23. Emerson
Emerson
“That was the most amazing meal that I’ve had in such a long time,” Dad says while stretching his arms over his head. “If you keep cooking like that every day, I’m going to need to start Em’s exercise regimen. Or buy bigger pants.”
I snort into my glass of wine and Henley backhands my shoulder.
“Oh hush, Preston. You could easily pass as Emerson’s older brother.” Henley’s sweet voice coos as she collects our plates.
Is Dad blushing? Yep, he sure is.
Chuckling to myself, I stand up and take the plates out of Henley’s hands. “You did all the cooking, let us clean up. Just sit down and relax.” She crinkles her nose in protest, but I raise a brow and she surrenders the final plate she has a death grip on.
Turns out this woman’s stubbornness knows no bounds.
After I place the dishes in the outside sink, I come back to the table to find her putting all the food in containers and swatting away Dad’s attempts to help like a ninja.
They playfully battle back and forth with the containers, grins spread wide across their faces.
The sight almost brings me to my knees. Taking a deep breath, I knead my chest, trying to soothe the ache growing in my heart. Happiness and sorrow collide together in a painful tug-of-war.
Each day, Henley seeps deeper into every fiber of my being, quietly mending the tattered pieces of my soul.
She’s like a burst of light, igniting all the darkest parts within me, releasing the feelings I’ve let lie dormant for so long, afraid of what they might do to me if I actually allow myself to feel them.
Just in the short time we’ve been home, she’s reminded me that my own grief has blinded me to one very important thing. I’ve left my father alone for two years. Alone in this house, with only our shadows of the past to keep him company. Shame crawls its way in.
Shoving down the pain of Mama’s death seemed like the only option that I had.
But I see now how selfish that idea was.
Not only did it fester like a wound, but it’s flipped my entire world upside down.
It’s also kept me away from the place that’s always grounded me and the man that shaped me to be everything I am today.
As I approach the table, they pause and turn toward me. My expression must show my feelings because I watch their bright smiles dull a smidge. Like they feel guilty for having a moment of happiness in front of me. The guilt leaves a stinging burn.
“Hey,” I address Hen. “I’m going to help you clean all this up, but first I’m going to walk my Dad back to the house. Is that okay?”
Her lips slide slowly between her teeth as she nods.
Dad walks around the table, pulling Henley into a burly embrace. I try not to intrude in their moment, but I can feel myself leaning a little closer to hear what he says to her.
“Everything you made tonight, all of these plans you have for the ranch . . .” He sighs. “Autumn would have loved every inch of it. Just like I do. I’m so proud of you, Hen. Thank you for deciding to help us out while you’re here.”
He rests his chin on top of her head and tears threaten to spill from my own eyes as I see her shoulders silently quiver in his embrace. Somehow, Dad always knows exactly what to say and when you need to hear it the most.
Our arms are full to the brim with containers of food as we walk back to the house.
Dad’s lips tick up when he catches me eyeing the mountain between us.
“Thanks for convincing her to join us on the ranch. It’s been a blessing to have her help us out, but I know it’s probably been a bit difficult for you. ”
My feet fumble in the gravel as I turn to Dad with a raised brow.
“Come now, Emerson. You two have been giving each other so many heated looks that I had to bust out the sunscreen the other day. Didn’t want to get burnt.” His mouth twitches in delight at my gaping jaw.
“You know?” I gulp, unsure of how he’s going to feel about us. Even thinking about all that makes my head swirl, anxiety brewing all over again.
“Pfft,” he scoffs while somehow managing to open the screen door. We barely make it to the kitchen before letting the plastic containers cascade onto the island. Dad opens the refrigerator, gesturing for me to start handing him the boxes.
“Of course I know. It’s always been kind of obvious, my dear son.” He chuckles, continuing to stack the food into the bottom shelves. “That girl’s been swooning over you for years. It took you a little longer to catch on, though.”
He winks as I hand him another container, palming the back of my heated neck with my other hand. “You’re right. There has always been something about Hen that’s drawn me to her. It just took me a while to see her in another light, to see a deeper possibility.”
“Well, why have you never done anything about it?”
“It’s just complicated,” I shrug.
“Define complicated,” he says with an amused expression.
