6. Emerson #2
It wasn’t until the night all those years ago, when I got a taste of her, that I began to crave all things cinnamon.
Suddenly, I desired the burn. Like a moth to a flame, it became an addiction that I haven’t been able to quit.
When my gaze flicks back toward her, her eyes are lit with curiosity, but she keeps her thoughts to herself.
“What happened back there?” I ask, motioning to the bushes behind me. Her pale cheeks bloom a pinkish hue.
“Motion sickness. It happens when I’m on a long drive. I have some gum and some Dramamine, but with everything going on, I just—”
“Forgot?” I interrupted.
She nodded. “Honestly, I thought I’d be okay, that’s why I didn’t search for them in my bag after you told me to buckle up.
I haven’t really ridden far distances in the car in a long time.
You know, living in New York and all. I’m okay on the subway if I chew gum, but we didn’t really do a whole lot of driving.
Carson and I never really ventured too far out of the city, so a taxi ride here and there never really seemed to be a problem. ”
Carson.
Just the mention of his name makes my jaw clench. Ryleigh has shared enough over the years they’ve been dating to make me already despise the guy. If you ask me, he doesn’t deserve her. Then again, I suppose neither do I.
“Well, you have the gum, now let’s find your Dramamine,” I say gently, reaching forward to grab her bag to rummage through it. The black bag almost explodes when I rip the zipper open. Things are shoved inside so tightly, I have no idea how I’m going to find a tiny bottle of meds.
“No wonder you couldn’t find anything. What did you do, dump an entire drawer into it?” I jest.
The frown on her lips deepens as she tugs the bag out of my grip with enough force to make me wobble where I kneel in the dirt.
“That’s exactly what I did,” she snaps.
Catching me off guard, her palm shoves my chest with brute force. As I fall backward, I watch as the door slams closed in front of me. Clearly, I have struck a nerve.
Dusting myself off, I stand and begin to put the pieces together.
Her suitcase and carry-on weigh a ton, enough to make me decide to sit in the spa this evening to soothe my muscles.
The backpack is just as full. Miscellaneous items lay crumbled and tangled inside of her clothes, as if thrown inside in a hurry.
Almost like these three bags consist of everything that she owns.
Rocking back and forth on my heels, I feel the pit in my stomach grow tighter. Henley isn’t just heading to Oakley Falls for a visit.
My mind buzzes with the possibilities of what could have made her leave as I cautiously open her door. Kneeling beside her once more, she does her best to lean as far away from me as she can, folding her arms across her chest like armor.
“Leave me alone.” Her voice is stern, her scowl deepening. Hazel eyes burn into mine with enough fury to give me third-degree burns.
“Let me help you find the motion sickness meds.”
Murmuring something that sounds a lot like a string of curse words under her breath, she shoves her bag toward me. I force my hand all the way down to the bottom when I hit something hard. Gripping it around my fingers, I yank the obstruction free from the bag.
There was nothing that could have prepared me for what broke free.
“Why am I holding a wooden ladle in my hands?”
“Because, I need it,” she snaps back.
Why the heck does she need a ladle? Now I’m even more curious.
Mirth bubbles to the surface as I picture her going through airport security with that in her bag. The image that enters my mind has me lifting my fist to my lips to contain my laughter.
“Don’t you dare laugh at me, Em,” she growls, swiping the ladle from me.
Then she whacks me with the damn thing while giving me the most menacing look she can.
Unfortunately, right now it’s about as scary as a kitten using its claws.
Incapable of holding it any longer, I burst into a fit of laughter.
“S-sorry,” I wheeze, trying to catch my breath as I wipe my eyes. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to take you seriously while you’re holding that.” Taking a deep breath, I try to rein it in.
“That’s it, I’m calling an Uber. I don’t need this!”
“Hen!” I yell, reaching out to grab her, but she blows past me before I have the chance. Quickly pushing myself up, I rush to follow. When I get to the back of the car, I find her hunched over, tugging on the trunk handle repeatedly.
“Open it!” she screams. “P-please, just open it.”
Desperation coats her voice. She gives up trying to unlock the trunk and leans her forehead against the car. Tremors roll over her body. Though I can’t hear it, I know she’s crying.
“Come here,” I say calmly, moving closer. “Let’s calm down and talk about this.”
