Chapter 22 Byron #2
“You want to know what has her so worked up, she ends up crying most days?”
Well, that was unexpected. Byron downed the last dregs of his beer and got up to pull a second from the fridge. He grabbed one for Tucker without asking, dropping it onto the table before sitting back down.
“Emory’s thinking of leaving.”
Ouch. Byron knew that was on the cards for her, but he also knew that what they had was something.
“According to Mya, Jaxon is kicking Emory out of the cottage. She said there’s no point finding a new rental when she might move to the city in a few months anyway. As soon as the flood’s down, Emory is going to start looking at somewhere to go.”
Byron rolled his shoulders forward and slouched into his chair.
He dropped his head against the table, no longer caring if Tucker saw just how deeply this cut him.
All this time, he’d been wondering if she would stay here once Jaxon kicked her out, and she’d been planning her exit.
He should have done something sooner, made sure she knew just how much he cared for her long before she even thought about leaving.
“She can’t leave.” He meant to say more, he wanted to say more, but the grating sound of the back door sliding open cut him off.
Emory carried Clayton inside, kicking her shoes into the bucket before pulling Clayton’s off. Byron jolted upright in his seat and took a long swig of his beer. The frothy liquid did nothing to ease the lump in his throat, but he was starting to suspect it was becoming permanent.
Clayton ran for Tucker as soon as Emory let him on the ground and climbed into his uncle’s open arms. When he reached for Tucker’s beer, Emory moved it to the centre of the table and dropped a red water bottle in its place.
“There’s a bag of stuff for you on the counter,” Tucker told her. “Smells fruity and fresh. Mya said you’d appreciate them?”
“My candles,” Emory squealed. She dropped her nose into the bag sitting on the bench, inhaling deeply with her eyes closed. “Ever since I finished the one Byron bought, I’ve been dying to try the other scents. Please tell her thank you.”
Tucker’s eyes widened, and he kicked Byron under the table. Byron gave his head a sharp shake and kicked him back.
“So …” Oblivious to their silent berating, Emory moved back to the table with a grin. She shoved her hip against Tucker’s arm when he didn’t respond. Byron watched as she tried to get Tucker’s attention, poking his arm and humming loudly.
“Ugh.” She gave up, dropping into the seat next to him. “How’s Mya?”
Tucker ignored the inflection in her question. “She’s fine. Didn’t you just talk to her last night?”
“Yes, but I want to know what you think.”
This, Byron realised, was one of the many things he loved about Emory.
The friendly banter she could get in with just about anybody.
He loved it most when it was directed at him, but Tucker was a close second.
There was nothing romantic or lustful about how Emory and Tucker got along.
They were family, that was all. He watched her jab at his arm, waiting for him to give in.
His chest pulled toward her, but the reality of what Tucker had said began to sink into his bones.
He loved her, but she was thinking about leaving town.
There was no time to dwell, though, not while Tucker was still here at least. Because his own troubles aside, Byron was curious how things were going with Mya and Tucker.
He hadn’t even known Tucker liked the reserved librarian, let alone that they were close enough for her to move in during the flood.
“Okay, okay. Fuck, stop. I mean, fudge.” Tucker cowered behind Clayton, hiding from Emory’s persistent poking. He covered Clayton’s ears, as though that could stop the boy from hearing what he’d said a minute ago.
Byron felt the weight in his shoulders easing a fraction. “Clayton, why don’t you go build a racetrack for the trucks? We’ll play once Tuck heads home?”
Wriggling in Tucker’s lap, Clayton refused. His mop of sandy hair fell to his face, but he blew it away with a sloppy exhale.
“I go on the boat?” he asked.
Tucker and Byron looked to Emory, who glared between them. “I should have known he would ask that.” She sighed as she settled her gaze on Tucker. “I have his swim vest packed somewhere. Do you think it would be safe enough?”
“If you’re comfortable with it, sure. We can stay close.”
Emory nodded and reached out to tuck Clayton’s hair back off his face. He looked up at his mother with soft eyes, and his lower lip poked out.
“Go play while Tuck finishes his drink. Then you can go on the boat, okay?”
A grin as bright as the summer sun spread across Clayton’s face as he clapped. Tucker shifted the boy off his lap, and Clayton toddled off toward the toys spread around the living room.
Byron watched the whole interaction with a wide grin of his own.
He couldn’t shake the feeling of how right this was.
Emory’s presence had done more than just soften Byron’s heart.
She’d embedded herself into their family and engraved her name on his chest. It was going to hurt if she left.
When she left. Because the more he sat there in his feelings, the more he realised she would.
She’d have to, and he didn’t blame her in the slightest.
Tucker’s deep sigh caught his attention, and Byron shook his shoulders out. Tension was building again.
“Mya is good,” Tucker said. “We just … it’s been tough. My house is as isolated as here right now, and for a while, there was no point even heading out on the boat because everything in town was closed anyway. Being stuck together probably wasn’t what we needed right away.”
He downed the last of his drink and dropped his head between his hands on the table. Byron leant forward in his seat, too far to provide any real comfort, but Emory placed a hand on Tucker’s shoulder.
“You really like her?” she asked.
Tucker’s whole upper body moved with his nod.
“She likes you, too. Okay, it’s been rough. But she’ll go home soon, and everything will be back to normal. You can go about starting a relationship the right way.”
“What if she doesn’t want that?”
“She will.”
Tucker looked up at Emory then, and even from across the table, Byron could see the glisten in his eyes. Byron had no idea Tucker was so invested in his relationship with Mya, but it made him proud.
Emory nodded at Tucker, and he did the same. A short, quick movement before sitting up straight in his chair. He slapped away the moisture on his cheeks and crossed his arms over his chest. Damn boys and their emotions, Byron thought, even though he was exactly the same.