Page 31 of Riding the Curve

Harper strolls by and slides Hen a water, placing another fork beside my hand. “I figured she might steal this when she woke up. Cinnamon rolls are her kryptonite.”

Hen sticks her tongue out at Harper, which she returns by blowing a kiss as she walks away. Chuckling, I shake my head at these two. I may not have been around for a lot of their friendship, but you can feel the love that radiates off them whenever they are together.

Grabbing the fork, I take a huge scoop and shovel it into my mouth. When the pastry hits my tongue, I can’t help the groan that slips out. Her eyes widen. As my stupid stomach loudly protests, I’m reminded just how hungry I really am. I shove another bite into my mouth, reveling in the buttery goodness and the spicy, sweet flavors that burst on my tongue.

She sits her fork down and pushes the plate closer in front of me. “I think you need this more than I do.” Her sweet laughter fills the air.

“Thanks. I haven’t eaten anything in days.” I snort.

“What?” She gasps.

The cinnamon roll clogs in my throat as I choke. Desperation sets in when I lift my coffee cup to my lips only to find it empty. Henley shoves her water glass in front of me and I chug it down. Finally collecting myself, I come face-to-face with Mama bear Henley. Her arms folded across her chest, her brows furrowed with concern.

“What do you mean you haven’t eaten in days?”

“I—obviously, I’ve eaten. It’s just been junk from the shop vending machine.” I ramble, trying to avoid discussing the real reason I’ve not had a real meal in over a week.

“A vending machine?” Her tone is suddenly stern. “Em, you can’t live off that crap! Why aren’t you eating with your Dad?”

“Well, I was—I mean I did⁠—”

Henley places her palm over mine. The lies I was about to spew to cover my tracks die on my tongue. Her thumb rubs soothingly over my skin, and the chaos of my mind goes still.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she says calmly. “You heard my truth, let’s hear yours.”

Defeated, I lower my head, letting it hang as I gather the courage. I don’t talk about my emotions with anyone. Ryleigh tried a few nights ago, while we sipped on our beers at the bar, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

When I lift my head, I’m met with kind eyes. Their gentleness washes over me, giving me the strength I need to vocalize the emotions that haunt me.

“She’s everywhere.” My voice cracks, and she squeezes my hand to the point of pain. “I feel like I can’t breathe when I’m inside the house. I’ve been trying so hard, but everything I touch, each corner I turn, holds onto some memory of our past. Over and over, the memories, both good and bad, assault me. But it’s the bad ones that keep me awake at night. Those are the ones that leave me physically ill and full of regret. I’m tired, Hen. Both physically and mentally. I just don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

I look up to see tears welling in Henley’s eyes. She catches my gaze, rapidly blinking to try to hold them in, but fails. Leaning forward, I reach for her cheeks and brush them away. Her lip wobbles, and my heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of my chest. We linger in limbo, only mere inches separating us. It takes everything in me to lean backward.

“Don’t cry, Hen. I can’t stand to see you upset,” I whisper.

Unfortunately, my words make her do just that. Tears pour out like a waterfall, and I curse the table that feels like a canyon between us. All I want to do is round the table and wrap her into my arms, but I know that’s too much for her right now. Like the ride home from the airport, I don’t want to push her to retreat away from me again. So instead I grab the cloth napkin and place it in her trembling hand. Clutching it tightly, she wipes away the wetness.

“I’m sorry.” She sniffles. “I’m supposed to be comforting you, not the other way around.”

“Truthfully, just being able to admit that out loud to somebody has already made the pressure building in my chest over these past few weeks a little easier to bear,” I say, making a weak attempt at a smile.

She grabs my palm again, this time with less of a death grip. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Those last couple of years, and . . . for the funeral. Sadie threatened to fire me if I flew back home. Looking back now, I should have taken that as my first hint. You and your family have always been there for me, and when you needed me most, I wasn’t there. I—” Her lips quivers as her gaze drifts to the table. She presses her lips tightly together before her eyes slowly roll up to meet mine.“I should have been there for you.”

The words came out as barely a whisper. Her eyes widen in shock, no doubt surprised as I am. Swallowing deeply, I try to find the right words to respond.

“There was a lot going on in your own life, Hen. Mama knew how much you loved her. We know how much you love us, as well.” I swallow down my own emotion before continuing. “Don’t let that guilt tarnish all the good memories you have with her. She wouldn’t want that for you, nor would I.”

I squeeze her palm, and her head bobs in agreement as she lets my words sink in. Her thumb brushes against my hand. It was gentle and brief, but still managed to send a ripple of electricity through my nervous system.

“You can’t keep going on like this, Em. I don’t know how long you are going to be in town, but your body is going to give out if you don’t start taking care of it. Especially if you don’t allow yourself to find some peace.”

Nurturing has always been a part of Henley’s personality. She’s always been able to know exactly what someone needs. Ryleigh and I gave her the nickname ‘Mama bear’ growing up for this very reason. I’ve learned to keep my emotions behind a shield for most of my life, but Henley’s been the only one who could ever pierce right through it. Like magic, she always knew when I was at my lowest point. It’s one of the things I find most endearing about her.

Memories of our past filter into my mind. I can almost hear her feet thundering up the stairs with a slice of pie or cake. Can almost taste the sweet and salty crunch of the cookies she used to send to me during every racing season, each one with little notes of encouragement tucked inside. Another one of the many things I’ve missed over these past years.

“I could say the same to you.” I raise a brow, and surprise flitters through her face. “Harper told me about your couch situation.”

“Oh.” She leans back into the bench cushion, fingers twirling within the ends of her hair. “Yeah, it hasn’t been exactly ideal. I was thinking of finally investing in a blow up mattress today.”