Page 68 of Higher Ground
“You want me to run the farm?”
Byron hovered outside the boutique homewares store. He’d always wondered how a shop like this managed to stay open in such a small town. Everything felt overpriced, from the organic wool rugs to the hand-poured candles Emory loved. It wasn’t Byron’s kind of place, but with every day Emory spent adding her little feminine touches to the farmhouse, Byron had started to see the appeal.
And Emory really did love those candles. She burnt through the first before the bridge had reopened, and had a new scentmelting on the counter every day since Tucker brought her more. It was the only time Byron had ever seen Emory truly care for something that came out of this town. He had to make sure she wouldn’t go without them in the city.
“Yes,” he said with a smile. He leant his back against the red brick wall to the side of the shop and propped one foot back.
“Have you thought this through? You’d be giving up a lot.”
“I know, but the truth is, I barely wanted the land in the first place. I’ve spent a lot of time building up other investments, so I’m not relying on it, and now it’s time for me to let it go.” Byron let his head tip back. The sun was warm on his face, but not as warm as his heart. It had been practically singing ever since he’d come up with this outlandish plan.
Tucker hummed in contemplation. “And you’re doing all this because Emory is moving to the city?”
“Because,” Byron started. He pushed off the wall and began pacing the sidewalk. He needed to get off the phone with Tucker so he could get to the cottage and then back to Emory. She’d said she would still be at the farmhouse when he got back, but Byron didn’t want to test that any more than he needed to. “I’ve lived my whole life here. I met your mother, we had Jaxon and then you here, I took over the farm when my father retired. Everything I wanted to achieve here is done. Emory has her whole life ahead of her. It’s selfish to want her to spend it with someone like me, but there’s something between us that neither of us were expecting. Something worth more to me than the history I have in this town.”
If his son figured it out, so be it. Byron would be home to tell Emory himself soon enough.
“Woah. You really like her, huh?”
That warm feeling continued to spread until Byron was sure his giddiness was written all over his face. “I more than like her Tuck, I fucking love her. And it’s about time I show her.”
Byron’s car was filled with the bursting aroma of a few dozen candles when he finally pulled into the driveway of the cottage. The poor woman at the store had nearly had a heart attack when he told her he was going to buy all her stock. She’d clutched at her chest and tried to argue through bated breaths.
“It’s too much, you don’t have to do that,” she had said, even when Byron insisted.
Eventually, she had packed each little jar into a few large boxes and helped Byron carry them to his still-running car.
He’d thrown his credit card over the reader before she’d had a chance to tell him the price, and he still didn’t want to know. But at least now Emory would have no shortage of her new favourite candles in the city.
Byron knew he was counting on her going along with his plan. They’d shared a lot over the past few weeks, and he was sure she felt the same way that he did. If not, he was going to end up heartbrokenandhomeless.
Even though there were still a few days left on Emory’s lease, he’d taken a gamble that Jaxon would be here. And he was right. Jaxon stepped out onto the porch of the cottage before Byron had made it up the small path.
The ground was damp, but not covered in mud and gunk like the farm. Turned out the cottage had been fine all along. Emory could have stayed here. Byron was glad for the overcautious predictions of the SES and his own overprotective side. Without them, Emory never would have come to stay, and they’d probably still be lonely and pining without knowing they both felt the same way.
He needed to not think about Emory for a moment, though.
“What do you want?” Jaxon called. His arms were folded across his chest, and a deep scowl was painted on his face. His stance was exaggerated to the point it was comical, and Byron knew his son was forcing out an anger he didn’t really feel.
“To talk. Can we go inside?”
“Nope.”
Right. Maybe a little of the anger was genuine.
“Well, I came to remind you that I transferred the cottage into your name when Emory first fell pregnant. It was meant to be my retirement home, but I thought it was better for you and your family to have somewhere to live than for me to hold onto it.”
“You can’t have it back, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
A deep throbbing started in Byron’s temples. For fuck’s sake, all Jaxon could think about was himself and Byron had been stupid to think this conversation would go any other way than this. Might as well cut to the chase then.
“I don’t want it back. I’m reminding you because I’m giving Tucker the farm.”
“But the farm is worth more, that’s not fair.”
Byron’s hands curled into fists by his sides as Jaxon trailed off. A few days ago, he’d had to plead with himself not to punch his son, but now he was starting to forget why that was.
“What’s not fair,” he growled, striding forward, “is you skipping town on your son and never looking back. What’s not fair is you weaseling out of paying Emory child support by letting her stay in the cottage for free, even though I gave it to youforEmory and Clayton. You should be grateful I’m letting you keep it.”
