Page 8 of Higher Ground
“But he is …”
“Yes.”
“And you’re about to …”
“Yes. Thank you, Mya. I know, okay? Iknow.It’s fucking embarrassing, so don’t you dare speak a word of this to anybody, alright? It’s just a stupid fucking crush that won’t go away, no matter how hard I try to ignore it. And besides, I don’tlike himlike him. I just think he’s really hot and every time I see him, I wonder what he’d look like without a shirt on.”
Mya paced back and forth in front of Emory, her hands flying around her. After a moment, she sat on the coffee table and took Emory’s hands in her own.
“Do youwantto ignore it?”
Emory tried not to shake her head, she really did, but her body gave away her true feelings without her consent anyway. “But it’sdumb!” Realising she was yelling, Emory dropped her voice into an exaggerated whisper. “He’s so much older than me. And he is Clayton’s grandfather! And Jaxon’s dad. I can’t do that. I shouldn’t want that.”
“But you do.”
“Yes, Mya. I do.”
Mya’s thumbs traced little circles on Emory’s palm. She focused on the feeling, trying to ignore the way it hurt to breathe.
“Emory, do you realise that if you go to Byron’s and the bridge closes, you’ll be stuck there?”
She hadn’t thought of that. This whole time, she thought she would just go about her everyday life, but at the farmhouse instead of here at the cottage. She had figured Byron would spend each day doing farm stuff, and she would go to her shifts at the café but just come home to a different house. And, okay, they would maybe eat dinner together, but it would be no harder than all the times before when he insisted they stay to eat before coming home.
But if the bridge closed?
There would be no escape. For either of them.
Emory held her breath. The bridge wouldn’t close. Mya was just being overly cautious. That’s what friends were for, right?
“The bridge won’t close,” Emory told her friend, and herself, but her voice shook with uncertainty.
“If the flood gets as high as they say it will, the bridge will close, Emory. I know the community centre would be pretty shit, and I’d offer you my place if I wasn’t also evacuating, but are you sure being fully stuck with Byron is the best idea?”
“Where are you going? Can’t we come with you and your parents?”
Mya’s nose scrunched up, and she looked down at her feet.
“Mya, where are you going?”
In one swift exhale, Mya answered, “My parents are staying with my aunt, and I’m staying with Tucker.”
“With Tucker?!”
Mya pulled her hands back and hugged her middle. Clayton came running back into the room with half a peeled banana in his hands. The other half was mushed around his mouth.
“Unky Tuck?”
At first, the cute nickname felt cosy in Emory’s ears. It was affectionate, but in half a heartbeat, it reminded Emory of just how much Clayton would be leaving behind when they left. It clawed at her throat, but she had to do this. For her. Clayton would adjust, and he would thrive in a city where he wouldn’t be excluded because of who his mother was.
Leaping off the couch, Emory swiped the packet of baby wipes from the coffee table and grabbed Clayton’s arm. She pulled him close, before he could spread the banana any further, and wiped his mouth. He squirmed under her hold, wiggling as she set him down on the coffee table next to Mya.
Emory folded her arms across her chest and nudged Mya’s leg with her toes.
“Yes, okay. But it’s new. Like,verynew, and this flood could make or break us, so I don’t think adding you two to the mix is the best idea.”
There was a lot Emory could say about Tucker being five years younger than her best friend or about Tucker’s apparent reluctance to get his life together. But she couldn’t say any of it when Mya seemed so giddy at the thought of them. The corner of Emory’s mouth began to push into her cheek. “I’m happy for you.”
“Will you be okay? With … everything?” Mya waved her arm between Emory and Clayton, then around the room.
