Page 47 of Higher Ground
“Go play while Tuck finishes his drink. Then you can go on the boat, okay?”
A grin as bright as the summer sun spread across Clayton’s face as he clapped. Tucker shifted the boy off his lap, and Clayton toddled off toward the toys spread around the living room.
Byron watched the whole interaction with a wide grin of his own. He couldn’t shake the feeling of how right this was. Emory’s presence had done more than just soften Byron’s heart. She’d embedded herself into their family and engraved her name on his chest. It was going to hurt if she left. When she left. Because the more he sat there in his feelings, the more he realised she would. She’d have to, and he didn’t blame her in the slightest.
Tucker’s deep sigh caught his attention, and Byron shook his shoulders out. Tension was building again.
“Mya is good,” Tucker said. “We just … it’s been tough. My house is as isolated as here right now, and for a while, there was no point even heading out on the boat because everything in town was closed anyway. Being stuck together probably wasn’t what we needed right away.”
He downed the last of his drink and dropped his head between his hands on the table. Byron leant forward in his seat, too far to provide any real comfort, but Emory placed a hand on Tucker’s shoulder.
“You really like her?” she asked.
Tucker’s whole upper body moved with his nod.
“She likes you, too. Okay, it’s been rough. But she’ll go home soon, and everything will be back to normal. You can go about starting a relationship the right way.”
“What if she doesn’t want that?”
“She will.”
Tucker looked up at Emory then, and even from across the table, Byron could see the glisten in his eyes. Byron had no idea Tucker was so invested in his relationship with Mya, but it made him proud.
Emory nodded at Tucker, and he did the same. A short, quick movement before sitting up straight in his chair. He slapped away the moisture on his cheeks and crossed his arms over his chest. Damn boys and their emotions, Byron thought, even though he was exactly the same.
Chapter 23
Emory
In the days that followed Tucker’s emergency food supply trip, the water slowly began to recede. First, Emory noticed the mud on the ground by the second chicken coop became less sludgy. Then the trunks of the fruit trees that lined the back of Byron’s backyard space came into view.
A few days later, the smell hit. Wet grass, soggy mud, and the dank scent of moss filled the air. Emory started lighting the candles Tucker had brought as soon as she woke each morning, but the subtle aroma did nothing to clean the air. Byron didn’t seem fazed by it, and Clayton probably hadn’t even noticed. But Emory held her breath as often as she could.
The bridge was still closed, but by the fourth day of receding water and no more rain on the forecast, it became clear that their period of isolation was, finally, coming to a close. It caused a pang in Emory’s chest she hadn’t been expecting. As it turned out, being trapped in a house with Byron had been so much better than she had imagined. She didn’t spend her days hopelessly trying not to feel her raging attraction to Byron, and she didn’t spend her nights lying in bed, on edge and unableto sleep due to the pulsing tension in her core that ached for release. No. Instead, she spent her days and nights in some kind of lust-filled bliss. She could gaze longingly at Byron as often as she wanted and not fear being caught out. Because all the times he did see her staring, he went right on and stared back. They shared affectionate touches and passion-filled glances, and every chance they got, they shared more too.
They’d fallen into the perfect rhythm, and Emory didn’t want it to end.
She sat, staring out the study window, willing herself to focus on her revision. With the receding water came the notice of her final exams. She still hadn’t brought it up with Byron, even though she knew she had to. But the truth was, she was scared. Her heart wanted her to stay, but her brain wanted to go, and she felt like no matter what decision she finally came to, she was going to get hurt.
Looking down at the giant tome in front of her, the words swam. Something about marketing and target audiences, but nothing that stood out as crucial anyway. She slammed the book shut, giving up for the day. Maybe she needed some fresh air, even if it would smell like a grotty swamp out there.
Blowing out the candle she’d lit earlier, Emory tugged her zip-up hoodie back over her shoulders. Clayton’s gentle lullaby rang out down the hall, so she tiptoed in the other direction with her fingers crossed. Byron had done so much for her while they’d been stuck here. He kept Clayton entertained every morning while she studied, putting him down for a nap whenever he needed one. Emory would emerge from the study once Clayton was asleep, thankful she wasn’t the one to fight the battle that day.
Today was no different, only Byron wasn’t fixing them both a warm drink in the kitchen when Emory walked in. He wasn’t there at all. She supposed maybe he’d gone to the den. Maybe hewanted a moment alone? He hadn’t before, and the thought was like a nail chipping into Emory’s temple. She hesitated, turning back and forth in the kitchen, trying to decide if she should go down there and see. If Byrondidwant to be alone, she couldn’t take that from him. And she shouldn’t really blame him for it either. They’d spent so much time together over the past two weeks, and maybe he just really wanted to get to the end of that book he’d been reading.
It would probably do Emory some good to spend a bit of time alone, too. Although she’d spent plenty of it, every morning, in the study, none of her time had been really hers. She’d been too focused on studying—mostly—to let her mind wander. And she did have some big decisions to make after all.
Fresh air, she finally decided. Well, stinky air, but outside all the same.
She grabbed her earphones from the little tray on the bench, stepped out onto the porch, and pulled her gumboots from the crate. Dropping the lid down, she used it as a stool while she tapped them out and pulled them on. All the little things that had become habit since she’d moved to Gardner Creek. Keeping lids closed so snakes couldn’t get in, tapping out your shoes to check for spiders. If she moved back to the city, she wouldn’t have to worry about any of it.
But she wouldn’t be with Byron.
Fuck, that’s what she always came back to, every time she tried to imagine herself finally moving on from this tiny outback town. She wouldn’t be with Byron.
With a huff, Emory stood and marched past Betty, still tied to the pergola, and down the yard towards the chicken coops. She wasn’t sure what drove her, but she had a need for physical labour she couldn’t explain. On her way past the shed, she grabbed a shovel and a wheelbarrow. Hens clucked from the largest coop. They were squished in there, but it had beennecessary to keep them all safe and dry. Now that the lower coop was clear of water, she might as well start cleaning it out for them. Sticking her earbuds into her ears, she played the best noughties playlist she could find and got to work.
The ground inside the coop was caked in mud. Emory wasn’t sure if there was supposed to be grass underneath it, but when she cleared the top layer, all she found was more sludge. She kept working, though, until the muddy ground was level and the wheelbarrow was full. Her back strained as she hefted the wheelbarrow back out of the coop. She hadn’t thought this through.
