Rowdy || 18+ || RH

Chapter 50

Emersyn

Balloons bob against the ceiling, and string lights cast a warm glow over the living room. Fowler flits around the space, making final touches to what he's dubbed the "Welcome Back to the Living" party.

"You didn't have to do all this," I say, my voice a mix of protest and appreciation.

Fowler spins around, a mock look of offense on his face. "And miss an opportunity to celebrate our very own Emersyn Hill's return to life? Never!" He winks, and I can't help but let out a genuine laugh, the first in what feels like ages.

I look around at the swarm of unfamiliar faces. I don't know anyone here besides the guys and Val, but Fowler made the guest list, so I'm sure these people are okay. Fowler asked me which friends of mine to invite and I was slightly embarrassed to tell him that Val is really my only friend, aside from him and the guys.

Don't get me wrong, I used to have a lot of friends. I was never popular or anything, but I had a good group. Slowly, one by one they grew distant until we finally stopped talking altogether.

Part of the problem was that I made Lyle my whole world. I neglected my friends. I turned down so many invitations that I no longer received any. I want to blame Lyle, but it wasn't exactly his fault. Maybe later on in our relationship it would have been. When he was controlling and jealous. But I stopped talking to my friends way before that.

I'm so glad I've found a new group of friends. And I'm glad Val loves them as much as I do. I don't know what I would do without Fowler, Locke, and Cruz. Marx, on the other hand, is still... well I don't exactly know. We're friends, sure. But it isn't like it is with the other guys.

In the days since waking in Marx's bed, his presence has been rare. His responsibilities had clawed him back to the bar. Honestly, I'm not sure he's been home at all.

My gaze drifts across the room and I find him leaning against the counter, his eyes meeting mine with a softness that's rare for him. He raises his glass in a silent toast, an unspoken welcome that settles a flutter in my chest.

I honestly didn't expect him to be here tonight, but I'm really glad he is.

I can still feel his arm wrapped around my waist, his chest to my back. The warmth that came from him.

Valarie, draped in a string of fairy lights, comes over with two drinks in hand, cutting off my view of Marx. "For the lady of the hour!" she exclaims, thrusting a glass towards me. Her vibrant energy is infectious.

I take the glass from Valarie, the cold surface foggy against my fingertips. "Thanks, Val," I murmur.

The drink is sweet with a hint of tartness, a dance of flavors on my tongue that somehow seems to mirror the complexity of my emotions. "This is good," I say, more to myself than anyone, but Valarie beams as if I've announced a grand revelation.

Fowler, now done with his hostly duties, joins us, his arm looping around mine and Valarie's shoulders. "Since I put up all the decorations, you two are taking them down, right?" he teases, nudging me lightly.

I roll my eyes, a smirk tugging at my lips. I playfully swat at Fowler's arm. "In your dreams, Fowler," I retort, the smirk on my face widening into a grin. "I think the guest of honor should be exempt from cleaning duties. I did almost die, remember?"

Fowler laughs, his head thrown back in genuine amusement. "Fair enough. You've earned a night off."

Valarie leans in closer, her fairy lights casting dancing shadows on our faces. "Besides, tonight's about celebrating, not worrying about the aftermath," she adds, her tone light yet insistent. "Let's get shitfaced."