Loud: The Complete Series (A Bad Boy Alpha Male Romance) (19 page)

“You should be!” Dad retorted,
but then immediately pulled me in for a close bear hug. “Aww, you know I can't
joke about stuff like that. You're my sweet baby girl, best thing that ever
happened to me. I'd give up everything, a thousand times over, for my little
BeeBee. Don't ever forget that!”

“Dad!” I exclaimed, blushing
furiously. “You're kind of embarrassing me.”

We all laughed. I couldn't
believe how well Emerson was getting along with my dad. I immediately thought
of how Dad had been with Andrew. Not that Emerson was in the running to take
Andrew’s place; we were just friends. Or so, I kept telling myself. But the
difference in how they interacted was distinct. Dad had disliked Andrew from
their first meeting. He’d always been polite, but very cold with him. I guess
he had had some sort of fatherly instinct about the kind of person Andrew
really was. But with Emerson, they had only just met, yet they were laughing
and joking like two friends who had known each other for years. It made me
wonder if maybe I had misjudged Emerson since the day I’d met him.

CHAPTER
TWENTY

Emerson

I sat on my bike watching as
Brooke said her goodbyes to her parents, and something twisted inside me, just
like it had the moment I saw her genuinely laugh and let go. Being around her
parents, I'd gotten to see a different side of Brooke, one that wasn’t hidden
behind walls — the side she’d been trying so hard to keep concealed from me. It
was a side that was extremely warm, loving, and caring. A side that was open to
so much laughter and so many smiles. As she walked toward me, every fiber of my
being was aware that things had changed. What had begun as a simple, physical
attraction to this woman had turned into something much more than that.

I didn't know what to call it at
that exact moment, so I tried not to think too hard about it as she climbed on
the bike and wrapped her arms around me. I knew all I could do was just let
things happen, go with the flow, and see where it carried us. I wasn't sure if
she was ready for anything serious after what she’d told me about her ex and
all she’d endured. Hell, I wasn’t sure if I was, but I couldn’t keep lying to
myself and trying to pretend I didn’t feel something more than friendship for Brooke.
Something told me things may end up taking a turn in that direction and I was
okay with that.

If there was anything I knew for
sure, it was that Brooke made me feel something other girls didn't. Not only
was the physical attraction there — and always had been — but getting to know
the real Brooke amplified that attraction, making it so much more intense than
I could have imagined. Having her pressed against me as I weaved in and out of
traffic for the thirty-minute ride back to our apartments hadn’t helped.

These thoughts were running
through my mind when we pulled up outside the apartment building and I parked
the bike. Brooke hopped from the back and pulled off her helmet, that adorable
grin pasted across her face again. She looked as if she was really at home on
the motorcycle now. Perhaps a few latent genes from her dad had started to kick
in.

“Thanks for the ride, Emerson,”
she breathed, still beaming a smile.

“It was my pleasure. Glad you
enjoyed it. But I should be thanking you for inviting me to the barbecue. It
was awesome meeting your family.”

“I can tell you mean that,” she
replied. “Especially since it was kinda hard to get you away from my dad. It
was like you two were old friends!”

“We did have a lot to talk
about,” I said. “He's a great guy. Hopefully, I'll get to hang out with him
again sometime soon.”

“We'll see,” she countered with a
cryptic smile until our eyes met for a brief moment and a jolt of energy rushed
through me. It was so obvious, she had to have felt it, too. “Anyway,” she
broke the connection. “We should get upstairs. I've gotta shower, and I've got
a bunch of work I need to get done.”

“Yeah, me, too,” I replied.

As we walked up the stairs, I
realized I didn't want to let the rest of the weekend go by without another
chance to spend some time with Brooke.

“Hey, uh, since I've just eaten
the equivalent of like three meals at your family's expense, how about I repay
the favor?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“How about I make you dinner
tomorrow evening? We should both have finished our work by then.”

“That sounds great, actually.”

A gust of excitement rushed
through me. She actually sounded eager. I hadn’t even had to try to convince
her, which I had mentally prepared myself for. That had to be a good sign. It
had to mean she at least felt a little something for me.

