17. Emmett

17

EMMETT

I woke up feeling like I was in a cloud.

Memories of last night floated through me like hazy dreams: the beautiful snow, the bath, and then every little moment with Storm, flooding in with a rush of warmth.

It had been one of the hottest nights of my life. I'd felt closer to him than I knew I could—closer to him than I'd ever really felt with anyone, even though that was a crazy thing to imagine.

I shifted under the covers and felt the warm bulk of the side of his body, right there next to me. His words from last night hit me: I want you to claim me, Emmett. Like I fucking belong to you .

The things that had slipped out of his mouth last night… I couldn't let myself think about it for too long, because my brain and my heart and my cock were going to go places they definitely shouldn't go.

And then, moments later, I felt the inevitable dread start to pool in the pit of my stomach. Like there was an invisible noose being tied around my neck, and I knew that later today, it would be pulled tight.

I had to go into work and face Cutmore. Face my boss and talk to him about why the Racks deal fell through, and try to somehow salvage my standing.

The clock on my bedside table read 7:06 a.m.

Not enough sleep. Not even close. But there was no way I was going to be able to sleep anymore now, and I knew I had to head into the office sooner or later and bite the bullet with Cutmore.

I tried to slide out of bed without making noise or shaking the bed.

It would be easier this way. I could slip out without being noticed and Storm would be able to get out of here without any awkward chit-chat.

Because if I knew anything, it was that after a night like last night, Storm was probably going to want to high-tail it out of here. He was probably going to slowly talk to me less and less.

I had no more buttons for him to push.

The Racks deal had fallen through, and he'd had his fun in bed with me, taking things further than either of us ever imagined. I wasn't going to hold his interest for much longer, and it would be easier to accept that now.

Right as I was about to slide off the bed, I felt a warm pair of big, mitt-like hands clasp around my waist.

"Nice try," Storm grumbled in a sleepy voice.

"You're up?" I asked.

God, his hands felt good on my hips.

"I would say I'm only, like, twelve percent awake," he murmured, his hands squeezing gently on my waist, "but my body sensed that you were up. I have a hot-guy radar system, or something."

"Radar system, huh?" I said, leaning back a little.

"Might just be my cock," he said.

I puffed out a laugh. "Thought you were going to slip out of here silently after I left," I admitted.

"Nope," he said. "Because you're not leaving. You're going to stay here with me in bed all day, and fuck me again, and let me fuck you, and hopefully kiss me a lot. Oh, Emmett, I had a question for you. Who's your favorite photographer?"

I finally turned around to look at him, which was a mistake, because he looked so intensely adorable that I was drawn back to him like a magnet. His hair was all fucked up from sleep, and his eyes were barely open, the grey-blue just peeking through in the faint morning light.

He didn't look like a person awkwardly regretting the night before.

He looked so inviting it gave me a full-body ache.

"Favorite photographer?" I asked idly, still a bit distracted by his eyelashes.

"Yeah. You have a lot of cool ones along the hallway walls."

I nodded. "I like the classic, black-and-white street photography best. Cartier-Bresson is probably my favorite. I could never get sick of his work."

He hummed, blinking up at me and reaching one hand up and running it along the side of my face.

"Kiss me," he said.

Okay, maybe he did still have some buttons to push with me.

My cock perked up even though I knew I needed to get out of here. Storm was on some mission to get me to forget work even existed, as far as I could tell.

"Quit it. I have to go to work," I said as he tugged on the side of my body.

"I know. I have to get up and shower and go in for practice, too," he said. "Kiss me first, though?"

I leaned forward and gave him a small kiss, but in a moment he held me closer, bringing my body up tight against his. He kissed me slowly, then pressed a few more to my cheeks and my temple, finally giving me one more on the top of my head.

I'd had entire relationships without that much affection. Sad, but true. I didn't know if Storm was still in a post-sex daze or if he really was just trying to push some new button with me, but his kisses felt…

Perfect.

Just like everything had felt last night, too.

He pulled back and looked me in the eyes, his expression turning serious.

"Don't let your boss fuck with you, Emmett," he said. "Okay? Can you at least promise me that?"

"Can't exactly do much if he does decide to pass me up for the promotion," I said. "It's his call, at the end of the day."

"One failed brand deal should never matter that much," Storm said.

"I agree with you," I said. "And I wish it didn't, but sometimes, it does."

His eyes searched my face. "You deserve better."

For so long, I'd been desperately grateful for the opportunities I'd always had. Most people never got a chance to work for their father's company. Most people didn't have the privileges I had. I'd always felt like I was the lucky one because I was able to work at Lux Marketing, and had always hoped to reach the highest levels of the company and hopefully make it my own, one day.

