Chapter Sixteen
Bryce
If one of his buddies had told him a few weeks earlier that he would find himself sitting on a swing with the lovely Emma
Lucas—and feeling more peace than he had all day—Bryce would have laughed out loud at the absurdity.
What was it about her that soothed him so much?
He wasn’t entirely sure. She didn’t exactly have a restful personality. Emma could be caustic, sharp edged. He knew that was
a defense mechanism, though. He couldn’t imagine all that had happened in the past ten years to give her those pointy prickles.
He was content to let the soft breeze eddy around them while the noise and hubbub of the party played in the background.
She was the first to break the silence. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” she said after a moment. “I thought you
would be busy with your mom.”
He sighed, feeling that heavy weight descend on his shoulders again. “I was there most of the day. She’s supposed to move
back to her facility tomorrow, where they’re going to work on rehabbing her hip, so we had some details to work through. They
have to keep a closer eye on her and plan to install some bed rails and a bed alarm so they know if she tries to get up in
the night. She will hate it and won’t understand why she can’t get up when she wants.”
“That must be so tough. I can’t even imagine.”
“I hope you never have to go through it,” he said quietly.
He didn’t want to talk about his mother tonight or care centers or broken hips.
Eager to change the subject, he gestured around to the festive background.
The crowd had begun to break up but there were still plenty of people gathered under the café lights on the patio or clustered in cozy conversation areas.
“Your mom always throws a good party.”
“Are you surprised? My mom always does everything well.” At her glum tone of voice, he sent her a searching look.
“I don’t think Rosie would agree with you there. I suspect she spends plenty of time feeling inadequate and overwhelmed.”
“She hides it well. Mom seems like the epitome of a woman who has fought hard for her success and won’t let anything or anyone
take it from her.”
“I would agree with that,” he said. “She’s also a woman who loves her family fiercely and worries for them just as fiercely.”
She sighed. “I know. And I get it. You and my mom are close.”
He gave her another careful look. “Your mom has given me some amazing opportunities and I will never be anything but grateful
that she took a chance on a dumb punk like I was.”
“You’re not dumb, Bryce.”
“Even though I was held back a year and you skipped a grade ahead?”
“I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
“It was the truth.”
“Not completely. I was a fall baby and always a little bit ahead of the rest of the kids in my grade. And you . . .”
Her voice trailed off.
“And I had to take remedial English and math classes because I struggled in school. For what it’s worth, I was diagnosed with
dyslexia in middle school.”
Which probably would have happened much earlier if his mom had ever been sober enough at parent-teacher conferences to push the matter.
“Do you struggle at jobsites? There’s plenty of math and English required.”
“No. You never grow out of dyslexia but I did figure out some coping mechanisms that help a lot.”
“Oh good.”
He was about to add more when her daughter rushed over, her brow furrowed and her mouth pursed. She had tears on her cheeks
but she seemed more mad than angry.
“I fell on the swing and hurt my knee and a boy named Charlie laughed at me.”
Emma gathered her daughter in her arms and he watched all of her prickliness disappear in an instant, replaced by soft concern.
“Well, how rude of him. Maybe he didn’t understand that you were really hurt.”
“Maybe.” Olive looked between the two of them. “Can I sit by you on this swing?”
Emma glanced over at Bryce with a questioning look. He willingly slid over and Olive hopped up between the two of them, warm
and sweet and clearly tired.
“Hi. You’re my friend Bryce.”
He smiled, already adoring this open, friendly child. “And you’re my friend Olive. It’s good to see you again.”
“Guess what? My friend has a new puppy. I’m going to see it when I go play there on Monday.”
“A new puppy,” he said. “How exciting!”
She grinned happily. “And she has a new Barbie doll, too, and she’s going to have a new baby sister, but that’s not as fun
as a new puppy.”
“Absolutely not,” Bryce agreed solemnly.
“Guess what?” she asked again.
“Um, another friend has a new kitty?”
She giggled. “No, silly. I’m going to have a birthday. I’m going to be four.” She held up her fingers.
“Four! You are growing up.”
“I know. I go to kindergarten in one more year.”
She leaned against his shoulder and Bryce felt as if a warm sunbeam had suddenly broken through clouds he didn’t even know
were there.
