Chapter 33
Emory
“This whole thing feels oddly familiar,” Mya huffed as she dragged the full suitcases up the hallway.
As soon as Byron had left the farmhouse to go … wherever it was he needed to run off to, Emory had called on her best friend to help her pack. Again.
It was crazy to think that it was only a few weeks ago they’d been doing exactly what they were doing now, loading Emory’s car with everything she and Clayton had. So much had changed in those few weeks, and Emory knew she’d hold this month close to her heart for the rest of her life.
Moving in with Byron had been her only choice, and in a way, Emory was glad she’d been forced to play this hand.
She didn’t regret the time they shared together; she only wished the circumstances were different.
She wished she’d fallen in love with the town and the farm long before she fell in love with Byron.
That she wanted to stay instead of feeling this overwhelming need to leave.
She wished she’d done a better job at protecting her heart. Because fuck, it hurt now. The odd thing was that her soul didn’t. Her soul was singing with possibility.
Mya dumped the suitcases by the door and joined Emory on the floor of the living room.
Clayton scribbled on the paper-covered coffee table beside them.
A small wave of guilt scattered along Emory’s skin.
She had to do this for herself. But she’d never stopped to consider if it was fair for Clayton.
The poor kid had been moved around more in the past month than he had in his whole life, and when they moved to the city, it would be an even bigger change for him.
No more fun days with his Papa; he’d be off to daycare while Emory worked for the future they both deserved. It was okay, daycare would be good for him, and Emory didn’t feel sad or bad about it in the slightest. But it was going to be a massive change that he wouldn’t fully understand.
It felt like everywhere she looked, Emory was reminded of all the things that were going to make moving to the city hard.
That was why she needed to get out of this house.
Not just because every moment she spent with Byron was a step further down a cliff that felt too much like a love she couldn’t walk away from.
Not just because everything in this house reminded her of him and them and just how perfect the past few weeks had been.
But because it was a very blinding reminder of how different life in the city would be for Clayton as well as herself.
It was going to be hard leaving Mya’s, too. There was no doubt in Emory’s mind that no matter where she was, it was never going to be easy. At least at Mya’s house, she wouldn’t feel hopelessly in love as well.
Fuck.
She was, wasn’t she? Hopelessly and endlessly and utterly in love with Byron. And she was about to leave. Maybe Mya had been right all along. Maybe coming here in the first place was not such a good idea.
It was done now, though, and the whole thing had cost Emory her heart. All she could do was hope it would start to heal in the city.
“You okay?” Mya asked. She’d settled on the floor next to Emory and pushed the plastic tub away from their laps.
Emory didn’t try to fight her for it. She’d stopped filling it a while ago.
The truth was, she had no idea how many of the toys and books came with them from the cottage and how many were here all along.
“No,” she admitted. The truth was always easier with Mya.
“I thought I had everything figured out. I was so close to finishing my course, and I had all these grand plans to move to the city and finally do what was right for me. Don’t get me wrong, I still want that.
I still need that. But every time I see Byron, I wonder a little more what the cost of my dreams will be. ”
“I don’t want to stay,” she continued after swallowing back her sobs.
“I hate this town and everyone in it. I hate how everything is a reminder of the life I thought I would have with Jaxon. And that’s okay, really, I’m not sad about him leaving anymore.
I don’t miss him, but it really sucks seeing that reminder all the time.
I hate the way everyone in town still somehow blames me for his leaving, as though he’s not the one who showered me with promises then skipped town on his kid and never looked back.
I hate that being here isn’t me. I don’t belong here, and I never will.
Byron can’t change that, no matter how much I love him. I’ll always hate it here.”
She sank to the floor, lying back until she was staring up at the ceiling.
Clayton, seeing his mother flat on the ground, toddled over to climb on top of her.
He nestled his head into her neck and settled his weight on her front.
His tiny body pressed against her lungs.
It forced her to breathe in slower, more focused inhales, sending a tiny sliver of calm through her.
Mya remained silent, as though she knew her best friend had a lot to get out. Wrapping her arms around Clayton, Emory continued.
“I hate it here, but I love Byron. And every time he is close, I forget a little how far from home this town is for me. I can’t get swept up in that.
I need to not be around him, even if it’s only for a little while.
So that I can think straight. So that I can remember me and my dreams and my future. ”
Lying beside Emory, Mya twisted to her side. She propped an arm under her head and placed her free hand over Emory’s on Clayton’s back. “Can I tell you something?”
Emory hummed. Her eyes were filled with tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks if she turned her head.
“Byron and Tucker talk a lot. Like, a lot. More than I thought a dad and his adult son would talk. But I think because Byron is technically kind of young to have fully grown kids, it’s different.
I think Byron filled a bit of the void that Jaxon left behind in Tucker’s life, and they’ve had a different kind of relationship since then. ”
“Why are you telling me this?” Giving up on holding back her tears, Emory turned her head towards Mya. Her hair followed her, falling over her face and clumping together on her wet cheeks.
Mya stretched forward to tuck the stray pieces behind Emory’s ear.
“Because I overhear a lot of conversations,” she said, so hushed she might as well have been whispering. “And what I don’t overhear, I weasel out of Tucker. He tells me everything.”
