Bryce stared at her in shock. Despite the low light, he could tell she looked as if she regretted saying the words.
“That’s not true, Emma. You don’t really believe that, do you?”
She fidgeted with a loose thread on her jeans but didn’t directly answer his question.
“Things were so tough that last year. I’m sure she was relieved after I left.”
“And I’m just as certain she wasn’t. I don’t know all that transpired between you and your mom back then. I can tell you I know for absolute fact that Rosie missed you every single day you were gone.”
She made a small sound of disbelief and he couldn’t resist reaching out and covering her hand with his. “Your mother loves you, Em, whatever happened in the past. That’s the most important thing. She loves you and she wants to make things right between the two of you, whatever it takes.”
Her fingers were small and cool in his. She curled them into a fist under his hand but she made no effort to pull away. Instead, she smiled unexpectedly, a sudden ray of sunshine breaking through storm clouds. It started small, a slight upturn of her lips, but quickly blossomed into something radiant and transformative, as if touched by starlight.
“You are full of advice tonight, aren’t you?”
“Full of something,” he muttered.
He wanted to kiss her with a fierce need that made his chest ache.
What would she do if he tried it?
Probably smack him, if he knew his Emma.
Not his, Bryce reminded himself. She was her own strong, courageous, fascinating self. If he’d had a thing for her since elementary school, that washisproblem.
Chapter Seventeen
Rosie
As much as she enjoyed these neighborhood parties, hosting one was such a pain in the butt. Rosie looked around her yard at the devastation two hundred people had created. She had to be grateful her turn to host only came around every few years.
Her neighbors weren’t really a wild crowd. Everyone was respectful and kind and did their best to clean up after themselves. But anytime a group of people gathered together to eat and talk and enjoy a summer evening together, some level of mess was inevitable.
She was working on cleaning the area around the grill when she heard her granddaughter complain to her mother about something, in a whine Rosie couldn’t make out.
Olive wasn’t a big whiner. She was likely exhausted from a busy day of helping them set up for the party and an evening spent with new friends. Poor thing.
Rosie approached the two of them, who were collecting trash. “You don’t need to stay and help, Emma. I’ve got this. Why don’t you take her to bed.”
Emma frowned. “That’s not fair. You did all the work throwing together the party. The least I can do is help you clean it up. It’s too much for one person to do alone.”
Over the past decade, Rosie had become an expert at handling the world on her own. What other choice had she been given?
“I’ll be fine. Take her up to bed. If I’m still at it after she’sasleep—and if you have any remaining energy—you can come back down and help me. It’s not necessary, though. I don’t plan to do much more than straighten up the yard for now so we don’t draw every raccoon in Oregon. I’ll take care of the rest in the morning.”
Though Emma looked as if she wanted to say more, Olive yawned. Emma sighed.
“Fine. Say good-night to your grandmother, then.”
“Night, Grandma.”
When Rosie bent down for a hug, Olive threw her arms around her neck. She hugged the little girl tightly, her heart full.
“What can I do to help?” As she made her way toward Rosie on her crutches, Sylvia looked almost as exhausted as Olive had.
“You can go to bed, too. Please, before you fall over. The last thing we need is another broken bone.”
Sylvia sighed. “I’m sorry. I feel mighty worthless these days.”
