Page 43 of Higher Ground
Byron nodded, the hand under her chin shifting so he could wipe some of the wetness off her cheek.
“Fuck,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have then, and I probably shouldn’t now, but I do.”
“Why shouldn’t you?”
“You’re too much. Too perfect. A grumpy farmer like me has no business with someone as phenomenal as you, Em. You have your whole life ahead of you.”
Emory laughed. It was nothing like the high-pitched glee when she played with Clayton. This was soft, like a summer breeze whipping around Byron and wrapping him in a hug.
“You’re not as grumpy as you think.” She smiled then, leaning her cheek into Byron’s hands and closing her eyes. “I mean, maybe you are,” she added with a wicked grin, “but I don’t mind. I actually kind of like it.”
Byron huffed.
“It’s true,” Emory continued. She opened her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck. For a second, she glanced over his shoulder—checking on Clayton, probably—before leaning forward and placing her forehead on his. Her hands tickled in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re this grumpy old farmer with a little extra salt in his hair, but arms of steel, eyes that see my soul, and it’s like I’m the only one who gets to see your soft side. I’m the only one who gets candles and breakfast every morning. That part of you is all for me.”
He couldn’t resist then. Byron leant forward and closed the gap between their mouths. His heart flipped in his chest as he kissed her, but there was nothing hasty or frenzied about it. Even though he held her close and wouldn’t let go, it was slow and gentle. No lust taking over, this one was all love, and Byron sank into her.
Emory shifted, never breaking the kiss, and moved into Byron’s lap. He wrapped his arms around her back and traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. She opened for him, because of course she did, but Byron hesitated. He could still hear Clayton playing behind him, and it wouldn’t take much for the boy to look over to his mother and see them. The reminder of the boy hit him like a shockwave and was followed by all the other things Byron knew to be true. Emory was studying for her future, and Byron couldn’t bring himself to ask her to stay. He’d put two and two together. Whatever she was studying, chances were slim that she’d find a job in Gardner Creek.
As though she sensed his apprehension, Emory pulled back. Byron felt every inch between them but did nothing to bridge the gap.
“Your study,” he said, still unsure exactly what he wanted to say but knowing again that it was a conversation they needed to have. “What are you going to do when you finish?”
Emory furrowed her brow, dropping her hands from his neck and clutching them together over her chest. “I don’t know.”
“I don’t want you to leave town, Em, but I can’t make you stay. I can’t ask you to stay.”
Emory looked over Byron’s shoulder. Her eyes softened a little, but she continued to pick at her nails.
“So don’t ask me,” she said. “I haven’t decided yet.”
Byron dropped his head to her shoulder. “You can’t stay for me, no matter how much I want you to.”
“Byron.” Emory’s voice was firmer now. She shoved her shoulder, pushing him up. “For the first time since I moved to this bloody town, I finally feel like I might belong here. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to finish my course, but itdoesmean I might not rush off as soon as I’m done. I get to make that decision, not you, okay?”
He nodded, and a little—tiny really, minuscule—bead of hope sparked to life in his chest. Maybe she would stay. Maybe he could have her after all.
Chapter 21
Emory
The days began to drag. Not in a mind-numbing, hopelessly boring kind of way, but in a softer, peaceful kind of way. Emory and Byron, and Clayton, fell into an easy rhythm. Byron cooked breakfast in the mornings while Clayton watched cartoons and Emory snoozed on the couch. After they ate, Emory would escape into the study to work on her assignments, and Byron would entertain Clayton. She heard them sometimes, running up and down the hall with Miff on their heels, or playing outside.
And every evening after Clayton had fallen asleep, Byron and Emory curled up on the couch. They’d start the evening with a movie but get distracted halfway through. The heat between them would rise, and the temptation grew too hard to ignore. The movie would end up rolling, forgotten, through to the credits while Emory and Byron got to know every inch of each other’s bodies.
And, oh, how they moved in sync. Byron had Emory over just about every surface in the house, and she was still desperate for more, every time. He could be rough and raw in one moment,and tender and soft right after. Emory never knew which side of him she would get, and she loved the thrill. She felt the best kind of battered and bruised, and it was excruciatingly titillating.
Their relationship had fallen into the best kind of balanced normal, and for a while there, Emory thought maybe this was what she wanted. Maybe she didn’t want to leave town if this was her new normal. The water began to creep back down the hill until four days after the rain had stopped, it started again.
This batch didn’t come in rolling thunderstorms with wild winds and sheets of water that pounded on the roof. It came slow, starting as a sprinkle that never seemed to go away, even as the day pushed on. The floodwater halted its slow decline and started rising again instead. Emory watched it through the study window, running her hands through the knotted ends of her hair. This wasn’t her new normal, it couldn’t be. Because the water wouldn’t stay this way forever. Soon enough, the rain would stop again, and eventually, the water would drain down the creek. The bridge would open.
And then what?
Would she return to the cottage?Couldshe return to the cottage? She didn’t know, and she was too scared to find out. Byron’s hill was the highest part in the region. The bulk of the Gardner Creek township was on the back end of the gentle hill that curved up on the other side of the river. Her cottage was on the outskirts, in the shallow valley on the other side of town. It was far from the river, but in the lowest part of town, and the water was widespread through Byron’s property. She could only imagine that meant it had spread just as far on the other side of the river, too.
Oddly, she wasn’t at all sad about the cottage. After all, it was never hers anyway. She was just thankful she’d taken the time to pack up all their most important belongings before they evacuated here. Besides, Jaxon was kicking her out anyway.Did an extra week or two in the cottage really make that much difference? She didn’t think so.
But when the water finally came down, where would she go? For a while there, she’d thought she knew. She thought she’d run off to the city and find somewhere close to all the jobs. The university had a socioeconomic crisis team, and sure, she hadn’t really looked into it, but she’d banked on their help. Even if she and Clayton ended up squashed in a tiny dorm room for a little while. She would be out of Gardner Creek and on her way to bigger things. Better things.