“Mya,” Emory warned. She furrowed her brow and huffed. Mya needed to get to the point. There was only so much wallowing Emory would allow herself, and she was nearly done with her quota.
“Honestly, you’d think they were brothers, not father and son.
It’s kind of weird, really.” Mya pushed onto her elbow and tucked her hand into Clayton’s armpit.
He squirmed under her tickling fingers. “Hey, Clayton, buddy,” she chimed.
“Reckon you could go get a bottle of water from the fridge. Actually, two, one for me and one for Mummy?”
He leapt from Emory’s chest, crawling free and hustling to the kitchen. The little kid loved nothing more than being helpful, and this was about as helpful as it could get.
“I don’t know if he can even open the fridge, Mya.”
“Ah, well, it got him out of the room.” Sitting up, Mya pulled Emory off the rug.
God, Emory was braced for whatever inappropriate comment Mya was about to make.
She didn’t need to hear it, any more than she needed to be told that Byron told Tucker everything.
Surely he didn’t tell his adult son everything?
Like, maybe he let Tucker in on their little fling, that wasn’t a secret.
But not all the details? She hoped not. She chewed at the inside of her cheek, her eyes darting around, looking anywhere but at her best friend.
Mya must have seen the terror lining Emory’s face because she dropped her hands onto Emory’s lap.
“Oh gosh, Em. How dirty did the two of you get?” Mya cackled with laughter but quickly quietened her laugh when Emory scowled in response.
“Sorry, not important. I clearly don’t know those details, and I don’t really want to know either.
But I do know that Byron has been increasingly torn over the past few weeks.
He loves you. Tucker kept trying to tell him about how you wanted to leave town, but he either didn’t listen or had already fallen too far. ”
It wasn’t a surprise, hearing that Byron loved her. Because, sure, he hadn’t said those exact words to Emory, but the intent was always clear with every little action he took. But if he was telling other people, that had to mean something. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because one, I thought he deserved the chance to tell you himself. If he didn’t, he’s a bigger dummy than I thought he was.
And two, I didn’t want how Byron feels to change how you felt.
I wanted you to give the interview absolutely everything you had.
You have a hard choice to make, and even though it’s hard, you deserve the chance to make it.
If you knew how Byron felt you wouldn’t have tried so hard, just so that you could turn around and say, ‘Oh well, I didn’t get it’ and stay here with Byron. ”
Of course, Mya would play the hand that left Emory with as much choice as possible. She was right, if Emory had known, she would have deliberately flunked the interview and used it as an excuse to stop trying. She would have fallen onto the easy path.
“You always would have wondered what if, and that didn’t seem fair.”
Emory fell forward, dropping her head onto Mya’s shoulder. Her sobs were soft, but she still left a wet patch on her friend’s oversized shirt. Mya was right, Emory always would have wondered what if. Now, she would always wonder what if she had never gotten the job.
With impeccable timing, Clayton scurried back around the couch.
“Mummy! My! Water!” he cheered.
Emory had to force herself off Mya. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her sleeve before pasting on something that resembled a smile and turned to the three-year-old.
A small, brown glass bottle hung in each hand. He clapped them together and Emory cringed at the loud clink. Thankfully, they didn’t break.
“Woah, you got the fridge open, hey?” Mya said. She hid her wicked grin behind her hand.
Emory gave her a look that was part annoyance, part amusement. Her eyes rolled a little, and her mouth forcibly closed, but dimples appeared in her cheeks to give away her hidden laughter. She steadied herself with a slow exhale and turned back to Clayton.
“Thank you so much, buddy!”
He placed the beers in her lap, clapped to himself, then grabbed the remote from the coffee table.
Emory watched in surprise as he turned the TV on.
It loaded directly onto the kid’s channel that had been playing last. Clayton bounced on the spot, a smug little grin covering his face.
Emory dropped her mouth open. Byron had taught him that, for sure. She certainly hadn’t.
It didn’t matter, though. Sure, she’d have to keep the remote hidden so Clayton couldn’t keep the TV on twenty-four seven, but him knowing how to turn it on wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. A little hint of independence was good, and the TV had really been their saviour during the flood.
Emory pulled herself up onto the couch and twisted one bottle open.
She passed the beer to Mya and opened her own.
Water schmwater. She needed something stronger to help process the hundred and fifty emotions that had been flooding her faster than the actual flood had covered the farm.
It was a lot, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever fully recover.
Not here at least.
She took a long sip of her beer. The bitterness left a tang on her tongue. She clicked it away, standing up.
“Let’s take all this to the car,” she said, gesturing to the tub of toys.
“You still want to leave?”
“I have to. For the same reason you couldn’t tell me about Byron until after the interview. If I stay, I’ll sabotage myself. I need to think straight, and I can’t do that here.”
Mya seemed to understand, or at least accept, Emory’s reasoning. She placed the lid onto the large plastic tub, hauled it into her arms, and stood up. The beer bottle hung loose between two fingers, but Emory reached out to grab it before it fell.
She followed Mya down the short hall and placed the bottles on the entry table.
“Hey, Mya, why did you tell me about Byron?” she asked as she grabbed the two suitcases.
Looking over her shoulder, one foot across the threshold, Mya shifted the weight of the large tub against her hip. “Because I think you might need to brace yourself for what comes next.”