Whipping her body upright, she jabs her pointer finger into my chest as she yells. “Don’t tell me to calm down!”
Pacing back and forth, she runs her fingers vigorously through her hair. I reach out for her, but she shoves my arm away and continues pacing.
“Hen, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed.”
“The last twenty-four hours have been a fucking nightmare!”
When her reddened eyes lock with mine, I suck in a sharp breath. I’ve never been able to stomach tears in her eyes.
“I discovered my boyfriend’s been cheating on me, and I bet you’ll never guess who I caught him with!” Her wild eyes cloud with tears, anger rolling off her in waves.
When I don’t answer, she does for me.
“Sadie fucking Sinclair!” she yells, tugging at the ends of her shirt.
“Isn’t that your—”
“Boss?” she interjects. “Why, yes, it is. The idiot cheated on me with my boss! The woman who gave me the scholarship. The one who was going to make me head chef of her restaurant when she opened her second. The same boss that fired me on the spot, when I caught them just after they had . . . after they just–”
A mournful sob cuts off her words. Hunching over, she clutches her chest with both hands. Gulping for breath, she wobbles back over to the car, balancing against it while she struggles to take in air.
Tentatively, I approach her side and place a palm on her upper back.
She flinches but doesn’t push me away as I begin to rub small circles against it.
Every little gasp of air she tries to take splinters my heart.
I can’t take it any longer; I need her in my arms now.
Need to show her she’s safe. Spinning her around, I pull her into my chest and wrap my arms securely around her.
Her body squirms to get away from my embrace, but her need for air becomes more important than getting out of my hold.
Hen’s focus shifts to trying to force her lungs to take in air, as I rub her back in soothing circles.
The raspy gasps that rattle through her make me want to hold her even closer.
As if the closer she is to my chest, next to my breathing, would somehow remind her lungs to do the same.
I thread one hand gently through her hair while the other holds her firmly against my body. Cars zoom by us on the road, but the noise becomes a gentle hum as the world fades away.
In this moment, it’s just me and her. Nothing else matters to me except helping her get to the other side of this.
“That’s it, Hen, deep breaths. Slow and steady.
. .ride out this curve. You’re almost through it.
Deep breaths,” I whisper against the top of her head, using the same mantra that has gotten me through more hard times than I can count in my life.
Her arms snake their way around my waist as her fingers dig into the back of my shirt.
“I lost my h-home,” she sniffles against my chest. “My job, my future, my identity, all in one day. I-I don’t know who I am anymore, Em.”
Just as the words leave her lips, her legs give out underneath her. Holding her trembling body tighter against mine, I try my best to absorb all her pain as she unleashes it in waves. “Breathe, Hen. I’m right here, I’ve got you. I won’t let you go, okay?”
The feel of her head burrowing deeper into my chest causes a familiar ache to emerge. I know exactly how she feels. ‘Who am I?’ is the same question I’ve been trying to answer for the past two years. The very reason I find myself heading back to Oakley Falls.
Little by little, I can feel her tense muscles unravel. Her breathing becomes steadier as the storm finally passes through her. But her fingers are still wound tightly around my shirt, as if she can’t bear the thought of letting go.
“You are Henley Rae Cole. One hell of an amazing chef, and the most compassionate soul that I’ve ever met.” My throat bobs. And the one I let get away.
As if my words were like salt to an open wound, her body tenses all over again. Her tight grip vanishes and she tears herself away from my grip. My body already growing cold without her warmth.
While smoothing the tangled hair from her forehead, her fingers graze over the giant bruise.
A whimper spills from her lips. Her freckled nose wrinkles as her eyelids squeeze tightly shut.
Taking a step forward, my heart deflates as she shuffles further out of my space.
The small window she had lifted open is now firmly shut.
Rightfully so, as I don’t even deserve that small sliver she just allowed.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I kick the gravel beneath my shoes and clear the emotion from my throat. “Let’s get you home.”
A solemn nod is the only response I get. Hen straightens her shoulders and rubs her damp palms against her jeans, wiping away any evidence of the fissure that tore into her normally put-together persona. Giving her room to breathe, I hang back while she slides into the seat.
I climb into the driver’s seat, glancing quickly to make sure she’s buckled, then hit the ignition and pull back onto the road. The rest of the journey home was filled with uncomfortable silence.
Only our invasive thoughts keep us company.