Page 17 of Riding the Curve

When her reddened eyes lock with mine, I suck in a sharp breath. I’ve never been able to stomach tears in her eyes.

“I discovered my boyfriend’s been cheating on me, and I bet you’ll never guess who I caught him with!” Her wild eyes cloud with tears, anger rolling off her in waves.

When I don’t answer, she does for me.

“Sadie fucking Sinclair!” she yells, tugging at the ends of her shirt.

“Isn’t that your⁠—”

“Boss?” she interjects. “Why, yes, it is. The idiot cheated on me with my boss! The woman who gave me the scholarship. The one who was going to make me head chef of her restaurant when she opened her second. The same boss that fired me on the spot, when I caught them just after they had . . . after they just–”

A mournful sob cuts off her words. Hunching over, she clutches her chest with both hands. Gulping for breath, she wobbles back over to the car, balancing against it while she struggles to take in air.

Tentatively, I approach her side and place a palm on her upper back. She flinches but doesn’t push me away as I begin to rub small circles against it. Every little gasp of air she tries to take splinters my heart. I can’t take it any longer; I need her in my arms now. Need to show her she’s safe. Spinning her around, I pull her into my chest and wrap my arms securely around her.

Her body squirms to get away from my embrace, but her need for air becomes more important than getting out of my hold. Hen’s focus shifts to trying to force her lungs to take in air, as I rub her back in soothing circles. The raspy gasps that rattle through her make me want to hold her even closer. As if the closer she is to my chest, next to my breathing, would somehow remind her lungs to do the same.

I thread one hand gently through her hair while the other holds her firmly against my body. Cars zoom by us on the road, but the noise becomes a gentle hum as the world fades away.

In this moment, it’s just me and her. Nothing else matters to me except helping her get to the other side of this.

“That’s it, Hen, deep breaths. Slow and steady. . .ride out this curve. You’re almost through it. Deep breaths,” I whisper against the top of her head, using the same mantra that has gotten me through more hard times than I can count in my life. Her arms snake their way around my waist as her fingers dig into the back of my shirt.

“I lost my h-home,” she sniffles against my chest. “My job, my future, my identity, all in one day. I-I don’t know who I am anymore, Em.”

Just as the words leave her lips, her legs give out underneath her. Holding her trembling body tighter against mine, I try my best to absorb all her pain as she unleashes it in waves. “Breathe, Hen. I’m right here, I’ve got you. I won’t let you go, okay?”

The feel of her head burrowing deeper into my chest causes a familiar ache to emerge. I know exactly how she feels. ‘Who am I?’ is the same question I’ve been trying to answer for the past two years. The very reason I find myself heading back to Oakley Falls.

Little by little, I can feel her tense muscles unravel. Her breathing becomes steadier as the storm finally passes through her. But her fingers are still wound tightly around my shirt, as if she can’t bear the thought of letting go.

“You are Henley Rae Cole. One hell of an amazing chef, and the most compassionate soul that I’ve ever met.” My throat bobs. And the one I let get away.

As if my words were like salt to an open wound, her body tenses all over again. Her tight grip vanishes and she tears herself away from my grip. My body already growing cold without her warmth.

While smoothing the tangled hair from her forehead, her fingers graze over the giant bruise. A whimper spills from her lips. Her freckled nose wrinkles as her eyelids squeeze tightly shut. Taking a step forward, my heart deflates as she shuffles further out of my space. The small window she had lifted open is now firmly shut. Rightfully so, as I don’t even deserve that small sliver she just allowed.

Shoving my hands into my pockets, I kick the gravel beneath my shoes and clear the emotion from my throat. “Let’s get you home.”

A solemn nod is the only response I get. Hen straightens her shoulders and rubs her damp palms against her jeans, wiping away any evidence of the fissure that tore into her normally put-together persona. Giving her room to breathe, I hang back while she slides into the seat.

I climb into the driver’s seat, glancing quickly to make sure she’s buckled, then hit the ignition and pull back onto the road. The rest of the journey home was filled with uncomfortable silence.

Only our invasive thoughts keep us company.

CHAPTER 7

Emerson

AGE 15

“Emerson Alexander Lane!”

Hearing my full name made us both freeze. Ryleigh groaned, tossing his head up to the sky as I chuckled.

“I really thought we’d been stealthy this time,” he sighed as we watched Henley scamper over the grassy field toward us. By the time she made it to the dock, she fell dramatically onto the grass, sprawling out like a starfish in front of us. Tossing an arm over her face, she yelled at us in between pants.

“You said . . . you wouldn’t leave me behind . . . anymore!”