Chapter 111
Emily's POV
"Jesus, Mason," I said, my voice sharper than I meant it to. "You're freezing. What were you doing, taking a cold shower?"
He didn't answer. Just stood there with his shoulders hunched and his arms wrapped around himself like he was trying to hold his body together.
I turned toward Alex and caught the look on his face.
Cold. Assessing. Like Mason was a problem to be solved instead of a sick kid who needed help.
That look made my defenses flare up hard and fast.
"What did you say to him?" I asked, and my tone came out harder than I'd used with Alex. "What the hell did you interrogate him about?"
"Emily—" Alex started, but I cut him off.
"He's just a kid, Alex. He's sick and he's scared and you don't get to stand here and grill him like he's committed some crime."
Alex's eyes flashed. "A kid? He's eighteen years old. He's legally an adult. And you don't know a damn thing about him except what he's told you."
"I know enough," I shot back. "I know he's running a fever and needs help. That's all I need to know."
"That's all you need to know?" Alex's voice went dangerously quiet. "You brought a complete stranger into our home without telling me. And now you're acting like I'm some kind of monster for asking basic questions about who the fuck he is?"
The profanity hit like a slap. Alex almost never swore at me.
"You weren't asking questions," I said, my voice rising despite my attempt to stay calm. "You were cornering him. I could see it on his face when I got here. You want to know who he is? He's someone who needed help and I helped him. End of story."
"It's not end of story when you're making decisions that affect both of us without even a goddamn phone call," Alex said. His voice was still controlled but I could hear the anger vibrating underneath. "You want to help people? Fine. Great. But you don't get to do it in our shared apartment and then act shocked when I have concerns about it."
"Concerns?" I repeated, my hands clenching into fists. "Is that what you call interrogating a sick teenager the second you get home? Concerns?"
"I call it being responsible," Alex snapped. "I call it not being so desperate to save someone that I throw common sense out the window."
The word 'desperate' landed like a punch to the gut.
"Fuck you," I said. The words came out low and venomous. "Don't you dare make this about my issues. This is about basic human decency. Something you apparently forgot on your way to becoming CEO."
Alex's face went white. Then red.
"You want to talk about decency?" he said, his voice climbing now, control finally slipping. "How decent is it to let me walk in and find some stranger using our bathroom? How decent is it that I don't even know what the fuck happened while I was gone? What you two did while I wasn't here?"
"Are you serious right now?" My voice went sharp with disbelief. "Are you actually accusing me of sleeping with him?"
"I don't know!" Alex's voice cracked on the words. "I don't know, Emily! I come home and there's a strange man in our apartment and you're defending him like your life depends on it and I don't know what else would make you choose him over me!"
"Choose him over—" I stared at him, something cold settling in my chest. "You think I fucked him. That's what this is about. You actually think I brought him here to—"
"I think I don't know what to think!" Alex shot back. "You won't give me a straight answer about anything. You just keep telling me to trust you, to back off, like I'm supposed to be okay with all of this without any explanation!"
"I did explain!" My voice rose higher than I meant it to. "I explained everything! I found him in the rain, he was hurt, he needed help. But you don't believe me. You just keep making up scenarios in your head about what I did. When did you become like this, Alex?"
The words were out before I could stop them.
And the second they left my mouth I wanted to take them back. Accusing your partner of changing. Of becoming someone else. That wasn't arguing anymore. That wasn't trying to make him understand.
That was just trying to hurt him. Trying to win some fucked up battle neither of us should be fighting.
Alex's face went dark. The anger drained out of his expression, replaced by something cold and closed off.
He was silent for several seconds.
When he finally spoke his voice came out flat. Controlled again in a way that was somehow worse than the shouting.
"We should cool down," he said.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Mason made a small sound—something between a gasp and a whimper—and I realized he was shaking.
"He's getting worse," I said, my anger at Alex momentarily pushed aside by immediate concern. "Mason, can you hear me?"
He was too weak to answer properly. He just nodded, his arms wrapped tight around himself.
"I need to get him settled," I said, not looking at Alex. "And then we need to talk. But not in front of him."
"Emily—"
"Alex."
The steel in my voice must have registered because Alex went quiet.
I guided Mason toward the hallway, my hand steady on his back even though my own hands were shaking with adrenaline.
"Come on," I said gently. "Let's get you somewhere you can sit down."
"I need to dry my hair first," Mason said. His words came out slightly slurred. "It's still wet. I'll get sicker if I don't dry it."
"I'll help you," I said. "Just come sit down first before you fall down."
He let me lead him toward the couch, his steps unsteady and his body leaning heavily against mine.
I heard Alex let out a frustrated sigh behind me, followed by heavy footsteps. He must have gone back to his room—maybe he didn’t want to see us.
I didn't turn around.
I steered Mason toward the couch, but before I could move away he caught my hand.
"What is it?" I asked, crouching down. "What do you need?"
He didn't answer right away. Just held onto my hand like it was the only warm thing in the world.
Then very slowly he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against my stomach.
"I'm cold," he said, his voice barely audible. "Can you just hold me for a second? Please? My mom never did this when I was sick. She never wanted to touch me."
Something in my chest cracked wide open.
I wrapped my arms around his head and pulled him closer, trying to transfer some of my body heat to him while he shook against me.
"It's okay," I murmured. "You're okay. I've got you."
His hands came up to grip the sides of my shirt. Desperate. Clinging.
I was so focused on trying to stop his shaking that I didn't hear Alex come back to the living room until he spoke.