Page 23 of Hooked on Emerson (Hooked #2)

E merson’s truck rolled to a stop in front of Ava’s house.

It was exactly seven o’clock. The sky stretched above in watercolor shades of pale blue and pink.

He sat for a moment, hands resting on the steering wheel, watching the front door and wondering what version of Ava he would see today.

The carefully distant one from yesterday, or the one who had reached for him in the storm-dark shop two nights ago?

The door opened before he could text that he’d arrived.

Ava stepped out wearing jeans and a soft green sweater, her hair loose around her shoulders, a small backpack slung over one arm.

There was something tentative in her smile as she approached the truck, as if she too was wondering what today would hold.

“Morning,” she said, sliding into the passenger seat. She held out a travel mug. “As promised. Black, no sugar.”

“Thanks.” Their fingers brushed as he took it, the brief contact sending a warmth through him he fought to ignore. “Sleep okay?”

“Not really.” She fastened her seatbelt, her movements deliberate. “You?”

“About the same.”

The simple honesty of their exchange eased something in Emerson’s chest. At least they weren’t pretending. At least that much was real between them.

He pulled away from the curb, the truck’s engine a low rumble in the quiet morning. The streets were empty, most of Millfield still asleep. Dew glistened on lawns and rooftops, catching the first real light of day.

“Pond first?” he asked, though they’d already planned this.

Ava nodded, her gaze on the passing scenery. “Yes. The bookstore doesn’t open until ten anyway.”

They drove in silence for a while. Emerson stole glances at her profile when he could, noting the slight tension in her jaw, the way her fingers curled around her coffee cup as if seeking its warmth. She looked tired, shadows beneath her eyes suggesting her night had been as restless as his own.

Miller’s Pond lay at the edge of town, a small, natural body of water surrounded by trees and meadows. In summer, families came to picnic and swim. In autumn, it was quieter, more solitary. The perfect place for two people navigating the uncertain waters between them.

The dirt parking area was empty when they arrived.

A light mist hovered over the pond’s surface, ghostly tendrils reaching up from the water like searching fingers.

The trees along the shore wore their autumn colors proudly—gold, crimson, burnt orange—reflected in the still water like a painting someone had smudged with a careless thumb.

“It’s beautiful,” Ava said softly, her first words since they’d left town. “I can’t believe I’ve lived here my whole life and never done this.”

Emerson nodded. “Sometimes the things closest to us are the easiest to overlook.”

The rental canoe sat upside down on a small wooden dock, paddles leaning against a nearby tree. Emerson flipped it with ease, checking for spiders or debris before sliding it into the water with a gentle splash. Ava watched from the shore, her arms wrapped around herself against the morning chill.

“Ever been canoeing before?” he asked, holding the boat steady against the dock.

She shook her head. “Mom always talked about it. Said she and my dad used to come here when they were dating. But we never got around to it.”

“It’s easy enough,” he said, offering his hand to help her in. “Just follow my lead.”

Her fingers were cold as they slipped into his, her grip firm despite her obvious nervousness.

He steadied her as she stepped carefully into the canoe, the craft rocking slightly beneath her weight.

For a moment, she clutched his hand tighter, her balance uncertain.

Then she found her seat at the front, releasing him with a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Emerson pushed off from the dock, stepping into the canoe with the practiced motion of someone who’d done this many times before.

The vessel glided smoothly onto the pond, water lapping gently against its sides.

He settled into the rear seat, paddle in hand, and with a few strong strokes, guided them away from shore.

The morning was still and quiet around them.

No wind stirred the trees, no birds called from the shore.

Just the soft splash of paddles entering water, the gentle creak of the canoe as it cut through the pond’s glassy surface.

Mist swirled around them, cool against their skin, tasting of earth and water when they breathed it in.

Ava dipped her paddle tentatively at first, her strokes uneven, but soon found her rhythm. They moved in tandem, the canoe gliding deeper into the pond, leaving a widening V of ripples in their wake. The shore receded, the trees becoming a solid wall of color around the water’s edge.

“You’re a natural,” Emerson said after a while, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them.