“Cool. I can make enough for
Leslie, as well.”

“Oh, don't worry about that.
She'll be out all evening tomorrow.”

“Okay, so just you and me then?”

“Just you and me,” her tone fell
to a whisper and a lump formed in my throat.

“Make sure to set up some
candles,” I said with a wink.

She chuckled flirtatiously. “As
long as you bring some decent wine, Mr. Reed.”

“Done.”

We reached her front door, which
she unlocked and opened. She turned to face me before she stepped into the
apartment and our eyes locked and held for a few silent, intense moments. I had
the feeling that if I'd have moved in for a kiss, she wouldn't have resisted.
Instead, I broke eye contact, stepping back.

 
“See you tomorrow evening. Around six?”

“Six is perfect. Goodnight,
Emerson,” she replied with a soft smile. With that, she slipped inside and
gently closed the door.

“Goodnight, Brooke,” I said.

I walked over to my place and let
myself in. Chris was lying on the sofa in front of the TV.

“How you feeling, bro?” I asked.
Chris had been sick for the past week. He said it was flu, but I was convinced
it was his body reacting to all the excessive partying and lack of rest.

“Better than I was earlier,” he
muttered, his voice hoarse. “But still not great. How was your barbecue with
Miss Bookworm from next door?”

I rolled my eyes. “Actually, it
was really fun.”

“What did you guys talk about?
Science and shit all afternoon? Maybe play with a chemistry set and a
magnifying glass?” he asked with a condescending sneer.

“I talked to her dad about bikes,
and we had a few beers,” I replied, not taking the bait. “And I ate enough to
keep me going for at least a week. Anyways, man, I've gotta-”

“Study,” he interrupted,
completing my sentence for me. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's all you ever do these
days. Got your nose glued to those damn books. You ain't much fun anymore, E.”

That one cut a little. I suddenly
felt kinda bad. After all, despite his faults, Chris was one of my oldest
friends and I had been neglecting our friendship over the past few weeks.

“You know what,” I replied,
“you're right, dude. I'll leave the books for tomorrow. Let's do something
tonight, just you and me.”

He looked up at me from the sofa
with surprise coloring his expression.

“What, seriously?”

“Yeah, bro. But not going out and
getting wrecked, alright? You're just gonna feel worse if we do that,” I said.

“Agreed,” he replied, to my
surprise.

“Alright. Um, how about a round
of mini golf at the mall and maybe a few sessions in the batting cages after
that? Nothing too strenuous, but it'll do you good to get out, get some fresh
air and a little exercise.”

“Yeah, dude,” he said, smiling as
he heaved himself up from the sofa. “That sounds great.”

“Cool. Get your wallet and let's
roll!”

***

At seven a.m., my cellphone
started buzzing next to my bed. If someone was calling me at that time on a
Sunday morning, it either had to be a wrong number or an emergency. I looked at
the number on my phone screen. It wasn’t a wrong number — it was my stepmother,
Anne.

I rubbed my eyes, still groggy
from the deep sleep I'd been in, and picked up the call.

“Hello?” I mumbled.

“Emerson.”

“Hi, Anne, what's up? Is
everything okay?”

I could tell by the tone of her
voice that something was wrong.

“It's your dad,” she said,
cutting straight to the point.

Dread crept into my veins.
“What's going on?”

“Well, I had to take him to the
emergency room again. He woke up in the middle of the night with severe pain in
his side.”

“Yeah, that's been going on for a
while. Has it gotten that bad now?”

“Actually, Emerson, it has. He
was hoping it wasn’t going to be anything and he wouldn’t have to worry you,
but he went to the doctor earlier this week. They finally checked him out
properly, and…” She paused. Trying to maintain her composure, but she was
clearly on the verge of crying. “They've found a tumor, sweetheart. It’s
cancer.”

I felt as if I'd just been kicked
in the stomach and the breath had been knocked out of me. I wanted to faint and
throw up all at once.

“Oh my God.”

“There is some good news, though.
Well, as good as it can be under the circumstances.”

“Alright. What is it?” I half
whispered.

