She just let out a single chuckle into the crook of my neck, but didn’t say more.
I wasn’t trying to be funny.
“Paige?” someone called.
I froze, the weight of my footsteps halting the creaking on the floorboards.
Emmy popped her head up and shifted out of my arms, hurrying into her grandmother’s room.
“Yes, Grand-Mère.”
I hung back, not wanting Em to have to face questions about why she was with me so late.
“Where is your father?” her grandma asked.
I heard Em walk around the room, pour some water, and shuffle blankets.
Her father?
But Emmy answered, not missing a beat. “He had to go back to the flower shop. He got you yellow flowers, and he knows better.”
“Red flowers.” Her grandmother’s raspy voice held a hint of humor. “How could he forget?”
“Go to sleep,” Em cooed. “When you wake up, they’ll be here.”
Emory walked back into the hallway, yawning again as she pulled the door closed, only leaving it open a crack.
“Love you, sweetie,” her grandmother called.
“Love you, too.”
She gazed up at me in the dark hallway and took my hand, lying her head on my chest. She was fucking exhausted.
I led her to her room.
“Your father?” I inquired.
Adam Scott died with her mother years ago. Caught in their car when the river flooded during Hurricane Frederic that hit us head on about five years ago.
But Emmy clarified, “My grandfather. Her husband. She thinks I’m my mother sometimes.”
I nodded once, not really knowing what to say to that. It was a lot for a high schooler to deal with. In this moment, I was grateful she spared me any time, considering the bigger things she had on her plate. I was too hard on her.
We entered her room, and I turned on the lights.
But she protested, “No, leave them off.” She made her way for her bed. “I’m so tired.”
She crashed down, not even bothering to undress, and I flipped the switch off again, the room going dark.
“But I don’t want to sleep, either,” she said, yawning again. “Because when the night’s over, it ends. No more fun.”
I walked over, unable to keep the smile off my lips. “Nothing is ending.” I pulled at her comforter and then the blankets, working them out from underneath her to cover her up. “It wasn’t just fun to me, Emmy. Don’t you know that?”
I stared down at her as she turned on her side, and I covered her up.
We weren’t done. I needed more.
“You still don’t trust me?” I asked.