Page 15 of My Mom's Man
The thought of Emma homeless is too much to bear.
“The two of you can stay here,” I assure her. “I’ll sleep on the couch. I just think you and I aren’t connecting like we should be, but I care about Emma’s wellbeing. She has a home here.”
Amara swipes at her tears and shoots me a pitiful look. “Is it the lack of sex? I’m just so tired after working all day. Want a blowjob? I can give that to you, Reid. Please don’t do this to us.”
Again, with theus.
“I don’t need that stuff, Amara.” I sigh heavily and scrub my palm over my face. “I guess I’m wanting more of a partner out of life. What we have feels lopsided.”
“Please don’t give up,” Amara begs, tears steadily streaming down her rosy cheeks. “I can do better. In fact, I was thinking about maybe not working so hard so we can spend more time together.”
The desperation in her voice has me feeling guilty as fuck.
Do I keep trying to make this thing work with Amara or am I deluding myself?
“We’ll see,” I say softly. “For now, I think sleeping separately won’t be a bad thing.”
She swipes another tear away. “Okay, but if you change your mind, the bedroom door is always open.”
Amara leaves to retreat upstairs. My mind is still fixated on Emma’s face earlier. I want to ask her about what she and her mom discussed, but it’s probably none of my business.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Cole: I can’t run tomorrow. You guys have fun without me. I’ll catch you on the next one.
You guys have fun without me.
Maybe tomorrow I can find out what upset Emma.
“Where’s Cole?”
I jolt at the sound of Emma’s voice, turning around to face her. She’s in another sexy workout ensemble that’s too damn tempting. But she’s sad and that’s what grabs my full attention.
“Who knows,” I say, stepping closer to her. “What’s up? You’re unhappy.”
“I’m fine.” A slight flinch is her only tell that I’m right and that she’s lying. She takes off in a sprint down the road, avoiding any further probing on the topic.
Following after her is torturous to my cock, so I dig in and tear off after her until we’re jogging side by side. Neither of us speak. The only sounds are the rhythmic pounding of our sneakers and heavy breathing. Asmuch as I want to discuss what’s going on with her, I allow her the space to just sit in her feelings. My own mind is a mess, so I understand the need to analyze everything and work things over in your head.
After our first mile, she begins to relax, muttering about things we pass by on our run. She even stops to pet a dog an elderly lady is walking. Before I know it, she’s taken us to the yellow building again.
What is it about this place that draws her to it?
She walks along the overgrown path and then up the rickety steps to peek in a window. I follow after her but try the handle of the door. It’s unlocked and opens.
“Want to check it out inside?”
She beams at me. “Hell, yeah I do.”
I step through the threshold and scan the big, open space. It’s a typical abandoned building. Someone, at some point, slept here. A pile of filthy blankets and trash litter one corner. From what I can tell, it has a couple of rooms in the back, including a bathroom.
“What did this building use to be?” she asks, ponytail swishing when she turns to look at me. “Maybe a dentist office or something?”
“Honestly, it’s been abandoned for as long as I can remember.” I lift an edge of the peeling, hideous 70s-era wallpaper. “Long enough ago that this was still in style.”
She laughs. “Nothing a little paint can’t fix.”
“It’s going to take a lot more than paint to make this place presentable.”
