Page 51 of Higher Ground
At least that’s what she’d thought.
She yawned as she shuffled into the kitchen. Her arms spread wide over her head as she stretched out the kink that lying on the couch for an hour or more always gave her. The feasts of previous mornings were, apparently, no longer. Toast replaced hashbrowns, the eggs were scrambled instead of perfectly poached. But the bacon was just as crispy and delicious, so Emory wasn’t about to complain. She’d gotten used to being woken up with a five-star breakfast feast, but she couldn’t expect Byron to cook every morning. Especially now that more of the farm was clearing. Her work in the chicken coop yesterday had barely scratched the surface of the clean-up required, now the flood was receding.
“So …” Byron took a long pause, as if mustering up the courage to talk. “I figured out the solution to our … ah … potential issue.”
Emory choked on her coffee. She did her best to swallow down the hot drink instead of letting it dribble onto her plate. Beside her, Clayton snorted with laughter at her. His bacon was gone, gobbled up the moment he had sat in the chair. “Eat your eggs,” Emory told him.
Turning back to Byron, her eyes were wide as she raised her eyebrows. “Go on.”
“The bridge is clear. The SES bollard is still there, but they probably have a million other things to do and know I can move it myself. We can go to town.” Byron took a bite of his toast.Under the table, Emory felt his foot move against hers. “To the pharmacy,” he added.
She should have been more excited about it, but all Emory could think about was the implications of the road being clear. They were free. And, okay, the timing was some kind of perfect hug from the universe, but it meant everything was about to change.
“I’ll head down after breakfast,” she said once the reality had sunk in. “I’ll return all the toys and books from the library, and I should probably check the cottage …” She let her thoughts trail off, wanting to see Byron’s reaction at the mention of her old house.
A deep line formed between his brows, and a distinct grunt escaped him. “The cottage will be fine. I’ll send Tucker to check it out first. We’ll go get what we need and be back before Clayton needs a nap.”
We?
Emory shook her head. He didn’t need to come. This whole thing was her doing and she could think of a hundred things she’d rather do than buy the morning after pill from the pharmacy, where everyone knew her name and her business. Most likely, they’d all figure out why she needed it and who the other party was, anyway. Byron being there wasn’t going to change that outcome, but it was going to make things a hell of a lot more awkward.
“You don’t need to come,” she said with a shrug. Her eggs, despite being cooked to perfection, began to churn in her stomach. She pushed them around the plate. “Everyone will know, I mean, they probably will anyway, but if we rock up in town together, it will just confirm all the rumours and people will talk. They always talk. I can get whatever you need while I’m there.”
“Let them talk.” Byron had pushed his chair back to stand over the table. He frowned down at Emory, but there was something unusually soft behind his harsh demeanour. “This was my mistake, too, Emory. Let me help fix it.”
Emory started to protest, but Byron cut her off, rapping his knuckles against the hardwood of the table. Clayton copied him, standing in his chair. Emory tugged him back down and turned to Byron. Her mouth dropped open as she began to protest, but Byron held up a hand.
“Let. Them. Talk.” He drawled out each word, deep golden-brown eyes staring directly into Emory’s soul. “I don’t care if every gossiping woman in town is dragging on and on about it. Iwantpeople to know about us, Emory. I want there to be an us worth talking about.”
His tone dropped with his final sentence, along with his body. He sank back into his chair and let his head fall forward. “But if you don’t want that, I’ll stay here.”
“Byron,isthere an us worth talking about?”
“If there’s not, I’m really damn hung up on something that I shouldn’t want.” He looked up again, leaning his elbows on the table and supporting his head with his hands. Something like sorrow filled his expression.
“Let’s go to town,” Emory said. She was certain her cheeks would glow red the whole way there, but she was pretty hung up, too. Who cared what other people thought? Sure, she did, but she cared more about Byron than the opinions of nasty gossips anyway.
The pharmacy, thankfully, was all but empty when they arrived, manned only by the old pharmacist who owned the small store and his wife. They’d been perfectly respectful, hardly blinking twice when Emory asked for what she needed. Byron held Clayton on his hip, wandering the aisles and pointing out random colours, while Emory filled out the form. After they paid and returned to the car, she swallowed the little pill dry.
Relief washed over her as she felt it sink down her throat. One dilemma over. The bigger one remained, though, the actual one, not the almost one. By the time Byron pulled into the near-deserted parking lot in front of the community library, dread had filled Emory back to the brim. She still had no idea what she was going to do, but she hoped Mya would be able to talk some sense into her. She hadn’t been sure the library would be open and had texted Mya before they packed all the borrowed toys and books into the car. The voice message she had received almost instantly practically begged Emory to come down.
Clayton ran towards Mya as soon as Emory let go of his hand inside the library. For a long time, Mya had been the only good thing left in Gardner Creek. She was the closest thing Clayton had to an aunty. It was always going to be hard leaving her behind when Emory moved to the city, but the thought of it, on top of everything else, was just another weight over Emory’s already hurting shoulders.
With a deep sigh, she swung her tote full of books onto Mya’s little desk and began dropping each one under the returns scanner. It took Byron two trips to bring in all the toys. Mya had taken Clayton over to the kids’ corner and was reading hima story, but she watched Byron intently. Emory could feel her piercing gaze darting between the unlikely couple.
Once everything—right down to the very last purple truck—had been scanned back into the library catalogue, Byron let his hand drop onto the small of Emory’s back. He brushed his thumb along her spine, leaving a tingling feeling. Without a word, he moved over to the bean bag beside Mya and dropped into it. Clayton climbed onto his lap.
“Papa read,” he said, his tiny, grabby hands reaching for the book Mya still held.
She gave Byron the book and stood. The whole interaction could have been from a silent movie, but there was so much unsaid in the room that all three adults seemed to understand. Mya had picked up on it as soon as she realised Byron had come into town with Emory, and she seemed itching to discuss it.
Emory protested her shoves, but eventually gave in and allowed Mya to steer her towards one of the small study nooks in the far corner.
“Did you hear from any of those jobs?” Mya asked as soon as they were seated at opposite sides of the desk.
Emory dropped her head to the table. The laminate coating was cool on her forehead. “No, but it’s still early. They might not even look at applications until after Christmas.”
“Did you decide what you’re going to do if you get one of them?”