Ava glanced back at him, a genuine smile touching her lips. “It feels good. Being on the water like this.”

“Peaceful.”

“Yes.” She trailed her fingers through the water, creating small whirlpools that quickly dissolved. “Though I might regret this tomorrow. Pretty sure I’m using muscles I forgot existed.”

Emerson chuckled. “We can take a break whenever you want.”

They paddled toward the center of the pond, where a small island of rocks and stunted trees rose from the water.

The mist was thinner here, allowing glimpses of blue sky overhead.

By unspoken agreement, they steered toward it, finding a natural harbor of sorts in a small cove protected by overhanging branches.

Emerson secured the canoe to a protruding root, helping Ava onto the rocky shore.

She wobbled slightly as she stepped out, her hand finding his arm for balance.

The contact was brief but charged with awareness, a reminder of how easy it had been to touch each other just days ago, how complicated it felt now.

They found a flat rock large enough to sit on, spreading a small blanket Emerson had brought from his truck. Ava settled beside him, close but not touching, her gaze on the water stretching before them. The mist was burning off now, the morning sun warming the air around them.

“This was on your mom’s list too?” Emerson asked, passing her a bottle of water from his backpack.

She nodded, taking a sip before answering. “She loved being near water. Said it helped her think clearly. I guess I wanted to see if it would do the same for me.”

“And? Is it working?”

Ava considered the question, her eyes on the gentle movement of the pond’s surface. “I’m not sure yet. My thoughts are still tangled.”

Emerson nodded, not pushing. They sat in silence for a while, watching a pair of ducks glide across the water, leaving twin trails in their wake.

A fish jumped nearby, the splash rippling outward in perfect circles.

The sun climbed higher, burning away the last of the mist and warming their shoulders through their sweaters.

“I’m afraid,” Ava said suddenly, her voice quiet but clear in the still morning. “Of making the wrong choice. Of staying for the wrong reasons or leaving for the wrong reasons. Of waking up one day and realizing I’ve been living someone else’s life.”

Emerson was quiet for a moment, absorbing her words. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. “What does your heart tell you?”

“That’s the problem.” She plucked a small stone from beside the blanket, turning it over in her fingers.

“My heart says different things on different days. Sometimes I look at the shop, at the town, at... at you, and I feel this rightness. Like I belong. Other times, I feel this restlessness, this need to see what else is out there, to find out who I am outside of Millfield.”

She tossed the stone into the water, watching the ripples spread outward. “How do you know which feeling to trust?”

“Maybe both are true,” Emerson suggested. “Maybe you can belong here and still need to explore. Maybe it’s not about either, or but both and and.”

Ava turned to look at him, surprise in her eyes. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, his gaze on the horizon where water met sky. “Just that life isn’t always about clear choices. Sometimes it’s about finding a way to honor different parts of yourself.”

“That sounds wise but not very practical,” she said, a small smile softening her words. “Seattle is three hours away. That’s not exactly a commute.”

“No,” Emerson agreed. “But there might be other solutions. Temporary arrangements. Trial periods. Ways to test the waters without burning bridges.”

The idea hung between them, a possibility neither had fully considered. Ava’s fingers traced patterns on the blanket, her thoughts almost visible in the small furrow between her brows.

“Would you wait?” she asked finally, her voice so quiet he almost didn’t hear it. “If I went to Seattle, if I tried it for a few months... Would you still be here?”

The question caught him off guard, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. It was the heart of what lay unspoken between them, not just her decision to stay or go, but what it meant for whatever was growing between them.

“Yes,” he said simply. “I would wait.”

Ava’s eyes met his, searching for certainty, for truth. “Why?”

“Because what I feel for you isn’t conditional on you staying.” He held her gaze steadily, letting her see the honesty in his words. “It’s not about where you are. It’s about who you are.”

Her expression changed, a softening around the eyes, as there was release of tension she’d been carrying. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Emerson nodded, resisting the urge to reach for her hand, to close the small distance between them on the blanket. “Whatever you decide, Ava, it should be because it’s right for you. Not for your mom’s memory, not for the town, not for me. For you.”