Page 304 of Small Town Firsts

The texts between Emmalyn and her friends hold little to no useful information, but her thread with her mother is enlightening, to say the least.

I always knew Sarah Pearson was a piece of work, but the way she speaks to her daughter leaves a hell of a bad taste in my mouth. And there’s literally been one contact with Emmy since she got here. One.

My dad’s been known to be an epic asshole; so much so, that my mother divorced him—twice.But even he would never speak to me the way Emmalyn’s mom does her. She’s cold and dismissive.

It makes me wonder, more than ever, what really went down between her and Rob.

After tossing her phone into the cupholder, I lean back across the center console to buckle her seat belt. She stirs slightly when it clicks into place, mumbles under her breath, and turns away from me.

I punch the start button and drive us back to my place, hoping she’s not down for the night. I’d like to ask her a few questions while she’s more likely to speak truth—assuming she can sober up enough to hold a coherent conversation, that is.

By the time I make it home, Emmalyn is starting to wake.

“What? Where... Sterling?”

“Let’s get you inside.” I cut the engine. “Stay put and I’ll help you.”

I pocket my keys and her phone before moving to the passenger side. She tries to open the door on her own, but can’t quite seem to swing it out far enough to stop it from closing on her.

“I said to stay put,” I scold her, using my body to keep the door in place.

“I’m tired.”

“I’ll make you some coffee.”

She perks up a little at the mention and allows me to haul her from her seat.

“You steady?” I ask, reluctantly liking the feel of her body tucked into mine.

At her nod, I step away, but she stumbles instantly. “Ugh!”

“Not so much then.” I guide her arm around my shoulders and wrap mine around her waist. “Come on.”

We make it inside without a hitch, and I deposit her on the couch. “Coffee coming up, little mouse. Don’t puke on my couch.”

“Ha-ha.” She scrunches her nose and flops back onto the overstuffed cushion.

I can hear her grumbles and groans all the way in the kitchen, even over the gurgle of the coffee machine. When she said she didn’t drink, I didn’t anticipate just how much alcohol would disagree with her.

Then again, I should have expected it. Emmalyn’s contrary by nature.

After the drip is done, I pour an oversized mug for Emmalyn. “Drink up.”

It takes her a second to sit up, but the second she manages it, she’s reaching my way with grabby hands. “Gimme.”

Passing it to her, I chuckle and take a seat beside her.

“So good.”

“Did you have fun tonight?” I ask, testing the waters.

She sips her drink, tilting her head to the right and then to the left. “I... maybe? Did you?”

“The best time ever.” I reach my arms over my head, stretching, before spreading them out across the back of the couch.

“Tell me something, Sterling,” she says, throwing my earlier words back at me.

“I think you’re beautiful.”

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