Page 58 of Riding the Curve

“In regard to Mama, I already told you that she would never want you to feel bad about not being here in the end. You never need to apologize. She loved you so damn much, Henley. Knowing this still torments you would break her heart. Instead of dwelling on her absence, she’d want you to fill your moments with happiness.”

I squeeze his palm harder. “She would want the same for you. Being surrounded by so many things that remind you of her can be difficult, I know. But instead of letting grief twist them into pain, you’ve got to grab hold of those memories and remind yourself just how much happiness and light are within them. Autumn would want to know you and your Dad are okay. I imagine she’d rather watch you have family dinners together like before instead of building a wall so big that not even you can break free of it.”

His eyes widen, and for a moment the pressure in my chest begins to compress once more.

“You’re right,” he sighs. “I’ve been building my wall for so long, I can’t even control it when it happens anymore.”

He wipes a palm over his face before he resumes speaking. “Listen, you have nothing to prove to anyone, including yourself. You may not be able to see your worth, but we all do. We have for years. No burnt slab of beef is ever going to make me think any less of you. You just need to open your eyes and believe it.”

Shivers ripple through me as he reaches up and tucks my hair behind my ear. “You are an incredible woman, Henley Rae Cole.”

“Did you just full name me, Emerson Alexander Lane?” I smile, my voice still raspy.

“Figured it’s the only way I could make you stop and listen.” He smirks. “It’s always worked for me.” With a shrug, he pushes himself off the stool, sliding it back under the table.

As he turns to leave, I grab his bicep, halting him in his path. I need to get this off my chest before we all sit down to dinner tonight. His curious gaze leaps from my hand to my face as he turns back around to face me.

“He loves you so much, Em.” I breathe, watching his shoulders gently fall. “The entire night that we talked, you were the topic of conversation. Proud is an understatement for the way Preston feels about you, Em.”

I swallow deeply, preparing myself for my next words. “Your Dad misses you. He knows you’re still struggling, and I think he’s been trying to give you space, but he’s hurting too, Em.”

His gaze falls to his shoes, nodding silently in agreement.

“Maybe it would be a good idea for you both to have a little chat sometime soon. I think it would be good for the both of you.”

Emerson’s eyes roll up slowly, meeting mine. “Thank you, Hen.” He extends his hand and brushes his knuckles across my cheeks. “Ready to head back?” He helps me slide off the table. “Seeing all that food has my stomach growling already, now I’m starving.”

Following a few steps behind, I can practically feel each tightened muscle unlock, one by one. Awareness ripples through me.

Em has always been the quiet to my storm. The stillness to my chaos.

I’m beginning to feel like we’re two sides of the same coin. Entangled. Interwoven. Connected by this invisible force. Perhaps we are inseparable parts of a whole.

CHAPTER 23

Emerson

“That was the most amazing meal that I’ve had in such a long time,” Dad says while stretching his arms over his head. “If you keep cooking like that every day, I’m going to need to start Em’s exercise regimen. Or buy bigger pants.”

I snort into my glass of wine and Henley backhands my shoulder.

“Oh hush, Preston. You could easily pass as Emerson’s older brother.” Henley’s sweet voice coos as she collects our plates.

Is Dad blushing? Yep, he sure is.

Chuckling to myself, I stand up and take the plates out of Henley’s hands. “You did all the cooking, let us clean up. Just sit down and relax.” She crinkles her nose in protest, but I raise a brow and she surrenders the final plate she has a death grip on.

Turns out this woman’s stubbornness knows no bounds. After I place the dishes in the outside sink, I come back to the table to find her putting all the food in containers and swatting away Dad’s attempts to help like a ninja. They playfully battle back and forth with the containers, grins spread wide across their faces.

The sight almost brings me to my knees. Taking a deep breath, I knead my chest, trying to soothe the ache growing in my heart. Happiness and sorrow collide together in a painful tug-of-war.

Each day, Henley seeps deeper into every fiber of my being, quietly mending the tattered pieces of my soul. She’s like a burst of light, igniting all the darkest parts within me, releasing the feelings I’ve let lie dormant for so long, afraid of what they might do to me if I actually allow myself to feel them.

Just in the short time we’ve been home, she’s reminded me that my own grief has blinded me to one very important thing. I’ve left my father alone for two years. Alone in this house, with only our shadows of the past to keep him company. Shame crawls its way in.

Shoving down the pain of Mama’s death seemed like the only option that I had. But I see now how selfish that idea was. Not only did it fester like a wound, but it’s flipped my entire world upside down. It’s also kept me away from the place that’s always grounded me and the man that shaped me to be everything I am today.

As I approach the table, they pause and turn toward me. My expression must show my feelings because I watch their bright smiles dull a smidge. Like they feel guilty for having a moment of happiness in front of me. The guilt leaves a stinging burn.