Delayed, Nathan Kingsly [read aloud txt] 📗

the first night, and I forgot to pack the charger.”

“Okay? Do you need to get a hold of someone? You can use my phone.”

“I don’t know the number off the top of my head.”

“What kind of phone do you have?”

I glance down at her. “A Samsung.”

She rolls her eyes. “Which model? They came out with a new one, and the charger is different. If it's before the S8, my charger should work.”

“I’m in luck then.”

Emma is finishing up her sandwich on the couch when I go to plug in my phone. Once it powers on, a flood of notifications bombards it. Ignoring social media, email, and weather alerts, I select my texts. There are fifteen waiting for me, all from Mia. Selecting her contact, I write out a message back.

As I attempt to hit send on the next message, her name comes up, and my heart stops in my chest when I instead hit the answer button. I can already hear the panic in her tone before I bring it to my ear. Well, shit.

“Liam?”

“Mia.”

For a long second, the line is dead quiet, and I know the hurricane is nothing compared to what I’m going to get once she regains her voice.

“Listen ...” I start.

“I could beat the ever-living shit out of you. Do you have any idea what you’ve put me through? After the first cryptic text, I called every hotel in South Carolina near and around airports. Do you have any idea how long that took?”

Rolling my eyes, I start to pace. “M ...”

“Five hours and most of them were being dicks. Then, when one too many wouldn’t give me the information, I called the police. The police Liam! There is a missing person report open for your dumb ass. That makes me look like an idiot. I can’t keep track of my brother in a damn tropical storm. Any normal brother would have called to say they were alright. And ...”

“MIA!”

“No. You don’t get to talk to me. Do you have any idea what I've gone through these past three days? They were sure you were dead.” Her voice hovers over the word dead. “They called me to tell me there were a few bodies unclaimed, but I would have to wait until the storm died down to see if you were one of them.” I could hear the tears in her tone in how it wavers, but her next words bite into my skin. “You were dead for thirty-six hours, Liam. You’re never there for me, for us, and this whole thing proves you won’t ever be. Don’t bother coming home. We will be fine, just as we always are, without you.”

The line grows quiet, everything stills in me, up until the dial tone sounds in my ear, and my hand crashes through the bathroom door.

“What the ...” Emma appears beside me, looks between my hand that’s halfway through the door, then at my face. A few seconds pass, my breath still coming out in puffs. Passed my anger, the pain in my hand registers, but the pain I’m more internally acquainted with clings to every exhale, making my body burn.

“Liam?” Her hand is tentative as she places it on my wrist. “We need to take this out and take a look.”

“Liam?” She squeezes my wrist, not hard, but enough to get my attention. When I look down at her, she’s searching, but I’m not sure for what. My mind is still trying to gather a coherent stream of thought. So, when she tugs on my wrist gently, I follow her silent instruction and pull it out.

Once out, she cradles it into both of hers. Making a noise of distress, she walks me to the bed. My knuckles are a bloody mess, but I feel nothing.

“Sit.” She instructs. “Stay right there! I’ll be right back.” When she grabs the room key, panic has me standing and reaching for her arm.

“It’s nothing.”

Her brows furrow. “Liam, look at it. I’ll be surprised if you don’t need stitches. I’ll be but a second. I’m sure the front desk will have something we can use to bandage it up.”

“I’ll go with you.”

She shakes her arm from my grasp, and her hands ball up before they go onto her hips. “Liam…What’s your middle and last name.” When I’m silent too long, she waves her hands in front of her. “Never mind, I would have liked to make the proper threat, but this one will have to do. Okay, here it goes. Liam, if you don’t sit your ass on that bed right now and let me go get some supplies, I swear you’ll sleep on the couch tonight.” Her arms go across her chest, and amusement shadows through all that has me otherwise clouded.

“Emma, there’s enough in this room to take care of it.” Raising an eyebrow, I wait for her answer.

She acts tough for a long second but then gives in with a sigh and the roll of her eyes to emphasize. “Fine. Bathroom.” She leads the way.

Turning on the water in the sink, she tests the temperature before motioning for my hand. Giving it to her, she makes that sound of distress again as she watches the blood fall away and down the drain.

“This may sting.” She takes the hotel soap and rubs it between her fingers before pulling my hand out to probe around my knuckles. Her touch is feather-light.

She keeps looking up with every touch, scanning my face, but the pain making its way to my hand is nothing compared to the turmoil going on inside.

“Will you tell me what that was about?” She’s not looking at me as she asks. Instead, she’s running my hand under the water one more time before pressing hard with a washcloth.

“It’s nothing.”

She looks up, her brows near her hairline. “You threw a punch at a door for nothing?” She flicks her eyes past me. I assume to assess the damage to the door. “Remind me