Page 33 of Higher Ground
She cleared her throat. “I’ll move it to my bedroom. Sorry.”
“What is it?”
“My uni work. I have an assignment to finish, and I figured since we’ll all be stuck here, I might as well make good use of the time. It won’t be as quiet as the library, but I’ll make do.”
“No.”
Emory scrunched her brows together.Excuse me?
“You can use the study. When you need it, you can close the door, and I’ll keep Clayton occupied. So, you can finish your assignment in peace.”
Byron relaxed his grip on Emory’s hand, turning to the table. He stacked Emory’s computer on top of the large pile of books, then picked them all up. Without another word, he carried them through the house and back to the small room off the entry. Emory had never paid it much attention; the double barn-style doors were usually closed. Byron pushed one side open with his foot and walked in to place the pile of texts on the large desk that stood in the centre of the room.
The study was exactly what Emory expected it to be—after she found out there was one. The room was small, with a large wooden desk that commanded the space. A sophisticated leather armchair sat in the corner by the window, and a respectable office chair was behind the desk. Emory had a sudden vision ofherself at that chair, between Byron’s legs. Her eyes closed as she held back the tiny whimper that made her lip tremble.
Byron froze, still facing the desk. Emory wondered if he was imagining the same thing she was. But if he was, he didn’t act on it. Instead, he rolled his shoulders back and tilted his head to one side to stretch out his neck.
He didn’t speak as he left the room, but Emory was certain she could hear the increased raspiness of his breath as he passed.
Chapter 16
Byron
Byron sat, cradling his coffee between his hands as the rain poured. After clear skies all day, it had started as a sprinkle a little after lunch, fat raindrops leaving a melodic clatter on the tin roof. Clayton had dropped the monster trucks Emory had borrowed from the library to stare up at the ceiling, and as if on cue, the crashing intensified. It was so loud, Byron could barely hear his own thoughts, although that was probably a good thing. He needed a break. Needed to stop thinking of Emory in the study.
He barely used the room. Maybe once a week, he’d been in there checking off the admin for the farm and keeping an eye on his investments. He’d grown quite the portfolio over his years of running this place, always keeping his options open in case farm life suddenly wasn’t for him. So, he was glad the room was getting a bit more use.
That, and he couldn’t stop seeing Emory behind the desk. She was nestling her way into his home, his life. And he loved it almost as much as it hurt to know it was temporary.
With the rain coming down as heavy and as often as it was, they were going to be trapped in this house for a while yet. Maybe even longer than the week he had planned for. But it was all going to end eventually.
Clayton dropped a monster truck onto the couch beside Byron’s lap. “Papa?”
Carefully, Byron shifted the coffee mug into one hand and away from Clayton’s grabby fingers. “This one for me?” he asked, picking up the deep purple truck. Paint had chipped away in more than a few places, and the plastic roof had collapsed. Such were the joys of borrowing well-used and much-loved toys from the community library. Byron figured his own sons might have played with this small purple truck, once upon a time. Tucker and Jaxon had loved racing anything with wheels around the house.
He shrugged off the thought of his eldest son. Byron didn’t want to think about what Jaxon might think if he had any inkling of what Byron and Emory wanted to do. Of what they weregoingto do if Byron got his way.
Nothing filled the empty pit in Byron’s gut when he thought of his estranged son. He’d grown used to it, for the most part, but it still gnawed inside him. Even so, it wasn’t worth stressing over Jaxon. He made his bed a long time ago, and Byron had hardly heard from him since. Chances are, he’d never even find out about the flood, let alone the sleeping arrangements of his ex-girlfriend. Didn’t make it easier for Byron, though, to give in knowing what was at stake. Whatever minor chance he had of reforging a relationship with his son down the track, Emory was going to be a wedge between them. No matter what happened in the next week.
Jaxon had done her wrong, and Byron was realising more and more how muchrightshe deserved.
Byron gulped at his coffee, letting the liquid wash away his reckless thoughts. Once the mug was empty, he dropped it to the table and stood up to play in Clayton’s game.
Following his grandson around the room, Byron steered his toy around the obstacle course. Clayton cheered as the trucks crashed together in one final heap. The two continued playing as the rain got heavier and heavier. The sky grew so dark, Byron got up to turn the lights on.
Emory’s silhouette in the doorway shocked him.How long had she been watching them?
“You’re good with him, you know? Better than me.” She held back her tight smile, pressing her lips together. Byron wanted to reach out and press his thumb between them, forcing out the smile she fought against.
His fingers twitched, but he resisted, reaching beside her to turn on the overhead lights instead.
“Muchbetter than me,” Emory continued, still watching her son. She hadn’t looked at Byron yet. If she had, she might have noticed the way his eyes were trailing her collarbone or the way he pulled his lower lip between his teeth.
“I doubt it.”
Emory looked at him then, and shoved his shoulder with her tiny hand. “I mean it. Ihateplaying with him like that. It’s so … monotonous. Boring. God, that makes me a terrible mother, doesn’t it?”
“No,” Byron said, giving in to temptation and cupping her cheek. “It makes you human. It’s pretty boring to me too, but look at the smile on his face. That’s worth it.”