But for Storm to say I deserved better… the thought had never even crossed my mind.

Lux Marketing had just always been my whole world, my whole career. No one had ever questioned anything about that.

I cleared my throat. "I agree. The company deserves better than a guy like Cutmore still being at the top."

Storm gave me a resolute look. "And you deserve better than ever being made to feel like you're a failure," he said softly.

I furrowed my brow. "Since when do you care about anything like that?"

"What do you mean?"

I bit my lip, looking down at him. "Why do you give a damn what happens at my job?"

"Because I like you," he said.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, is that right?" I teased. "You like me one moment then want to mess with my head the next?"

He leaned up from the pillow, giving me another little kiss before he squeezed me one last time, then hopped out of bed.

"Nah," he said, walking across the room, still naked and looking so fucking good in the slanted morning light. He turned back to me, his eyes glinting, giving me a dimpled smile. "I decided I just like you. Simple as that."

I sat there motionless for a second, watching as he waltzed into my bathroom, and started to wash up. His phone sounded out a jingly little ringtone from the bedside table, and he came out again still naked and picked up the call.

"Yep," he answered. "Hey, Marcus. I'll be in by eight. Hope your quads are ready because it's leg day, motherfucker."

He laughed a bit as he chatted with one of his teammates, and I got up and got ready for work, putting on one of my best suits for the day ahead.

A few minutes later we were both by the front door, ready to leave. He leaned against the doorframe, looking perfectly at home in my house. Just a short while ago, I wouldn't have been able to imagine a moment like this. The beautiful morning light reflecting onto his face, and the slow, kind smile he gave me.

"What did you mean by that?" I asked him as I walked over to his side. "That you decided you like me?"

He ran a hand along my arm.

"What do you think?" he said playfully. "You're the one who's the genius here."

"You think I'm a pompous prick who drives excessive cars and wears clothes that are too fancy," I said, "but you like me?"

"Absolutely," Storm said. "And you're nothing like anyone I've ever been with before, or anyone I've ever met before, really. You represent everything I should hate."

"Exactly."

"And I'm pretty sure that's why I like you so much," he said, a kindness in his eyes that almost broke my heart. "You're so yourself . No apologies. Just like me. We're exactly who we are."

I nodded, watching him. "That's true."

Why was it so hard for me to believe that he could like me for me? So many of the people in my past really had just seen me as a list of accomplishments and labels: school, money, career, excellence.

But Storm had hated all of those things, and still been able to see the real me through all of that. To be able to stand here and tell me he liked me, after everything?

He cupped the sides of my face, kissed me again, and pulled away to step through the front doorway. I could see the snow behind him, and it looked like something out of my dreams.

A handsome man kissing me goodbye on a chilly fall morning.

A man who really liked me back, too.

"You don't have to like me back," he said as he took a step outside into the snow. "But you should know what you're worth. With me, or your boss, or anyone else. Fucking rock it today, Emmmet. No fear."

He pumped his fist in the air as he took off in a jog toward his house and hopped into his Bronco.

It was like a tornado had just rolled through my house. Through my heart.

I grabbed my phone and dialed Landry, barely thinking it over first.

"Emmett," Landry answered.

I walked out into the snow, my shoes making a satisfying crunch. I opened the garage from outside and walked to the side of the Porsche.

"Landry," I said. "I have a question."

"Is it about Cutmore?" he asked. "Because I'm about to head into the office, too. If you think he's going to chew you out, I can come in and be right there next to you."

I breathed in a lungful of crisp, cold air. "Actually, I don't think I'm worried at all about what Cutmore might say."

"Really?" Landry asked, genuine surprise in his voice. "What's up, Emmett?"

I cleared my throat. "Is it bad if I am falling for a formerly straight pro football player who's the opposite of everything I am?" I asked bluntly. "That can't possibly be a good thing, can it?"

I felt like I may as well have just run naked through the center of town. Like I was suddenly airing every private thought I'd been keeping inside.

Had I really just admitted that out loud?

Or to myself?

But Landry's melodic laughter came through the phone. "Oh, Emmett."

It was so good to hear him laugh.

"Am I losing my mind?" I asked.

"Let me guess," he said. "Did you finally charm the pants off of Storm again and you're ready to admit you two are cute together?"

" Cute together?" I protested. "Are you the one who's out of your mind?"

"I saw you two together," Landry said. "You were at each other's throats, but you also looked at each other like you were the center of the universe. Yes, you're cute together."

"I did not charm the pants off him ," I said. "It was more like the other way around. He ended up at my house, and then it snowed, and…"

"And of course, of course, you can't help but fall for someone on the first snowy night of the year," Landry teased.

