Page 62 of Riding the Curve

After all the times I’ve pushed her away, I only have one fear. Will she still want to let me in?

CHAPTER 24

Henley

Elbow deep in suds, I scrub the pan in my hands until my fingers feel raw. Emerson and his father have been inside for almost forty minutes. From what he’s told me, this appears to be the longest he’s been inside since the first two weeks we’ve been home. Though I’m proud of him for taking such a big step, I can’t help the needling feeling spreading over my skin.

Emerson’s been holding onto something. It follows him like a shadow everywhere he goes. Though he hasn’t told me in detail what is afflicting him so deeply, I can feel it trying to dim his brightness every time it tries to peek through.

It’s almost as though he feels ashamed to be happy.

Gravel crunches behind me, startling me. The pan splashes into the water below, drenching me from head to toe.

“Oh shit!” Em’s deep chuckle bursts free from behind me as he swoops in to grab the hand towel tucked in my apron.

Before the soapy bubbles drip further down my face, I feel the soft brush of cloth against my cheek. Another long, gentle swipe, and he clears my eyes of suds. The sight before me stirs an ache in my chest.

Hair mussed. Eyes red-rimmed and swollen. Whatever went on behind those walls was either incredibly therapeutic, or it went terribly south.

Making one last gentle swipe over my neck, his lips quirk up in satisfaction. “There, all better. Now I can see those beautiful freckles again.”

The sincerity in his words makes me instantly melt. A dazzling bright smile stretches across his face.

Turning away quickly, I grab the pot beside me and dunk it into the warm water. Since that day on the plane, I’ve been failing miserably at appearing indifferent toward him. He’s hurt my heart more than once, yet he’s also the same man who’s helped me heal it.

If I’m honest with myself, Emerson is the only man I’ve ever truly wanted but could never have. Now it appears the tables have turned just like that night of my going-away party, and his sights are set on me. As much as I feel this pull between us again, do I trust him enough to believe it’s real this time?

Without a word, he passes behind me and grabs a couple of frying pans and places them on the other side of the sink. We wash silently, side by side, until I can’t take it anymore.

“Everything okay? You were gone for a while.”

He pauses, a smirk lifting his lips as he nudges my shoulder with his. “You were worried about me, Trouble?”

Nibbling on my lip, I nod.

Emerson lifts the clean pans out of the water and sets them aside. Then he turns my body to face his. “Everything’s okay.” He sighs. “You just inspired me to have a much-needed chat with my Dad.”

Drying my wet hands on the towel, I reach for his hand and interlace my fingers with his. I lift my other to cup his cheek. The stubble of his beard tickles my palm as I brush my thumb in soft strokes against it. “I know a lot of time has passed between us, but I hope you know you can tell me anything. I’ll always be here to listen. I want to be here to help you in any way I can.”

His gaze holds mine so intently, I fear I may lose myself in it. Grabbing the hand on my cheek, he lifts it and places it around his waist. With his other arm, he pulls me into his chest, embracing me tightly. Sliding my other hand around his waist, I squeeze back just as tight.

“Thank you,” he breathes into the crown of my head.

“For what?” I mumble into his hard chest.

He pulls back, enough for me to lift my head and see his face and his warm smile. “For always being there, even now after everything I’ve put you through.” His head dips for a brief moment as he collects his thoughts. “Having you back in my presence reminds me of what it feels like all over again.”

“Of what feels like?” I ask. Nerves prickling underneath my skin.

“To be completely enveloped in your light. You’ve always been able to remind me that the darkness isn’t permanent. That one day, I’ll be able to bask in the sunrise. I’m just hoping⁠—”

Lips parted, the words stall on his tongue. His gaze roams over my face, as if assessing if I’ll be able to handle what he’s about to say.

“What are you hoping for?” I breathe the words so quietly, I’m not even sure if I said it in my head or out loud.

His fingers tighten around my waist, tongue moistening his bottom lip before he speaks. “That maybe one day, I’ll be enjoying that sunrise with you beside me.”

Stunned into silence, I remain motionless as my mind struggles to catch up. Is this his way of telling me he’s ready to give what is going on between us a chance? For real this time.