Page 21 of Riding the Curve

My mom nods, and turns back to my Dad. “Ex-boyfriend. I still need your help around here, and you’ll be no use to me in prison.”

Her lips quirk up, patting his chest lightly. Dad grumbles nonsense under his breath, but I can already see the crimson receding from his face and his shoulders relaxing.

“She had an unfortunate run-in with a devious carry-on.” Emerson’s voice invades the conversation, as he sits said suitcase next to me and closes the trunk.

“Too bad,” Dad growls. “I would have liked to have a reason to go after that pompous dweeb. He never was good enough for you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” My voice cracks and he steps forward once more to wrap me into his burly arms.

“A suitcase did all this?” Mom winces, her fingers gently brushing over the black eye and bruise on my forehead.

“Yeah, I tried to force it into the overhead storage. Let’s just say, it didn’t agree and came barreling back toward me. Thus why I currently look like Rocky Balboa.”

Laughter breaks out all around, the tension snuffed out with humor. I’ve always been good at that. Hiding pain with smiles.

Mom walks over to Emerson, and his smile grows wide as she wraps him in a tight embrace. She pulls back and holds his face between her palms as she speaks. “It’s so good to see you, sweet boy. It’s been so long. Thank you for looking after our girl, like always.”

His throat bobs. “You know I’ll always look out for her.” Cerulean eyes shift toward mine, cracking a fissure through the walls I’ve built around my heart.

“Good man,” Dad interrupts, patting his hand across Em’s back a few times. “Help me carry these inside?”

Both men’s grunts spring free as they lift them up the wooden stairs, then disappear into the house. My mom’s giggles trail behind them as I bend down to lift my devil suitcase in my arms.

Once I make it up the stairs, I ceremoniously let it fall to the ground so I could open the door. Just as I reach out to grab the handle, the front screen whines as it opens, and Emerson walks out. His gaze doesn’t meet mine as he slides his hands into his front pockets.

“Um . . . I’ll guess I’ll see you around?”

There’s a sliver of hope lingering in his voice, and it tugs at my heartstrings. Even though my brain wants me to say no, apparently my stubborn heart won’t let me. “Maybe,” I whisper, noticing his jaw tighten before he clears his throat.

“Right, well . . . It was good to see you again, Henley.”

Emerson’s eyes finally roll up to meet mine and I bite my lip, trying to rein in the way my body still reacts to him. Just one look, and it feels like electricity is humming underneath my skin. Even after all these years.

Without another word, he makes his way to the car and pulls out of the driveway and down the road. As I watch his taillights fade into the distance, I can’t help feeling déjà vu. A little reminiscent of a time long ago when he drove out of my life and never looked back.

Shaking my head free of the past, I haul the carry-on into my arms. It’s like the weight of my decisions over the last seven years lies heavily within it. With a groan, I shove me and my literal and figurative baggage into my home for the foreseeable future.

CHAPTER 9

Emerson

My chest caves under the weight of my emotions. I can’t fucking breathe.

Air. I need air.

Rolling down the windows, I take in a deep breath of the crisp valley air I desperately need. Once I’m free of the Cole’s ranch, I pull over to the side of the road and step out to collect myself. Folding my hands on top of my head, I pace back and forth in the dirt.

Come on Em, you’re stronger than this. Push it back, hold it in like you always do.

Dread fills my body, my legs beginning to feel like lead as I try to drag them forward.

I knew coming back home was going to trigger all the emotions I’ve been trying to keep a tight leash on, but the one thing I didn’t figure on was adding Henley into the equation.

Dust swirls around me as I pause to shove my face into my palms. My words muddle between the sweaty flesh as I reach out for advice from the one person I need most. “Mama, what am I supposed to do now? How do I fix this? How do I do this without you?”

The silence consumes me. Another reminder of the absence of a piece of my soul. Clenching my fingers into fists beside me, I release a roar of frustration. The cattle grazing on the other side of the fence startle, and their disgruntled moos temporarily ease the sorrow.

“Sorry,” I apologize to the cow judging me in between chews of alfalfa. With a huff she dismisses me, returning to graze.