“I’ve always been older, Dad. She had so much ahead of her to experience, and still does.
I’m at the point where I realize I’m tired of meaningless dates and relationships headed nowhere.
I’m finally ready to settle down, but she just got out of a long relationship. I don’t think she’s ready for another.”
“Age is just a number, son. And don’t you think it should be up to her, not you, to decide what she’s ready for?”
I sigh. “Of course. I just don’t want to hold her back. What if she decides she wants to go back to New York and take a job at another restaurant? What happens when Beau calls me and tells me my suspension has been lifted? I’ll have to leave again.”
“You talk about it. Make those decisions together. Plenty of people have to travel for their jobs and still manage to make their relationships work.”
“What about Ryleigh?”
Dad scoffs. “What does Ryleigh have to do with this?”
The confounded look I give him stirs another chuckle deep in his chest.
“He’s my best friend and her brother. Isn’t that . . . weird?” I cringe, rubbing my hand over my face. “He’ll probably hate me if he ever finds out.” Admitting the words out loud makes me still where I stand.
Grabbing the container out of my frozen hands, he shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure that Ryleigh already knows. Like I said, you both haven’t been really doing a good job of hiding it. Hell, I bet Tripp’s probably figured it out some time over the years as well.”
The insides of my stomach flip at the idea of Tripp Cole knowing. But he let his daughter move over here, so that must be a good sign, right?
“Don’t look so terrified.” Dad’s deep chuckle pulls me out of my thoughts as he grabs the last container out of my hands and puts it in the fridge.
Before closing the doors, he pulls out two beers.
“Just make sure you’re ready before you start anything, son.
From what Tripp told me about her last boyfriend, she deserves to be treated right this time around.
You would be the perfect person to do that.
Just promise me you’ll make sure that you are all in before you make the next move. ”
I nod, letting his words sink in. He’s right, like always.
Grabbing my keys, I grab the bottles out of his hands and pop off the tops. We clink our bottle necks together, then he strolls around the island and takes a seat at the stool.
Suddenly, my feet feel like lead and I become aware of how hard I’m gripping the bottle. This is the longest that I’ve been inside the house since the first two weeks. The once cheerful expression on Dad’s face falls. Deep creases of concern replace it.
“We can go to the porch, or—”
“No,” I breathe out. His back visibly straightens. I walk around and pull out the stool next to him. Trying to ignore my tremble, I flatten my palm against the counter to steady myself. This is what I came into the house for, but my body is trying to revolt and force me to keep it in.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I’ve been a coward. Selfish—”
“Em—”
“Please, let me get this off my chest.”
Dad hesitates. His wide eyes scan over me, looking for any hint of a waver. Discovering none, he sinks back into the stool.
“I’m so sorry I let you down. For leaving you when you needed me the most.”
“Son, you were grieving, too. I understand you needed some space these past two years,” he says in the same tranquil tone I’ve always admired.
“These past couple of weeks, I’ve realized that I’ve been grieving far before Mama passed.”
Dad waits patiently as the truth sours on my tongue. Shame makes my body scream in pain. To run. Flee. Abort this endeavor. But I need to get this off my chest before it crushes me.
“Watching her wither away, cancer slowly stripping her radiant light away—” I gasp as pressure builds behind my eyes.
“It felt like we were all drowning and no matter how hard I tried to save her, I c-couldn’t.
Time after time, Dad. God, she fought so courageously, but we couldn’t save her.
I couldn’t save her. She slipped right through my fingers, and there was nothing I could do. ”
He reaches for me, but I shake my head and grip his hand in mine instead. If he hugs me right now, I know I’ll fall apart and never say what I need to.
“I’m ashamed.”
“What for, son?” He squeezes my hand tightly, scooting the stool closer so our knees are touching.
“Even after every remission, fear curled around my spine, holding me hostage. Dread loomed each day. I lived each day in fear that it may be the one where it comes back. Mama needed us to show a strong front, but I couldn’t shake the fear.
Couldn't loosen the foreboding feeling that clung to me like a second skin. It started to become so suffocating, I had to find ways to numb it. The track became more than just a hobby or career—it became my life support. The one place that would quiet my mind.”
The tears break free, making slick trails down my heated cheeks.