Page 71 of Higher Ground
“I love you,” Byron whispered when they broke the kiss.
Emory felt a warmth that had nothing to do with the sun spreading through her. It wrapped around her heart like a comforting hug. “I love you, too.”
Vaguely, she registered the sound of the screen door clanging, of footsteps along the gravel, and of Mya’s sharp gasp.
“Clayton, buddy, let’s … um … go back inside. We’ll show Mummy the picture later.”
“Papa!”
Underneath Byron’s mouth, Emory smiled. She’d always loved the relationship Byron and Clayton shared, even if he let her son watch too much TV and taught him how to climb over the back of the couch. He’d adjust, she knew. And they would deal with the questions as he grew. Nothing would be too hard, not when the love between all three of them was so strong.
Still, there were certain things a three-year-old didn’t need to see. She moved to the side, trying to wriggle herself free from Byron’s hold, but he pulled her back in place.
“He should see how in love his mum and Papa are,” he whispered.
Chapter 36
Byron
Later that evening, whilst Emory settled Clayton into bed, Byron found himself in the den, staring up at the wall of books. This dim room had seen more light in the past few weeks than it had in the previous decade. What started as Byron’s small escape from the temptation he’d been determined to resist soon became a lively room. Clayton loved exploring the bookshelves almost as much as Byron and Emory, and Byron was a little annoyed at himself for not thinking to bring him down here sooner. All this time, he’d brought books out for Clayton instead.
It didn’t matter, though. Because they’d be moving soon.
The thought pinched at something near Byron’s heart. It was the right call, but knowing that didn’t make the reality of saying goodbye to the farm any easier. He’d grown up here, he’d fallen in love here—twice now—and he’d had the boys here. Tucker and Jaxon, sure, but Clayton too.
Saying goodbye was going to be hard. He was glad he could pass it on to Tucker, though. The Gardner legacy over the farm would live on for at least one more generation.
With a sigh, Byron leant his weight against the pool table and started calculating how exactly they were going to move that many books. If they’d even have space for them in the city. There was a lot to figure out, but it didn’t faze Byron. Not really.
Although maybe Tucker would want to keep all the books here, then they wouldn’t have to pack them all up. Byron was fit from his years working on the farm, but even he knew how heavy books could get.
“You know,” Emory’s voice cut through his thoughts as she stepped into the room. Byron shifted his gaze to take her in. Perfect, she was always perfect.
Falling into place next to him, Emory nudged his arm with her shoulder before continuing her sentence, “Weeks ago, I really thought you were down here hiding because you couldn’t stand the thought of me being in your space.”
A chuckle rolled through Byron’s throat. “I was hiding,” he admitted. “But I was hiding because I thought if I saw you making yourself at home in my house, I’d never let you leave.”
“Thank you for letting me leave.” Emory’s voice dropped, and she wrung her hands in front of her stomach. “But are you sure you want to move to the city? You’ve never evenbeen. This farm has been your whole world.”
Byron shifted his weight off the table and stood in front of her. His hands rested next to her thighs, caging her in against the table, and he towered over her so she had to lift her head to look at him. A tiny crease sat between her brows, and her lips pressed together.
“It was my whole world, Em. But that’s not always a good thing. And besides, it’s not anymore.”
She furrowed her brow further, and Byron kissed the wrinkles from her forehead.
“You’re my world now, Emory, and I would move to the other side of the Earth if it meant I could spend my days with you.”
A tiny tear escaped his eyes, trailing down his cheek until it pooled in the corner of his mouth. Byron poked his tongue through his lips to lick the salty liquid. Emory’s eyes tracked the movement, her worrisome look melting away as her mouth dropped open ever so slightly.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Her eyes never left his lips, and her voice began to shake as Byron closed himself into her.
“You know,” he said as he shifted his hands to graze up her arms. “I never showed you how to play pool. It would be a shame if we left and you never learned.”
Emory tilted her head. “You better show me then.”
He stepped back, hating the chill the gap between them sent through his bones. He racked the balls and grabbed a cue from the wall, never quite taking his gaze off Emory. She watched him with her arms folded across her chest. The line was back between her brows, and she bit her lip as she tracked how he set up for the game.
Byron took the first shot, breaking the triangle and sending the balls flying across the felt. Satisfied at the spread, and ignoring the balls that dropped into pockets, Byron turned to Emory and held out the cue.
