A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies - Christina Lee Page 0,73

course you can.” Emerson reached for the flyer across the table, and it gave Rhys an excuse to study his friend as he read it. He looked amazing as always, though a bit tired, if the shadows under his eyes were any indication. “Looks fun.”

After dinner, Rhys begged off the walk because of his splitting headache and retreated to bed early. He could tell it was right on the edge of Emerson’s lips to offer advice or assistance, but he held his tongue. And whereas before his overt concern made Rhys feel a bit helpless, now he’d practically beg for his undivided attention. “Good night.”

He didn’t know how many hours had passed when he attempted to open his eyes, and groaned. The moonlight filtering through the curtains was almost blinding, the beep of a car horn outside too fucking loud, and his head felt like it weighed a ton.

All the colors in the room seemed to blend together in a vivid halo of light as pain slashed across his temples. Chill bumps like sharp icicles jabbed every square inch of his body as he trembled. He moaned, his shaky hands grasping his stomach as he dry-heaved over the side of the bed.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Warm hands were gripping his shoulders, and then he felt a warm wrist across his forehead. Was he dreaming? “You don’t have a fever, so it must be another bad headache.”

“Emerson?” Rhys squinted up at his friend, who looked fuzzy around the edges, bright in the center.

“I heard you yell for me,” Emerson replied. He had? Fuck, if it didn’t feel like there was an anvil sitting on his head, he might’ve been embarrassed. Instead, he was just fucking relieved not to be alone. “I was watching TV. Figured I needed to stay close, just in case.”

“Fuck. Thank you,” he muttered. “It’s a bad one tonight.”

“If it’s still there in the morning, we’ll call the doc.” Emerson made him sit up a little to get a pain med and some water in him, then tucked him back in and sat on the side of the bed, rubbing Rhys’s forehead. It was the most amazing feeling to be taken care of by him, despite everything going on between them—or not going on.

As he drifted in and out of sleep, he could’ve sworn he heard Emerson whispering to himself, “Fucking hell, Rhys. I don’t wanna lose you too.”

The thing he couldn’t say to him during their argument. Maybe because it was way too raw and vulnerable.

And that was when he feared that Emerson’s mind was already made up. That he could only ever be Rhys’s friend. Turned out they were both afraid, but of different things. Rhys was terrified of losing more of himself, and Emerson was frightened of losing another important person in his life. He’d never gotten over the devastating loss of his parents, and there was a good chance he’d be unwilling to dismantle any more pieces of his heart.

He’d been so strong, picking up the pieces of himself and patching them together again to create a life. Emerson was a cautious and complicated person, and when he calculated the risks with Rhys, he might cut his losses rather than gamble on the chance of more heartbreak. And the idea of being without him made Rhys’s gut roil even more.

The sound of birds singing roused Rhys in the morning, and a smile stretched his lips when he realized the blistering headache was gone. Thank fuck.

When he turned over, only to see his friend’s crumpled form in a chair across the room, his pulse quickened. “Emerson.”

He’d stayed in his room just to watch over him? Holy fuck.

“You okay?” Emerson slurred, swiping at his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Awesome.” His voice was rough as he stood up, stretched, and made for the door.

“Why did you stay?” Rhys asked, his heart beating double-time.

Emerson gripped the door handle. “Because you’re family.”

That was the exact moment Rhys knew no other person would ever compare.

26

Emerson

It was Saturday morning, and Emerson was cooking pancakes at Audrey’s request. It was one of the only meals he made that she enjoyed, but he was getting better all around, with Rhys’s help, of course. If they had anything, it was that—their friendship—and it would get easier as long as they agreed not to walk away from it after he moved back home.

But the tension was killing him, and it was all his fault. He just couldn’t shake the idea that Rhys might wake up one day to