Page 61 of Wyatt & Weston
We head over to the cabin Emma stayed in, the place still smells faintly of her.
“Let’s get this over with,” Weston says, his voice rough with emotion.
We start packing her things, each item a painful reminder of what we’ve lost. Her clothes, her toiletries, the little trinkets she collected while here. Everything we touch feels like a stab to the heart.
“Why did you leave, Emma?” I whisper, the emptiness in my chest growing deeper.
Weston places a hand on my shoulder, offering silent support. We work in somber silence; the cabin growing emptier with each passing minute. When we’re done, it feels like we’ve erased a part of our lives, a part of our hearts.
Hadley shows up in her Jeep. “I’ll run this all down to the post office and mail it to her.”
“Thanks, Hads,” I mutter.
She wraps her arms around us. “It’s gonna be okay. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I’d shoot his ass again in a heartbeat, but I’m still sorry as hell.”
“It’s not your fault, Hadley. We’d have done the same thing.”
Anger courses through me as she gets in her vehicle and pulls away. Anger at Greg for his threats, anger at myself for not being able to protect her, and anger at Emma for leaving.
“Well, that’s it. Let’s get back. I’m sure Dad has something we can do,” Weston mumbles.
“Ya think the pain will ever go away?” I ask him.
“I sure the fuck hope so.”
“I think I’m gonna walk back,” I tell him.
“Suit yourself.” He gets in the UTV and takes off, gravel flying behind him as he spins the tires.
I start to walk toward the main house, and every step is filled with thoughts of Emma. Was everything that happened between us just a fling to her? It didn’t seem like it, but now I don’t know what to think. Every moment we shared felt significant and intense, but now, I can’t help but question it all.
She left us with nothing but a note, no calls, no texts. It’s like she vanished into thin air, and it’s tearing me apart. I know she left to protect Hadley from the bullshit charges Greg threatened, but going completely non-contact? That’s cold.
I stop and stare at my phone, her number on the screen. Despite knowing she won’t answer, I can’t resist. I press the call button and wait. The line rings and rings before going to voicemail. I take a deep breath, ready to pour my heart out.
“Please listen before you delete this. Emma, I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now, but I need you to hear me out. We love you. Weston and I, we’re in this for the long haul. We’re willing to work through anything life throws at us. You’re it for us, Emma. Take all the time you need, but know that we’re waiting for you. Unless you call or text us to fuck off, we’re not going anywhere. And honestly, even if you did, we probably wouldn’t. We’re that stubborn.”
I end the call and let out a shaky breath, feeling a sliver of hope that maybe, just maybe, she’ll listen. But as the hours pass, that hope fades. I head out to the barn, needing to do something with my hands, something to keep my mind off her.
I head to the pig barn, my boots crunching on the gravel driveway. As I step inside, the sharp, pungent smell of ammonia hits me immediately. The pens are a mess, thick with layers of straw and manure that have built up over time.
Taking a deep breath and rolling up my sleeves, I grab a pitchfork and begin working. The tines of the fork pierce through the mess, then I lift and toss the shit into a waiting wheelbarrow. My movements are angry, my face masked in annoyance.
“You look like you’re about to tear the whole place apart,” Marshall murmurs.
I don’t look up, my eyes fixed on the mess. “Just trying to get rid of some excess energy.”
“You look like hell.”
“Thanks, Marshall,” I mutter. “Just what I needed to hear.”
I throw the pitchfork across the pen and grab the handles of the wheelbarrow, needing to push it out to the shit pile.
Marshall blocks my path, crossing his arms. “You know, sometimes calling and texting ain’t enough.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Sometimes, you gotta do more. Show her you mean it. Words are easy, actions are harder. Maybe she needs to see you mean what you said in all those messages and calls.”
