Page 7 of That One Night
His muscles ached. His hands were raw. But for the first time in months, his head felt a little clearer.
He wasn’t here to stir up trouble.
He just wanted a little peace.
And a chance to start over.
Chapter
Three
“All I’m saying isthat you look so pretty in a skirt,” Emery’s mom said, folding another dish towel and smoothing it out like it had personally offended her. “Cutoffs just look… messy.”
Emery took a breath. She’d forgotten how traditional her mother could be. Apparently, cut-off denim shorts and a black tank top were a step too far for a proper young woman in Hartson’s Creek.
“I mean, you used to love wearing dresses,” her mom added, without looking up.
“I also used to think crimping my hair was a good idea.” Emery kept her voice light, trying to remember that her mom was grieving. This wasn’t really about shorts. Or even appearances. This was about control. Something her mother hadn’t had for a while now.
The house still felt heavy without her dad. The chair he always sat in was empty. The space he used to fill so loudly and easily felt like a vacuum. Her mom had spent her whole life being a wife, a partner, a helpmate. And now she was a widow with a farm she didn’t know how to run.
Thank god Jed Walker, her dad’s longtime farm manager, had stayed on past retirement to help keep things afloat until the property could be sold.
Emery’s gaze flicked to the engagement ring still glittering on her finger like it had every right to be there.
God, what a mess her life was.
“It’s ninety degrees outside,” she told her mom. “It’s too hot for anything but shorts.”
Her mom sighed. “Maybe the air conditioning needs upgrading. It’s been sluggish since April.”
And there it was. The other elephant in the room.
There was no money for upgrades.
“You’re selling the place,” Emery reminded her gently. “There’s no point getting a new system installed now.”
“But it’ll sell faster if everything’s new,” her mom said. “Maybe you could ask Trenton what he thinks?”
That name again. Her jaw tensed.
Of course her mom would bring him up. He was the golden boy. The wealthy one. The safe bet. And of course her mom would default to him when it came to anything practical.
“We’ve got it under control,” Emery said, forcing a smile. “Let’s just get everything organized so we can put it on the market.”
She was sitting at the polished dining table, surrounded by stacks of paperwork her father had left behind. Or at least some of it. A lot was missing. And none of it was in order. But she had to make sense of it if she wanted the sale to go through without hiccups.
Her mom paused her endless glass-polishing, brow furrowing as she watched Emery.
“Is everything okay with you and Trenton?” she asked. “You haven’t said much about him since you’ve been back.”
Emery fought the instinct to flinch. She’d been home for less than twenty-four hours. But of course, in this house, silence meant something was wrong.
“Everything’s fine,” she lied smoothly. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I just don’t know if it’s smart for you to be here without him. Don’t you miss him? He can’t be thrilled you’re spending the whole summer away.”
Emery stood and reached for her mother’s hands, threading their fingers together. “He’s okay with it,” she said softly. “He’s been swamped at work. You know how he is. And we both agreed me coming home was the right thing.”
