all.

“That would be awesome. Thank you.”

The evening of Rhys’s nightmare, Emerson thought for a startling moment that he’d felt something more from Rhys, which gave him a flicker of hope and made him ache with longing. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been any more obvious clues since then. He figured he’d let his imagination run away with him, and he’d come to the painful conclusion that the shared tender moment had only served to deepen their friendship.

But at least he felt more certain that even after Rhys moved back across the street, their closeness wouldn’t change—not after experiencing this tragedy through his eyes and trying like hell to help him through it. Even though Emerson loved having him around, it