Broken & Torn (Emerald Falls #1)

8. 8

8

PARKER

I ’m home from dinner with my family and my thoughts are racing.

Seeing my dad embracing Lyla made me stop in my tracks. I’d heard her sniffles and instantly froze. I had cleared my throat to alert them of my presence and they had abruptly broken apart, with Lyla wiping at her eyes. I’m not sure what they had been talking about but she had steered clear of me all night. She was so withdrawn with me, but not with my family. With them, she had been charismatic and outgoing. She talked to Chris about his job, to Lucy about school, to Peyton about music and to my dad about different books she was hoping to add to our shelves.

This last week has been… interesting. Seeing her with the customers, she has this light about her. But once they left and she thought I wasn’t watching, I saw that confidence go dormant. Something makes me feel like she’s putting on a show for people. Giving little pieces and glimpses of herself, but only what she finds acceptable to present to them. As if she’s been shoved into a box and feels she has to put her best foot forward at all times. I sense myself getting soft on her because I know exactly how that feels .

And damn, if it didn’t melt my heart to see her on the floor with my niece, coloring books strewn around them. Lyla had looked extremely focused on hers, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she colored.

Annie had never wanted to do things with Lucy and it had bothered me. She barely wanted to integrate herself with my family, often times choosing to stay at home while I came here alone. I would come home after spending time with them and she would be on the phone with her friends in the city, talking about how lonely she was here. It never made sense to me why she felt that way when she had me and my family, who welcomed her with open arms. It never occurred to me that it was because she hadn’t been invested. In me, in my family, in my town.

I still remember the words she uttered the day that she left.

“I can’t marry you, Parker. It’s not enough for me—this life, this town. I need adventures and places open past nine. I need to be able to shop and go out for dinner at high end restaurants. Not to the crappy Italian place you always take me to. I need more. And you can’t give me those things. It’s over.”

I place a hand over my chest and rub at the ache forming there. Every time I play the conversation in my head, it hurts. Her leaving, me begging her to stay and promising I could give her a good life. A happy life. She had scoffed at me and slammed the door in my face. She had a heart of stone and I hadn’t even realized it until that moment. I had been too blinded by the love I thought I felt for her, until it occurred to me that it wasn’t real. I had never experienced having a true partner and a best friend. I had never experienced the love my parents had.

And I wasn’t sure that I ever would.

The previous night made me think too much of Annie. I’d been triggered, and my anxiety was at an all-time high today.

I’ve struggled with anxiety for as long as I can remember. On my first day of kindergarten, I had my first anxiety attack and it has been a struggle ever since. In those moments, my heart rate goes up and my palms become damp with sweat. Breathing becomes difficult and sometimes I get so anxious that I throw up. My thoughts spiral and turn into obsessing over anything and everything. Past, present, and future. It’s almost impossible to stop the tail spin that happens within my mind.

My family is incredibly understanding about it. They know that it’s something that I can’t control and never tell me to “just stop thinking about it,” like some other unhelpful people in the past have tried to say. My therapist once explained to me that anxiety is your fight or flight response going off and getting triggered. We can re-wire our brain to either get more anxious by avoidance, or we can persevere and teach our brain that it’s okay and to calm the fuck down by doing small exposures.

This led me to my love of hiking. I’ve always been a hiker, having grown up in a mountain town, but as I’ve gotten older, it has become a lifeline. Something that gets me out of the house and out of my head. Being surrounded by nothing but nature and the sounds that come with it is truly the most peace I’ve ever felt in my life. It stills my mind. It makes me feel like I can take full breaths. And most importantly, it makes me feel in control of my illness. The feeling of overcoming your anxiety that day and moving your body is completely liberating.

Remembering that is what led me here—Emerald Falls. The falls that our town is named after.

My eyes take in my surroundings and I take a nice, soothing breath. I inhale deeply, allowing my senses to take over. My nostrils fill with the scent of fresh water and pine trees and my muscles begin to relax. The waterfall is crashing loudly with the mountains rising above it. The trees are still a vibrant green and sway in the breeze. I can hear the birds chirping and grasshoppers singing.