I breathed out a long sigh. "I'm pretty sure I could fall for Storm even if I was at the top of an active volcano. As much as the snow does turn me into a hopeless romantic. I'm pretty sure I still also want to fight him, multiple times a day, but… it's starting to feel like even when we fight, it ends up with both of us smiling."

"Wow. You really like him."

"Shut up. God, how is that possible?"

"It's not just possible," Landry said. "I think it's the best thing you've told me in years."

I sighed, sliding into the front seat of the Porsche. "This morning should be awful, for me. I should be dreading the meeting with Cutmore so badly I can barely speak. But instead I feel like I'm on a cloud."

"A Storm cloud," Landry said.

I groaned.

"It's a good thing you're my best friend, because otherwise I'd slap you in the face as soon as we got in the office."

"You wouldn't," he said. "Emmett, I'm happy for you. Really happy. You needed this."

I bit my lower lip.

I knew he was right. I really did need this. Even though it was still terrifying to admit.

"I'm not going to get my hopes up," I said. "Everything is new. Storm was under the impression that he was straight until recently. And we did hate each other."

"I don't think you ever really hated each other," Landry said. "I think you were just both too blind to see how good you are together."

"I have to head into the office now," I said. "I'll see you there."

I knew things would be bad with Cutmore, but I had no clue just how bad.

It seemed like a typical meeting at first—his expression was stern, and he looked at me like a school principal about to scold a first grader, but that was how Cutmore looked half the time, anyway.

This office used to be my dad's, and Cutmore had taken it over, only a few weeks after my dad had passed.

I still hated it. I hated sitting in this chair across from him, knowing that I used to feel so happy, so loved , in this same spot.

"I was disappointed by you on this Racks deal," he said a few minutes into the meeting.

Of course .

"I did everything I could," I said. "The financial projections were so solid from the Fixer Brothers. Everything should have been a done deal."

Cutmore's icy eyes went straight through me. "Maybe it wasn't about the, uh, Fixer Brothers' financials."

I blinked at him. "What do you mean?"

He lifted his eyebrows. "Maybe, for a good family company like Racks, it was more about the Fixer Brothers' lifestyle ."

That word hit me right in the chest.

Lifestyle.

From Walter Cutmore, that meant one thing and one thing only. The Fixer Brothers happened to be openly gay, and for Cutmore, that meant they weren't wholesome. Weren't a good family company.

I cleared my throat. "That wasn't an issue at all."

"I don't know about that, Emmett."

"I've met the Vice President of Racks, and she and her son are both members of the queer community—"

Cutmore turned his nose up. "Yes, yes, I'm aware of that," he said, the last word coming out with a venom in his tone. "Every company needs to play politics these days, don't they?"

I furrowed my brow. "What are you insinuating?"

"Emmett, it's well known in the business community that not everyone who is hired for positions is actually qualified for them."

Anger flared through my chest.

Don't react.

Just. Don't. React.

"I think she was extremely qualified, but that's not what the important part of this conversation is. I'm willing to take the loss for this Racks deal, but I know that going forward with the Fixer Brothers, we can find other avenues of branding and marketing that will be phenomenal. Trust me on this."

Cutmore sniffed, looking down at his desk and tapping a pen on its surface.

"Your father wouldn't be proud of your direction this year, Emmett."

A chill ran through me where hot rage had been before.

For a moment, I was numb. Frozen in place, in disbelief about what I'd just heard.

A tightness wound itself around my chest, like my heart itself was being constricted.

"My dad," I finally managed to say, not knowing how to even finish the statement.

Something wasn't right.

Something that had been wrong for far too long, actually.

"Your father—"

"Don't ever speak to me about my father again," I heard myself say, like it was coming from somewhere deep within.

His eyes widened. "Emmett?"

My throat was tight. Part of me was in disbelief that I was even able to talk like this to him, but I was watching myself do it. Unable to stop myself, really.

All I could think about was my father. The love he had for me, and for this company. How could it feel like it was ages ago, when it had only been two years? How could Cutmore have taken over this office and made such a familiar place into something so hostile?

"Don't ever tell me what Dad would or wouldn't be proud of," I said.

Because he hated you, too, after how you changed over the years.

How you became this monster.

Focused on only profit. Committed to tearing other communities down.

"I think you're out of line," he said, narrowing his gaze at me. "And I think that's something that could be reflected in your performance evaluation."

"You've wanted me gone since the moment Dad died, haven't you?" I asked.

My throat was constricted and tight. I was saying things now that I usually wouldn't even have let myself think inside the walls of this office building.

But something had been kicked loose inside me.

And I was pretty sure there was no going back now.

"You're not what your father was, but you've always been a dutiful worker," Cutmore said, shifting on his leather seat. "But I'm not sure that's what's being demonstrated here today."

