15. Emerson
Emerson
I’m a fucking mess.
Squeezing Henley’s hand is the only thing right now that is keeping me present. Grounded. She’s holding me from falling back into the dark depths of my mind.
I’ve never thought of myself as an overly anxious person, but these past few years have transformed me into someone I don’t know. It’s become harder to control my actions, my breaths, and every little decision or conversation I have has me overanalyzing and stressing for hours after.
Last night, I drove up the road to the next town to grab a few things that might make Hen feel more at home in the cabin.
Little things like new bedding, cinnamon candles, some bubble bath I thought she might like, and fluffier pillows.
I didn’t think anything of it until right now as we begin to pull up to the cabin. Now I’m questioning my decision.
Is she going to freak out? Did I do too much?
This new worry, on top of everything else, is about to send me over the edge. Maybe I made a mistake inviting her to stay on the ranch.
“Em?” Henley’s voice seeps through my fog. “We’re here.”
Blinking my eyes to refocus, the little village of cabins comes into clear view. I must have driven here on autopilot because I don’t remember making my way down the road. Releasing the tight grip, I run my palm over my face. “Right. Sorry about that.”
She silently assesses me. The look she’s giving is a cross between concern and apprehension, but she keeps her mouth closed and just nods. As she unlocks the door and leaps out of the truck, I’m left wondering what is going on inside her head.
Once I’m out of the truck, I grab all the luggage. “That one is yours over there.”
She’s frozen on the gravel path, taking in the view of what my Dad and I had started to build before Mama passed. My voice makes her jump, then she follows my line of sight to the cabin at the end.
“Mine’s right next door.” I grab the back of my neck and shuffle the gravel between my feet. “If you ever need anything, you can just knock.”
Her bright gaze finds mine, and her face brightens with excitement. Just one look and the pressure in my chest unlocks. “Don’t laugh, but this is kind of an exciting moment for me. Twenty-seven years old and I’ve never lived on my own before.”
The admission halts me where I stand. “Seriously? What about culinary school?”
She shrugs, picking up her carry-on in her arms while I follow behind with her suitcase. “I couldn’t afford to live by myself in New York. I’ve always had a roommate. It’ll be nice to have some alone time for once. My last roommate was never good about giving me space for a little ‘me’ time.”
She releases a breathy laugh at her obvious jest toward Carson. It only makes me silently curse her ex even more. As we approach the cabin, I reach into my back pocket and pull out my keys. “Here, your first key to your own space.”
Sliding the key off the ring, I place it into her outstretched palm.
Her smooth skin against mine sends a tingling sensation down my spine.
I let it linger for a few seconds longer than it should before I pull it away.
Henley stares thoughtfully down at the key in her hand.
And I suddenly feel like an intruder. Like I’m peering in on a monumental moment in her life, the first time she’s had a space that’s all her own.
She slowly exhales, sliding the key in the door and pushing it wide.
Her reaction is nothing like I’d prepared for.
I assumed that she would be a bit underwhelmed by the size of the space, but there is no trace of disappointment in her eyes.
Instead, they’re lit with excitement and awe.
Almost like she’s just walked through the elevator into a million-dollar penthouse.
“This is perfect!”
Dragging in her monster suitcase, I heave it on the small couch next to the bed. As she paces around the room taking everything in, I look for something to distract me. “Can I help you unpack?”
“Um, sure. I’d appreciate that,” she says shyly.
As I begin to unzip her suitcase, she investigates every nook and cranny. She makes her way into the kitchen, opening all the cabinets and swings the fridge door wide. “Hey, there’s food in here!”
The surprise in her sweet voice makes me chuckle. “Well, I believe it was you that said I can’t be eating food from the vending machine, so I made sure to buy some groceries.”
Her eyebrows rise as she walks casually back toward me. “Highly presumptuous to buy me food and expect me to cook it for you.”
“I didn’t mean you had to cook for me, I just—I know how much a good meal means to you, and—”
Before I could finish, she closes the gap between us and pinches my mouth shut.