The warmth of her tiny body, the trust in her gesture and the innocence in her voice all combined to create a surge of protective
affection he’d never experienced before. Somehow Olive had effortlessly slipped past all his defenses, nestling not only against
his side but deep within his heart.
“Guess what?” she asked for a third time. It was apparently her favorite phrase. “I have a new bedroom, and I have a pink
bed, and my grandma says she’s going to find a dollhouse that my mommy had in the attic and have somebody fix it up.”
“Is that right?”
She nodded, her head moving against his arm, then the little rascal sent him a sidelong look. “Can you fix it for me?”
“Olive,” Emma admonished, sounding mortified. “You don’t just ask people to do things for you.”
“Grandma said she wanted to ask him. So I did it myself.”
“Bryce works for Grandma, honey. He doesn’t work for you.”
“Does he work for you, Mommy?”
Emma shifted on the swing and Bryce could see the question made her uncomfortable. “He doesn’t really work for me, but he
is helping me fix up the bookshop to make it a little bit nicer and not so crowded.”
“We’re going to put in a place that sells cookies and muffins and cinnamon rolls. Things like that.”
“Yum. Can I have a cookie?”
He laughed. “We can probably arrange that.”
“Okay.”
Rosie’s little dog, Dottie, wandered past and Olive jumped up to follow the dog, leaving the two of them alone again on the
swing.
“She is pretty adorable,” Bryce said as they both watched Olive race back to her friends.
“She is. She’s also extremely busy. Some days trying to keep up with her is more exhausting than running a marathon while
juggling flaming torches.”
He was quiet, not sure how to ask the question he had wondered about since she told him about going through the pregnancy
alone.
“Why didn’t you come home when you were pregnant with Olive? You had to know Rosie would welcome you back with open arms.”
She looked toward the terrace, where Rosie was chatting with a couple he didn’t know.
“I wanted to,” she said, her voice low. “I started to text her so many times, begging to come home. I always deleted it and
didn’t send.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think I was ready. I was still dealing with so many emotions around my dad’s death.” She looked out at the ocean,
barely visible in the twilight. “Besides, I knew my mom didn’t want me here either.”
He stared at her. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Of course, your mom wanted you.”
Her laugh sounded ragged. “You don’t know how things were that last year before I left town. We fought constantly. It was
ugly. If not for Sylvia trying to keep the peace, it might have been even worse.”
“What did you fight about?”
“What didn’t we fight about? My hair, my clothes, my friends, the tattoo I went to Lincoln City to get. She hated everything I did. I
was pretty sure before I left that she hated me. And, yes. I know I sound like a whiny teenager. Mom didn’t really hate me. I was running wild and she hated that she couldn’t
control me. And, of course, every time she looked at me, she was reminded that I caused the death of my father.”
Bryce stared at her in shock. Despite the low light, he could tell she looked as if she regretted saying the words.
“That’s not true, Emma. You don’t really believe that, do you?”
She fidgeted with a loose thread on her jeans but didn’t directly answer his question.
“Things were so tough that last year. I’m sure she was relieved after I left.”
“And I’m just as certain she wasn’t. I don’t know all that transpired between you and your mom back then. I can tell you I
know for absolute fact that Rosie missed you every single day you were gone.”
She made a small sound of disbelief and he couldn’t resist reaching out and covering her hand with his. “Your mother loves
you, Em, whatever happened in the past. That’s the most important thing. She loves you and she wants to make things right
between the two of you, whatever it takes.”
Her fingers were small and cool in his. She curled them into a fist under his hand but she made no effort to pull away. Instead,
she smiled unexpectedly, a sudden ray of sunshine breaking through storm clouds. It started small, a slight upturn of her
lips, but quickly blossomed into something radiant and transformative, as if touched by starlight.
“You are full of advice tonight, aren’t you?”
“Full of something,” he muttered.
He wanted to kiss her with a fierce need that made his chest ache.
What would she do if he tried it?
Probably smack him, if he knew his Emma.
Not his, Bryce reminded himself. She was her own strong, courageous, fascinating self. If he’d had a thing for her since elementary
school, that was his problem.