"And you're not what my father was, either," I said. "I—I can't work for someone who is bigoted, Cutmore."

He puffed out a laugh. " Bigoted ," he said, as if it were a joke.

"Homophobic," I said pointedly. "And hostile to anyone who isn't like you."

There was nothing left for me to hide, now. A stray tear fell down my cheek that had been threatening ever since he'd brought up my dad.

"There will be serious repercussions for what you're saying to me," he said, but he made no attempt to deny what I'd called him. Deny what he was .

I swallowed past the tightness in my throat.

"I'll have my resignation letter ready within the hour," I said. "I won't work here anymore. And I do feel that I deserve better."

Cutmore just laughed again

But I felt it deep in my bones.

Storm had told me that I deserved better. I knew I did. But I'd been so dead set on keeping myself in the company that Dad helped build that I hadn't realized that that company barely even existed anymore.

This was no longer my dad's legacy. It was nothing he would have wanted.

Nothing I wanted, either.

"Career suicide," Cutmore said, giving me a beady glance as I stood up and walked toward the office doors.

"Maybe," I said. "But staying here would be far worse."

My hand was shaking as I pushed out through the doors of his office. Panic settled under my skin, but beyond it, there was some deeper, truer feeling.

Relief.

Like I was flying.

Deep, total relief, on a level I hadn't felt before.

"Yikes," Landry said casually as I swung by his office and peeked my head in. "From how you look, I'm guessing the meeting didn't go well? Cutmore give you a bunch of scut work as punishment?"

"It's over," I said.

He cocked his head to one side. "What?"

"Landry, if I were to start my own marketing company," I said, "Go off on my own, and build something from the ground up… would you follow me?"

Landry grimaced. "Meeting go that badly? Even you are fantasizing about quitting? I've never heard you say that."

I swallowed. "Not fantasizing about it. I already did it."

Landry watched me for a moment. "No shit."

"No shit," I said.

I held out my hands, showing him that they were still shaking.

"Wow," he finally whispered as it dawned on him that I really meant it. "Holy shit."

"Yeah," I said. "I didn't plan on it. But he was already being unsupportive, and then he brought up my dad's name, and I just—I couldn't , Landry. I couldn't."

Tears were breaking off from my eyes again as I stood in the doorway. Landry got up and came to give me a hug, holding me.

"Well, then, you did the right thing," he said. "And I would follow you to a brand-new company at the drop of a hat, Emmett."

I laughed and sobbed all at once, pulling back. "Thank you, Lucky. I don't know what I'm going to do, but I know I have to."

"I knew you could do it, by the way," he said. "I always knew that you'd be a great business owner if you went off on your own. I just never thought you'd be willing to leave Lux Marketing."

"This place isn't what he built, anymore," I said. "But we can create something that's close. I sure fucking hope we can. It'll be small at first, and it'll be a while before we can get a large base of clients, but it'll be worth it, Landry, I really think it will—"

"It will," he confirmed.

I swayed on my feet, reaching back and leaning against the wall of his office. "Jesus, this has been a wild 24 hours."

"You're telling me," Landry said. "I think you need a vacation."

"Right," I said. "Hey, maybe I'll quit my job."

We laughed softly, but the enormity of what I'd just done was still sitting on me like the weight of the world.

But I knew it was for the better.

And I knew there was one person in particular who had given me the push that I had desperately needed for years.

I felt like I could melt into the floor the moment I thought of Storm. He had come into my life seeming like an obstacle, but in reality, he was exactly the change I'd needed. More than anything.

"You're going to be okay," Landry said.

"There's a whole new world out there."

He smiled. "And it's going to be awesome."

My resignation letter had been drafted by lunchtime. It turned out that it was very easy to quit a job, even if it was one you'd had for your whole life. I turned it in at HR, grabbed a box, and packed up my things.

And I walked out of the Lux Marketing building feeling like I'd just been reborn. There was snow still coating the trees, but the sun was starting to peek out, making everything shimmer in the light.

It was going to be hard work.

I would need to take lots and lots of meetings with former clients and potential future clients. I already had so many strong networks and social relationships, but I would need to lean on them even more.

But as I breathed in the crisp air outside, I felt like I could do it. For myself. For Storm. And, always, for Dad.

In fact, there was a former client that I was set to have a dinner meeting with tonight, who was looking for marketing for a new beverage company startup he was founding. He was a big football fan, and I knew he'd love to meet with me and Storm.

The real work could start now.

I pulled out my phone, buzzing with excitement, and I texted Storm.

Emmett : Storm, I did something crazy. I know you're at practice right now, but let me know if you're free tonight. Come to dinner with me and an old friend?