“Relax, Em. I know you’re getting up there in age, but you do remember what a joke is, right?
” She snorts. “I’d be happy to cook with you anytime.
” My eyes widen, but she doesn’t release my lips.
Her fingers tug lightly, pulling my head down to hover just inches away from hers.
“And yes, I said with you, not for you. If I’m cooking, you’re helping.”
Rocking back on her heels, she releases me with a smirk. Speechless, my gaze follows her path to the bed, her shoulders silently shaking with mirth. Seeing this old version of Henley peeking back through makes my heart swell.
I would take any version of Henley any day. But this version, full of sass and smiling brightly, is my favorite.
To distract myself, I turn my focus to unpacking her suitcase. “Well, how about I start unpacking?”
She turns and nods as I begin to sort her clothes and other random items, like books and pictures frames, that had been stuffed inside.
After a few minutes, I find her still paused at the bed.
She’s wearing an expression I can’t figure out as she slowly smooths over the dark green bed set I’d picked out for her.
When I saw it in the store, it reminded me of her and that familiar shade of Converse that always adorned her feet.
Grabbing a small black bag out of the luggage, I glance up to see her lashes flutter toward mine, revealing glossy eyes.
Her lips tilt upward and her eyes twinkle with a silent appreciation until they roll down to the bag that I’m holding.
“Oh, I’ll take that!” she shouts, flying across the gap between us. Except, on her flight, the tip of her shoe catches the edge of the carpet and she collides into me.
We careen to the floor, and she lands on top of me with a heavy thud. The contents of the bag scatter around us, except one that smacks me directly in the head.
“Shit!” I curse, rubbing my forehead with one hand while examining the offending piece of plastic in the other.
Henley’s eyes widen in terror on top of me.
That’s when I realize what I’m holding in my hand.
My girl has a little pocket rocket. A smooth, bright pink one.
My chest rumbles with laughter, bouncing Hen’s mortified body up and down.
Like a cheetah, she snatches it out of my hand with lightning speed, scrambling off me in the process.
I’m still laughing as I leisurely roll myself back up. Hen paces around me, picking up all the scattered items and darting into the bathroom to shove them into a drawer. Quietly, I follow behind, leaning against the doorway to watch the show.
Her face is fifty shades of crimson as I press my fist against my mouth, holding in my amusement. There’s something adorable about her when she’s all flustered like this. But right now, it’s doing something more.
I swallow deeply, unable to peel my eyes away from her.
The short denim shorts she’s wearing have so many rips and holes in them, giving me a glimpse of what’s beneath.
Teasing me with hints of her olive skin.
Her oversized band T-shirt has shifted from the fall, exposing her shoulder and the elegant slope of her neck.
My gaze wanders even further up to her messy bun that flops around with each of her rapid movements, and suddenly I’m imagining what it would feel like to have my hand wrapped around the hair within it.
I groan inwardly. This woman is going to be my undoing.
“That was—It’s been a long time, so I—” she rambles.
“You deserve to feel good.”
Her mouth slams shut and she reaches out to steady herself on the counter.
That’s my cue to get the hell out of here before I lose all self-control. “I’m going to head out, text me if you need anything.”
Pushing off the wall, I head toward the front door as quickly as my legs can carry me before I change my mind. Her voice halts me in my tracks just as I reach the front door.
“After my shift at the bakery, I’m going out with Harper and our friend from college, Melody. She’s a bartender at the Rusty Spur.”
I turn around to find her rocking on her feet in the bathroom doorway. Hen twirls the end of her hair around her fingers, something she only does when she’s nervous. “You . . . uh, could come and join us if you want? I mean, only if you don’t want to be alone.”
She glances through her lashes, and I know right then and there I can’t turn her down. Even if I really should. “Sure, I’ll meet you there. Just text me when you get there.”
A smile blossoms on her lips. I finally leave, pulling out my keys.
I need a drive.