Chapter 26
Byron
The lack of gossiping busybodies in town had surprised Byron.
He couldn’t say he wasn’t thankful for it, though.
The way he felt about Emory hadn’t changed since the morning, and he still wanted the world to know about it, but there was something painful in her eyes as they had left the library.
She’d gone off to chat with her best friend and come back sad.
Byron had felt a sudden urge to kiss all her pain away, but over Emory’s shoulder, he’d seen Mya, arms folded, shake her head.
“Give her time,” she’d said as Byron followed Emory and Clayton out towards the car.
He had no idea what that meant, but he kept both hands on the steering wheel the whole way home. No matter how much he wanted to drop his hand onto Emory’s leg or wrap his fingers around hers.
As far as he could tell, he had two options here, and neither of them sounded overly appealing.
He could back off, give Emory space as she figured out what she wanted.
Or he could sit her down and demand she talk to him.
The last thing he wanted to do was anything that might make her decision harder, but he didn’t know which was the lesser of two evils.
In the driveway, Emory unbuckled Clayton from his car seat and carried the sleeping boy into the house. Byron hoped Clayton wouldn’t protest when Emory tried to settle him into bed.
He stacked the two crates of toys and books and carried them to the house.
Most of the books were for Clayton, so he lined them up on the shelf underneath the coffee table and left the handful of novels on the kitchen bench.
The covers were all bright with floral accents and matching fonts.
It was a series, he figured, but he couldn’t work out which was meant to be first. He flipped the blue one over in his hands, skimming the blurb.
A grumpy farmer and a much younger city girl …
This story was starting to sound a little familiar, and he wondered if that’s why Emory wanted to read it.
It didn’t matter, though; Emory could read whatever she wanted. Byron hadn’t read many romance books, but from the few he had, he was certain the farmer and the city girl would go on to live happily ever after in the end. Maybe it would help convince Emory that they could, too.
Still lost in his thoughts, Byron didn’t hear the crunching of gravel on the driveway or Emory’s rushed footsteps as she raced down the hall. He didn’t notice anything was happening until the front door slammed open and a voice he hadn’t heard in a long while bellowed through the house.
“Dad!”
Emory hushed him, but her pleas to keep the noise down went ignored. Dropping the book on the counter, Byron stormed through the house towards his eldest son.
“Jaxon,” he warned. “You need to lower your voice.”
He moved forward, placing himself between Jaxon and Emory.
She stepped around him until they stood side by side.
Together, they formed something of a blockade, preventing Jaxon from moving into the house.
The door still hung open behind him. He shuffled his feet, head dropping for a second before he puffed out his chest and looked between them.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped, settling his gaze on Emory.
That deep protectiveness stirred in Byron. He curled his fingers into a fist by his sides. He would not punch his son. He would not punch his son.
He wanted to, though. How dare Jaxon turn on Emory with such a judgemental tone as though he wasn’t the one kicking her out of her home?
A deep growl rolled through his chest. Emory’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, sending a warmth through Byron.
The beast didn’t retreat, it was still ready to roar if Jaxon so much as looked at Emory in the wrong way, but her touch had tamed it somehow.
“It’s not your business,” Emory stated coolly.
She’d taken off the green knitted jumper she’d worn to town, revealing another of her tight, lacy tanks. Byron took her in, hating that Jaxon got to see her like this.
Jaxon’s eyes dropped between them to where Emory still held Byron’s hand in her own. Her small fingers wrapped around his fist so tightly her knuckles were turning white. Byron began to suspect the hold was just as much to calm herself as it was for him.
Jaxon’s face turned a deep red. His nostrils flared as he lifted his gaze back to Emory. With a deep crease between his brows, he spoke slowly, through bared teeth.
“I want to see my son.”
Over his hand, Byron felt Emory’s fingers twitch. He felt the way she shuddered beside him and instinctively stepped closer to her. Their shoulders pressed together, and he wanted more than anything to wrap an arm around her, but he had a feeling it would make the whole thing worse.
Emory blew out a puff of air, then sucked in a deep lungful. Composed, she spoke firmly. Byron could hear the tiniest shake in her voice, but she hid it well.
“He is asleep. If you’d like to see him, we can arrange a supervised visitation.” Her resolve crumbled a little, but Byron shifted his hand to wrap his fingers around hers now. “As per the custody agreement you signed,” she added in one quick breath.
“He’s my son.”
Shaking her head, Emory let out a short laugh.
“You all but gave up the right to call him that when you walked out before he was even born. You haven’t ever met him, and now you decide you’re ready to play dad? After you kicked him out of the only home he has ever known? No.”
Her laugh morphed into something that resembled a cackle.
Emory doubled over, dropping her hands to her knees.
The movement pulled Byron forward. He tried to pry his fingers free from her hand, but she’d twisted their fingers together and held them tighter as she caught her breath.
Standing, Emory tucked her hair behind her ears and over one shoulder.
She shifted, moving in front of Byron. She dropped his arm but grabbed it again quickly with her other arm to wrap it around her front.