“They're able to operate. There's
a very good chance they can remove the tumor with surgery, and they said they
don’t believe the cancer has spread. So, while the long term prognosis isn’t
too bad, the problem is the surgery itself. The tumor is close to his vital
organs and it's going to be a risky procedure.”

“When is the operation scheduled
for? I'll come up right now.”

“No, you don't need to come up
now. He's probably going to be knocked out from the pain meds for most of today
and tonight. But, I think he'd appreciate you being here tomorrow, the night
before the surgery.”

“Done. I'll take Monday and
Tuesday off class. I'll leave first thing tomorrow morning and should get there
by late afternoon tomorrow.”

“Thanks, Emerson. You're a good
son.”

“Thanks for calling me, Anne. I
appreciate it. Let me know if anything changes.”

“I will. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

I put my phone down and just lay
back on my bed, my head reeling. I felt so helpless. All I could do was hope
and pray my dad would be alright. In the meantime, I needed to keep my mind off
of it. That meant studying until it was time to cook dinner for Brooke.

***

I knocked on Brooke's door,
carrying a tray with a pot of fragrant ravioli and a few side dishes I'd
whipped up over the course of the last few hours. The cooking had provided me
with a decent distraction from the worry about my dad. In the process of
cooking, I'd realized that worrying was only making me feel worse. There was
absolutely nothing I could do, aside from get to Dad's place the following day
and be there for him before he went in for surgery. For the moment, though, it
was best not to think about it. I hoped being with Brooke would be a big enough
distraction from the horrible situation.

Brooked opened the door with a
smile, and I was slightly surprised to see that she’d put on makeup. Maybe she
was taking dinner a little more seriously than I'd thought she would. I was
immediately glad that I'd shaved, showered, and put on my favorite cologne
before coming over.

I stepped inside and couldn't
help chuckling as I saw that she'd set up a few candles around the place as we
had discussed.

“Nice ambiance,” I said.

“You asked for it. But if you
don’t have wine, I’m blowing them out,” she replied with a wink. “So, what are
you treating me with?”

“Ravioli with a tomato cream
sauce and side dishes of potato salad with herbs, bruschetta with basil pesto,
and some olives and cream.”

“Wow! Going the Italian route,
huh?”

“And,” I said, trying to draw out
the moment of suspense, “some French red. So, don’t you dare touch those
candles.”

With that, I pulled my hand from
behind my back, revealing the bottle of red wine I'd hidden there.

“Oh, awesome!” she exclaimed.

Her eyes looked absolutely
gorgeous as they sparkled in the low, subtle candlelight.

“Well, I dunno about you,” I
said, “but I'm kinda starving. How about we sit down and enjoy this while it's
still hot?”

“That sounds lovely,” she
replied. “Take a seat at the table, and I'll go get the wine glasses from the
kitchen.”

I took a seat and watched her
sashaying over to the kitchen. I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sway of
her hips and the way her dress hugged the contours of her very shapely, firm
butt. I felt a stirring down below and decided I'd better sit down and keep my
lap under the table, lest my excitement become too…obvious.

She returned, smiling and
carrying two wine glasses and a corkscrew, which she set on the table in front
of me.

I uncorked the wine. “Say when,”
I suggested as took her glass to fill. I started pouring, and when the glass
was about three quarters full, Brooke said
when
.

I filled my glass and clinked it
against hers.

“Here's to… Here's to…” I began
but drew a blank when it came to completing the sentence.

“Here's to chemistry,” she said,
finishing my sentence with a cheeky grin.

We both took deep swigs of our
wine and then dove into the food. It was, without bragging too much, pretty
damn delicious.

We chatted as we ate, discussing
topics like our classes, the people in them, our teachers, but also recounting
days from high school, parties we'd been to, funny or embarrassing situations
we'd been in. Chatting with her was natural; the conversation flowed.

Eventually, the topic turned to
my parents. I tried to maintain the upbeat tone of our evening, but I couldn't
help immediately talking about my dad and what I'd learned earlier that
morning. Brooke was so easy to talk to and such a great listener. I felt
comfortable releasing all the emotions I’d had pent up since I’d gotten the
phone call.