Page 25 of Higher Ground
Her cheeks burned. Of course he wasn’t.
Turning on her heel, she steadied the books again and raced away. This was going terribly. First, she’d been caughtbuyingthe condoms, then she’d been caught trying to hide them like some teenage kid. She wouldn’t have blamed Byron if they never got used. The whole thing was probably a giant red flag to him. A blinding reminder of their differences. He always seemed so sure of himself, so steady even when things went awry. Emory was nothing like that. She flinched away the second things got awkward or uneasy. It was probably an age thing, she mused. And that should have turned her away, but it didn’t. It only made her want it more.
Byron was twenty years older than her, for heaven’s sake. And sure, all the moral parts of her could see why that meant she shouldn’t feel this way about him, but the immoral parts? The part that enjoyed romance books that took morally grey a little over the line, or had heroes a little too broody? That part was positively giddy at the thought of her and Byron giving in. It was forbidden in all the best ways, and that’s what made it so alluring.
Dropping all the books and the box of condoms on her bed, she hesitated. She figured she had two choices here, only she wasn’t certain she was capable of pulling either of them off.
She could, if she could manage it, walk out there with her head high, her shoulders back, and her breasts out. She could sway her hips and lean right into the seduction and let Byron know exactly what she had been thinking when she bought the condoms. She could knock him off his feet, leave him speechless, and make the evening drag as they waited for Clayton’s bedtime.
Or—and this was the more likely scenario—she could walk out there with her usual slightly hunched posture and act as though nothing had happened. She could put away groceries without giving Byron a second glance, then head into the living room to play with Clayton as though it were any other day. As though nothing out of the ordinary had been bought at the shops. She’d just have to control the constant lump in her throat and ignore the tingle that was still creeping down her spine.
She hadn’t made her mind up yet about which option she would attempt when a loud clap of thunder shook the house. Her heart froze, and adrenaline raced through her at the shock. Clayton’s cries followed almost immediately after, and she raced out of the room. All thoughts of Byron and how she should act had evaporated.
Byron arrived in the living room at the same time she did. From the kitchen, she presumed. Clayton stood, surrounded by cars, in the middle of the room with his hands over his ears. Emory navigated her way around the furniture to reach him, but Byron wasted no such time. He vaulted over the back of the couch and landed next to the coffee table. His arm reached out, and Clayton fell into his Papa’s embrace.
“Shh,” Emory heard Byron whisper into Clayton’s ear. “Papa’s here. And Mummy. Everyone is safe. Thunder is scary when you aren’t ready for it. I know.”
All his calming reassurance was lost on Clayton’s whimpering, but it meant the world to Emory. He hadn’t told Clayton to stop crying, or that he was okay, or that it was nothing to be scared about. No. Byron had acknowledged Clayton’s feelings, just like Emory always tried to do.
She sat down on the floor next to them and placed her hand on Clayton’s back. Feeling her touch, Clayton climbed onto his mother’s lap, but he kept a tight hold of Byron’s arm. He forcedthe two together until they were sitting in an awkward three-way hug.
“Thank you,” Emory said after Clayton had settled in her lap.
Byron huffed. “I used to be terrified of the storms when I was younger. I would have been older than Clayton, but I remember hiding in my room, jumping at every crack of thunder. I’d lie awake all night listening to the rain, too nervous to fall asleep.”
He sank into himself a little then, curling his shoulders down. Emory felt the movement beside her, it pressed Byron’s side into her own. She didn’t know what made her rest her head against Byron, but she did. The pounding in her head remained. Her ears still burned because of the whole condom situation, but the steady rise and fall of his chest calmed her a little. The silence between them was broken by Clayton’s residual whimpers against her, but the whole thing felt comforting and … perfect.
“That must have been hard.”
“It sucked,” Byron scoffed. “But if I ever told my dad, he’d say a storm was nothing to be scared of and I needed to grow up. It wasn’t his fault; it was the generation. But I knew then I’d never let my boys feel that scared without helping them through it.”
“But Clayton …”
“Clayton’s my boy. Just as much as Tucker and Jaxon. It’s not his fault his real dad fucked off.”
Right. That changed things, Emory figured. She just wasn’t sure how. Or what, exactly. Her immediate thought was of how selfish she had been to think she could just leave town as soon as she finished her degree. She still wanted to go, she still would go, she thought, but she’d have to come up with a better solution to letting Byron know. He was the closest thing to a father Clayton had. And clearly, her son meant more to Byron than she had realised.
It also made the pounding between her ears start up again. Could she really dive into a week-long fling with the man,knowing he considered Clayton his boy? It reminded her of all the messy details and excess baggage the two of them held.
“That’s making you think of the box, isn’t it?”
She held her breath. How did he know?
“As far as I can see, Em, we’re both adults. We both know whatever this is between us is just for now. I’m too old for you, and you have too much life ahead of you to get stuck living on a farm. If it comes to it, what’s the harm in letting off a little steam?”
If that was all it was to Byron, maybe it could be a fun idea after all. Emory could ignore that itching part of her heart called hope. She knew, for all the reasons Byron mentioned and all the ones he didn’t, that they couldn’t be anything more than a good time. And it had been such a long time since she’d enjoyed herself.
They were stuck here, after all. Releasing the tension was probably a good idea. But then, if they did, what would happen to that little piece of her heart? Would it grow? Would she be setting herself up for heartbreak? She’d had enough of that to last her forever. She didn’t need any more.
Stuck in her own spiralling thoughts, Emory shook her head. She bounced between thinking it was a good idea andknowingit was a bad one. If they were going to do this—and it was a bigifbecause she still wasn’t sure they should—she’d have to build a big, cushioned wall against her heart and hope for the best.
Rain pelted against the tin roof, breaking the silence but doing nothing to slice the tension between them. Byron shuffled against her, clearing his throat. Right, he was probably expecting an answer. Some sort of recognition for his proposal. Emory hummed, but still couldn’t find the right words to say.
Chapter 12
Byron
The storm raged, on and on and on. From that moment they shared in the living room as the first of the rain hit the roof, it continued to pour well into the night. Byron held back his fear as much as he could, but the truth was, he was scared shitless. He’d been telling the truth when he opened up to Emory, but he left one crucial piece of evidence from the story. The storms still petrified him.
