Chapter 25
Emory
Emory was still reeling over, well, everything when Byron woke her up for breakfast the following morning.
She’d barely been able to sleep, worried about the potential implications of what they’d done in the hay shed.
It had been, to be frank, unbelievably fucking mind-blowing.
Something extra had charged through them, and she’d been so swept up in the moment, she’d done something she didn’t want to regret.
She hadn’t lied to Byron, but there was always going to be a slim chance.
Her overconfidence in her diagnosis had failed her once before—even though she considered Clayton her best mistake.
With everything between her and Byron as fresh as it was, the last thing she wanted was to end up forced into a decision. Again.
She’d said as much to Byron last night. He’d reached across the bed and pulled her into his chest, kissing the top of her head and running his fingers along the length of her arm.
Without telling her they didn’t matter, he’d held her fears and promised they’d figure something out.
That no matter what happened, it would be okay.
For the most part, she’d believed him, but the fear gnawed at her from deep inside her chest.
In any other situation, it was an easy fix. Not an ideal one by any means, but only a quick trip to the pharmacy and an embarrassing form to fill out. But last Emory checked, unless they called Tucker to bring his boat back, they still couldn’t leave Gardner Farm.
At least that’s what she’d thought.
She yawned as she shuffled into the kitchen.
Her arms spread wide over her head as she stretched out the kink that lying on the couch for an hour or more always gave her.
The feasts of previous mornings were, apparently, no longer.
Toast replaced hashbrowns, the eggs were scrambled instead of perfectly poached.
But the bacon was just as crispy and delicious, so Emory wasn’t about to complain.
She’d gotten used to being woken up with a five-star breakfast feast, but she couldn’t expect Byron to cook every morning.
Especially now that more of the farm was clearing.
Her work in the chicken coop yesterday had barely scratched the surface of the clean-up required, now the flood was receding.
“So …” Byron took a long pause, as if mustering up the courage to talk. “I figured out the solution to our … ah … potential issue.”
Emory choked on her coffee. She did her best to swallow down the hot drink instead of letting it dribble onto her plate. Beside her, Clayton snorted with laughter at her. His bacon was gone, gobbled up the moment he had sat in the chair. “Eat your eggs,” Emory told him.
Turning back to Byron, her eyes were wide as she raised her eyebrows. “Go on.”
“The bridge is clear. The SES bollard is still there, but they probably have a million other things to do and know I can move it myself. We can go to town.” Byron took a bite of his toast. Under the table, Emory felt his foot move against hers. “To the pharmacy,” he added.
She should have been more excited about it, but all Emory could think about was the implications of the road being clear. They were free. And, okay, the timing was some kind of perfect hug from the universe, but it meant everything was about to change.
“I’ll head down after breakfast,” she said once the reality had sunk in. “I’ll return all the toys and books from the library, and I should probably check the cottage …” She let her thoughts trail off, wanting to see Byron’s reaction at the mention of her old house.
A deep line formed between his brows, and a distinct grunt escaped him. “The cottage will be fine. I’ll send Tucker to check it out first. We’ll go get what we need and be back before Clayton needs a nap.”
We?
Emory shook her head. He didn’t need to come.
This whole thing was her doing and she could think of a hundred things she’d rather do than buy the morning after pill from the pharmacy, where everyone knew her name and her business.
Most likely, they’d all figure out why she needed it and who the other party was, anyway.
Byron being there wasn’t going to change that outcome, but it was going to make things a hell of a lot more awkward.
“You don’t need to come,” she said with a shrug.
Her eggs, despite being cooked to perfection, began to churn in her stomach.
She pushed them around the plate. “Everyone will know, I mean, they probably will anyway, but if we rock up in town together, it will just confirm all the rumours and people will talk. They always talk. I can get whatever you need while I’m there. ”
“Let them talk.” Byron had pushed his chair back to stand over the table. He frowned down at Emory, but there was something unusually soft behind his harsh demeanour. “This was my mistake, too, Emory. Let me help fix it.”
Emory started to protest, but Byron cut her off, rapping his knuckles against the hardwood of the table. Clayton copied him, standing in his chair. Emory tugged him back down and turned to Byron. Her mouth dropped open as she began to protest, but Byron held up a hand.
“Let. Them. Talk.” He drawled out each word, deep golden-brown eyes staring directly into Emory’s soul. “I don’t care if every gossiping woman in town is dragging on and on about it. I want people to know about us, Emory. I want there to be an us worth talking about.”
His tone dropped with his final sentence, along with his body. He sank back into his chair and let his head fall forward. “But if you don’t want that, I’ll stay here.”
“Byron, is there an us worth talking about?”
“If there’s not, I’m really damn hung up on something that I shouldn’t want.” He looked up again, leaning his elbows on the table and supporting his head with his hands. Something like sorrow filled his expression.
“Let’s go to town,” Emory said. She was certain her cheeks would glow red the whole way there, but she was pretty hung up, too. Who cared what other people thought? Sure, she did, but she cared more about Byron than the opinions of nasty gossips anyway.
The pharmacy, thankfully, was all but empty when they arrived, manned only by the old pharmacist who owned the small store and his wife.
They’d been perfectly respectful, hardly blinking twice when Emory asked for what she needed.
Byron held Clayton on his hip, wandering the aisles and pointing out random colours, while Emory filled out the form.
After they paid and returned to the car, she swallowed the little pill dry.
Relief washed over her as she felt it sink down her throat.
One dilemma over. The bigger one remained, though, the actual one, not the almost one.
By the time Byron pulled into the near-deserted parking lot in front of the community library, dread had filled Emory back to the brim.