I sit on a boulder in front of the falls and lift my camera to take the shot. Having a camera out here is a necessity for me because I’m constantly seeing beauty in places. Even places I’ve been before feel like a new world when I return with a new perspective. I had hundreds of photos of the Emerald Falls and each one felt different. I guess that’s the thing I love about photography. You can take pictures of the same thing, over and over, but the tone is different within every set. It’s a true form of expression and something that I’ve always had an eye for.

As I venture back up the trail, my thoughts move to Lyla. I know she’s an artist too and I begin to wonder what kind of art she likes. How does she view the world when she’s practicing her art form? Does it calm her just as photography calms me? Something about her, despite my initial skepticism, is entirely captivating. I know that there’s so much I don’t know about her, but I find myself observing her body language and her small quirks.

The way she throws her head back in a laugh when she finds something really funny. The way she chews on the inside of her cheek when she’s deep in thought or nervous. The way her eyes light up when she talks about Sarah J Maas books. And finally, the way she smiles so sincerely at the people of this town. That smile has never been directed at me, but I secretly hope for the day that I’m on the receiving end of it. After spending so much time at the store with her, I feel the frost in my heart melting. I, without a doubt, know that she’s a good person to her very core. That realization fills me with regret. The way I’ve been acting is unacceptable and needs to change. I know that I can’t continue to ice her out.

So, I decide I’m going to make Lyla my friend.

Monday morning comes quicker than I anticipated. I spent the weekend in anxiety’s grip despite my best efforts and two hikes, so I’m highly irritable today. I know that I have to try and make things right between me and Lyla, but I’m not sure if I have the patience right now. I’m tense, and just want to get the day over with.

When I arrive at the store, Lyla is dusting the shelves and counters, humming to the music playing from the speakers. Her coffee is on the edge of one of the shelves when her elbow knocks into it.

Everything happens in slow motion—Lyla moving to grab it before it tumbles, the lid flying off, and finally, coffee splattering all over some of our hardcover collections.

I snap.

“Are you kidding me, Lyla? Your sugary coffee just completely ruined some of our expensive collections! God you just don’t think, do you? Why was your coffee even there? Fuck, now we have to clean this up and I have to figure out how much money you just lost us. So thanks for that.” I throw my hands in the air and let out an angry grunt.

I expect her to fight back. I expect her claws to come out and shred me to pieces just like she always does when we fight.

What I don’t expect her to do is turn on her heel and run out of the store with unshed tears in her eyes. I feel instant regret. I was supposed to be making nice with the girl. Instead, I let my mood get the best of me.

A throat clears and I find my dad standing in the doorway of the office, shaking his head at me.

“Parker, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry, I’m having a day. It was a long weekend and I’m feeling frayed, but I shouldn’t have lost it like that. Fuck, that girl brings out the worst in me.”

“No, she doesn’t. She has been nothing but sweet and reliable since she’s been here and she has been trying to be civil with you at every turn. Dammit, Parker. Everything about that girl’s character has impressed the hell out of me and we might lose her because you can’t keep your temper at bay.

“Be a dick to me all you want when you’re in these irritable moods, Parker. But don’t you dare speak to Lyla that way ever again. Do you hear me?”

I nod and avert my gaze.

He sighs, “You have no idea what that girl has been through. She needs us, she needs this job, and she needs this fresh start. You need to apologize to her, now. Before she packs up and leaves just like you wanted her to.”

With that, he storms back into the office, slamming the door behind him. I stand there alone and the silence is deafening, which causes me to spiral.

What if she leaves?

What if she files a complaint with the labor boards?

I hate that I disappointed and upset my dad. What if he looks at me differently after today?

And what did he mean by “what she’s been through”?

A constant stream of negativity and uncertainty floods my system and my chest begins to feel tight. I have to find her and I have to make this right.