He hesitated, hovering his hand away from her, but she covered it with her own and held his close.
“Byron has been more like a father to Clayton than you.”
Jaxon snorted. “Apparently, he’s been more than that to you, though.
I should have known the damage you would cause.
First, you played your stupid little tricks and tried to trap me, then you stole my son away when you realised I didn’t love you.
And now that conniving little brain of yours is trying to steal my dad?
Back the fuck down and go get me my son. ”
Emory crumbled in Byron’s arms. He felt every last little piece of her courage melt to the floor at Jaxon’s words. They were wrong, all of them. Byron knew it, but he could see the way they hurt Emory all the same. And he was having none of it.
“Watch your tone.” Blood boiled in Byron’s ears. The only thing stopping him from yelling at the pathetic excuse of a man in front of him was the young boy sleeping down the hall. His hands balled into fists, resting only when Emory rubbed against them with her fingertips.
With a sarcastic smirk, Jaxon darted his eyes to Byron. “Or what?” he snarled. “I’m your son, you’re supposed to be on my side, remember?”
Oh, Byron remembered alright. He remembered the first few months after Jaxon left.
All the unanswered phone calls and unreturned messages.
Byron had tried to reach out, over and over again.
He had tried to make things right between Emory and Clayton and Jaxon, sure, but when those pleas were ignored, his focus had shifted.
All he had wanted to know was that his son was okay.
That Tucker would see his brother again.
Jaxon leaving Emory, leaving town, shouldn’t have meant that Byron and Tucker never got to speak to him.
But apparently, to Jaxon, it did. Byron had spent too many sleepless nights worrying over Jaxon.
He’d ended up calling on an aunt he had in the city.
She’d tracked Jaxon down and assured Byron he was okay.
It had been a small comfort, but did nothing to ease the sting.
“You do not get to lecture me on what it means to be family. Not when you wouldn’t even be able to tell me the colour of your son’s hair.
Emory did not try to ‘trap’ you and it’s insulting to your son for you to even think that way, but I don’t think you give two shits about that little boy.
If you did, you wouldn’t have gone running off, and you certainly wouldn’t have failed to make any effort to get to know him.
You made your fucking bed when you ran out of town to get away from your responsibilities, now it’s time for you to lie in it.
” It hurt, talking to his son like that.
Driving the wedge between them a little further.
In the depths of the crack in his chest, he wondered if they’d ever make it back from this.
But then again, maybe they were never going to make it back anyway.
Byron would always be ready to let Jaxon back into his life, but not like this. Not at Emory’s expense.
Emory shifted in front of him, but Byron held her close. Jaxon opened his mouth to speak. Not wanting to hear a word of what he had to say, Byron cut him off.
“I don’t need to hear your shitty excuses, Jaxon. You need to leave now.”
“I’m your son. If you kick me out, you’re no better than me.”
A laugh rumbled through Byron. It was laced with irony that seemed to fuel Byron’s rage.
“The difference between you and me,” he drawled, stepping out from behind Emory and right into Jaxon’s space.
Byron towered over his son and almost cracked a smile when he saw Jaxon tremble.
“Is that Emory and Clayton belong with me. And I love them both with every single tiny little piece of my heart. But she never belonged with you. I should thank you, really, because every shitty thing you did only served to bring her closer to me. You’re a worthless piece of shit and I am ashamed to call you my son.
But that’s what you are, so there will always be room for you in my life, but only when you’re ready to start making things right. ”
Jaxon took a step back, stumbling over the threshold.
“But … you … my …”
Byron was done. Adrenaline raged through him. His hands were tight fists again, and each breath burned his lungs. Stepping forward, Emory reached past Byron and swung the door shut in Jaxon’s face.
They stood, staring at the door until they heard Jaxon’s old car revving off down the driveway.
Emory stepped in front of Byron and leant her shoulder against the wall. “I should have told you he was in town. I forgot, I’m sorry.”
“You knew?”
Nodding, Emory ran her hand along her arm. “I saw him before the flood. The day I bought the condoms.”
That explained why she had been so off guard that afternoon. Fuck, Byron felt terrible. Not because she hadn’t told him, but because Jaxon hadn’t. As far as Byron was concerned, it was just another big X against his adult son.
“I should have told you,” Emory added. “I meant to tell you, but then you saw the condoms and I was so embarrassed again and I just … I forgot.”
Byron shifted his shoulder and winked. “I distracted you.”
Dropping her head to the side, Emory leant more of her weight on the wall. “He was right, you know, I …”
“No.” Byron stepped forward, turning Emory so her back was on the wall, caging her in with his arms. “You did none of those things, Em. Don’t let him get inside your head.”
“Clayton deserves to know who his father is.”
“He deserves a man who loves him to death and would do anything for him. Not some spineless excuse of a father who only wants to see him as a way of getting under your skin.”
Emory placed her hand on Byron’s chest. His heart calmed under her touch.
“He has that, Byron. He has you.”
“Then he has everyone he needs.”