She still had no idea what she was going to do, but she hoped Mya would be able to talk some sense into her.
She hadn’t been sure the library would be open and had texted Mya before they packed all the borrowed toys and books into the car.
The voice message she had received almost instantly practically begged Emory to come down.
Clayton ran towards Mya as soon as Emory let go of his hand inside the library.
For a long time, Mya had been the only good thing left in Gardner Creek.
She was the closest thing Clayton had to an aunty.
It was always going to be hard leaving her behind when Emory moved to the city, but the thought of it, on top of everything else, was just another weight over Emory’s already hurting shoulders.
With a deep sigh, she swung her tote full of books onto Mya’s little desk and began dropping each one under the returns scanner.
It took Byron two trips to bring in all the toys.
Mya had taken Clayton over to the kids’ corner and was reading him a story, but she watched Byron intently.
Emory could feel her piercing gaze darting between the unlikely couple.
Once everything—right down to the very last purple truck—had been scanned back into the library catalogue, Byron let his hand drop onto the small of Emory’s back.
He brushed his thumb along her spine, leaving a tingling feeling.
Without a word, he moved over to the bean bag beside Mya and dropped into it. Clayton climbed onto his lap.
“Papa read,” he said, his tiny, grabby hands reaching for the book Mya still held.
She gave Byron the book and stood. The whole interaction could have been from a silent movie, but there was so much unsaid in the room that all three adults seemed to understand.
Mya had picked up on it as soon as she realised Byron had come into town with Emory, and she seemed itching to discuss it.
Emory protested her shoves, but eventually gave in and allowed Mya to steer her towards one of the small study nooks in the far corner.
“Did you hear from any of those jobs?” Mya asked as soon as they were seated at opposite sides of the desk.
Emory dropped her head to the table. The laminate coating was cool on her forehead. “No, but it’s still early. They might not even look at applications until after Christmas.”
“Did you decide what you’re going to do if you get one of them?”
“Also no.”
“Because you’re too busy playing happy family?”
Emory shifted her head, lifting up and dropping her chin onto the table so she could glare at her friend. There was a glimmer in Mya’s eyes, a twinkle in her smile that evaporated all of Emory’s resolve. She sat up, pulling at the sleeves of her cardigan.
“I’m not pretending to be happy, Mya. I am the happiest I’ve felt in a very long time. And it scares the shit out of me because I don’t think there is any way this can go that doesn’t end up in some kind of heartbreak.” Pressing her palms into her yes, Emory took a long breath. “What do I do?”
“Do you want comfort or advice right now?”
“Can I have both?”
Mya placed a hand on Emory’s elbow. “Not really, but I’ll try?”
A tear Emory hadn’t noticed forming escaped down her cheek.
“The comfort is that you’re choosing between two really wonderful situations, you just need to look at them separately, right?
You’ve been working on your degree for more than three years, and you’ve been planning on getting a city marketing job for most of that time.
When you get an offer, if you take it, you’ll be achieving that dream. ”
Emory released a shaky sigh.
“And if you decide to stay here, with Byron? It’ll be because you found love. Real love, not the bullshit Jaxon had you believing in. And that’s not something everybody gets to experience.”
Mya sounded like a well-lived old lady, even though she was only a few years older than Emory. Maybe acting as pseudo-therapist to half the town who needed a judgement-free space and found it in the library was rubbing off on her.
“But I want both those things. I want a job that I love in a place that I love, but I also want the man that I love, and I wish I could have it all, but I can’t.
I have to make a choice, and I’ll never know what the right one is.
” Emory’s voice was barely a whisper. She was so cautious of the silent, echoey library, and the last thing she needed was for Byron to overhear.
When she finally told him she loved him, she didn’t want it to be because he overheard her mention it during her debriefing session with Mya.
She also didn’t want him overhearing just how far away she was thinking of moving.
It was hard enough with him thinking she would move out once the cottage was clear, she couldn’t handle the heartbreak she was sure to see behind his eyes if he found out her dreams were set in the city.
“You do love him?”
“Of course I love him, Mya. He is … everything. Gentle and kind and generous and protective and probably the most quietly caring person I’ve ever met.
He cooks me breakfast and does everything he can to support my dreams, even though I’m sure he knows if I follow them, it might break both our hearts.
The past two weeks, he has done nothing but put me first. So, fuck, I feel selfish for even thinking about leaving him.
It eats at me, knowing that I’ve fallen in love with him when my dreams are going to tear us apart. ”
She was sobbing, big, ugly tears pooling onto the table. Every bone in her body ached, and there was nothing she could do to stop the pain.
Laughter echoed through the room. Clayton’s squealing giggles matched with a deep timber from Byron. Their joy only served to hurt her more.
“I have to try, though,” she admitted through sobs.
“I can’t give away my hopes and dreams for another man.
Byron is different, I know that with every fibre of my being, but it wouldn’t be fair to me if I dropped everything for him.
I’d always wonder if I was meant for more than this town.
” As she drew in deep, shaky breaths, Mya moved to sit next to her on the small bench seat.
Emory leaned her head down onto Mya’s shoulder, finding a little comfort in her friend’s embrace.
“I think you won’t really know what you want until you’ve tried all your options.”
Mya was right, trying was the very least Emory needed to do.
If she did manage to find the perfect job in the city, she’d work it out then.
She wiped her cheeks with the rough sleeve of her knitted jumper, and on the inside, she built a tiny, cushioned wall around her heart.
She deserved to give herself a proper chance at her dreams, and if she was going to do that, she needed to make sure her heart stopped falling.
Never mind the fact that it had already fallen all the way into Byron’s arms.