Page 66 of Higher Ground
“Byron and Tucker talk a lot. Like, a lot. More than I thought a dad and his adult son would talk. But I think because Byron is technically kind of young to have fully grown kids, it’s different. I think Byron filled a bit of the void that Jaxon left behind in Tucker’s life, and they’ve had a different kind of relationship since then.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Giving up on holding back her tears, Emory turned her head towards Mya. Her hair followed her, falling over her face and clumping together on her wet cheeks.
Mya stretched forward to tuck the stray pieces behind Emory’s ear.
“Because I overhear a lot of conversations,” she said, so hushed she might as well have been whispering. “And what I don’t overhear, I weasel out of Tucker. He tells me everything.”
“Mya,” Emory warned. She furrowed her brow and huffed. Mya needed to get to the point. There was only so muchwallowing Emory would allow herself, and she was nearly done with her quota.
“Honestly, you’d think they were brothers, not father and son. It’s kind of weird, really.” Mya pushed onto her elbow and tucked her hand into Clayton’s armpit. He squirmed under her tickling fingers. “Hey, Clayton, buddy,” she chimed. “Reckon you could go get a bottle of water from the fridge. Actually, two, one for me and one for Mummy?”
He leapt from Emory’s chest, crawling free and hustling to the kitchen. The little kid loved nothing more than being helpful, and this was about as helpful as it could get.
“I don’t know if he can even open the fridge, Mya.”
“Ah, well, it got him out of the room.” Sitting up, Mya pulled Emory off the rug.
God, Emory was braced for whatever inappropriate comment Mya was about to make. She didn’t need to hear it, any more than she needed to be told that Byron told Tucker everything. Surely he didn’t tell his adult soneverything? Like, maybe he let Tucker in on their little fling, that wasn’t a secret. But not all the details? She hoped not. She chewed at the inside of her cheek, her eyes darting around, looking anywhere but at her best friend. Mya must have seen the terror lining Emory’s face because she dropped her hands onto Emory’s lap.
“Oh gosh, Em. How dirty did the two of you get?” Mya cackled with laughter but quickly quietened her laugh when Emory scowled in response. “Sorry, not important. I clearly don’t know those details, and I don’t really want to know either. But Idoknow that Byron has been increasingly torn over the past few weeks. He loves you. Tucker kept trying to tell him about how you wanted to leave town, but he either didn’t listen or had already fallen too far.”
It wasn’t a surprise, hearing that Byron loved her. Because, sure, he hadn’t said those exact words to Emory, but the intentwas always clear with every little action he took. But if he was telling other people, that had to mean something. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“Because one, I thought he deserved the chance to tell you himself. If he didn’t, he’s a bigger dummy than I thought he was. And two, I didn’t want how Byron feels to change howyoufelt. I wanted you to give the interview absolutely everything you had. You have a hard choice to make, and even though it’s hard, you deserve the chance to make it. If you knew how Byron felt you wouldn’t have tried so hard, just so that you could turn around and say, ‘Oh well, I didn’t get it’ and stay here with Byron.”
Of course, Mya would play the hand that left Emory with as much choice as possible. She was right, if Emory had known, she would have deliberately flunked the interview and used it as an excuse to stop trying. She would have fallen onto the easy path.
“You always would have wondered what if, and that didn’t seem fair.”
Emory fell forward, dropping her head onto Mya’s shoulder. Her sobs were soft, but she still left a wet patch on her friend’s oversized shirt. Mya was right, Emory always would have wondered what if. Now, she would always wonder what if she had never gotten the job.
With impeccable timing, Clayton scurried back around the couch.
“Mummy! My! Water!” he cheered.
Emory had to force herself off Mya. She wiped her cheeks with the back of her sleeve before pasting on something that resembled a smile and turned to the three-year-old.
A small, brown glass bottle hung in each hand. He clapped them together and Emory cringed at the loudclink. Thankfully, they didn’t break.
“Woah, you got the fridge open, hey?” Mya said. She hid her wicked grin behind her hand.
Emory gave her a look that was part annoyance, part amusement. Her eyes rolled a little, and her mouth forcibly closed, but dimples appeared in her cheeks to give away her hidden laughter. She steadied herself with a slow exhale and turned back to Clayton.
“Thank you so much, buddy!”
He placed the beers in her lap, clapped to himself, then grabbed the remote from the coffee table. Emory watched in surprise as he turned the TV on. It loaded directly onto the kid’s channel that had been playing last. Clayton bounced on the spot, a smug little grin covering his face. Emory dropped her mouth open. Byron had taught him that, for sure. She certainly hadn’t.
It didn’t matter, though. Sure, she’d have to keep the remote hidden so Clayton couldn’t keep the TV on twenty-four seven, but him knowing how to turn it on wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. A little hint of independence was good, and the TV had really been their saviour during the flood.
Emory pulled herself up onto the couch and twisted one bottle open. She passed the beer to Mya and opened her own. Water schmwater. She needed something stronger to help process the hundred and fifty emotions that had been flooding her faster than the actual flood had covered the farm. It was a lot, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever fully recover.
Not here at least.
She took a long sip of her beer. The bitterness left a tang on her tongue. She clicked it away, standing up.
“Let’s take all this to the car,” she said, gesturing to the tub of toys.
“You still want to leave?”
