Chapter fifteen
Emma
Bryan’s truck rumbles down the quiet Ocean Bay Road, the hum of the tires blend with the faint crackle of the radio. Buddy’s snout juts out the passenger window, tongue lolling as the salty breeze ruffles his fur. Bryan tosses him a biscuit from the bag resting between us, humming off-key to some country song he probably doesn’t even know the lyrics to.
I shake my head, amused. “You’re gonna turn him into a menace.” Bryan grins, eyes still on the road. “He’s already a menace. Might as well feed into it.”
Buddy lets out a happy bark, tail thumping against the door. I reach out and scratch behind his ears, my heart warming at his blissful expression.
The truck smells faintly of Bryan’s signature scent that I shouldn’t be so hyper-aware of. But after weeks of living together, of him softening toward me, of this truce we seem to have settled into, it’s harder to ignore.
I lean back against the seat, forcing myself to focus on the grocery list crumpled on the dash. Eggs. Coffee. Milk. Dog treats. Simple enough. I was surprised when Bryan had offered to take me to the grocery store when my car refused to start. In his words it's a death trap and I shouldn't be driving it. If only everything else in my life felt this manageable.
The weight of my clinic plans presses at the edges of my mind. The site permits, the equipment costs, the meetings with vendors, there’s still so much to do. And then there’s the debt, with only an extra few days to pay it down. This was after so much pleading.
I push the thought aside. One thing at a time.
Bryan nudges the air vent, adjusting the flow, and his arm brushes against mine. A brief, unintentional touch, his calloused skin grazing my forearm, the warmth of him too close, too steady. My breath catches before I can stop it, a tiny hitch in my throat that I pray he doesn’t notice.
He doesn’t, thankfully, just keeps humming, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. I tell myself it’s nothing. Just proximity. Just habit. Just Bryan.
“You’re quiet,” he says after a beat, flicking his gaze toward me. “Thinking up a battle plan for the store?”
I smirk, grateful for the distraction. “More like preparing for war. I know that grocery shopping with you and Buddy is a disaster waiting to happen.”
He chuckles, low and easy. “You act like we don’t have self-control.”
I arch a brow. “Buddy’s about to take over the pet aisle, and you’ll somehow end up buying things that aren’t even on the list.”
Bryan feigns offense, pressing a hand to his chest and says: “You wound me, Em.”
Em .
It’s the first time he’s said it in years. The casual way it slips out makes my heart trip over itself, a rush of warmth floods through me before I can stop it.
He doesn’t even seem to realize. Or maybe he does, because he clears his throat a second later, shifting in his seat.
Just friends, I remind myself. We’re just friends. My mind drifts back to his kisses, none of them felt like we were friends. The burning, the passion even though each kiss was just a minute or less.
Still, I can’t ignore the shift in him. The way he’s different from the man who first moved into that house with me cold, distant, pushing me away at every turn. This Bryan cares. He shows up. He doesn’t just tolerate my presence anymore, he’s in this.
He proves it again when he says, almost casually, “Got Liam making a supply run for your clinic.”
My head whips toward him. “What?”
Bryan shrugs like it’s not a big deal. “You mentioned needing stuff, so I called in a favor or two. Figured it’d help.”
The words hit somewhere deep, unexpected. My throat tightens. He thought about it. About me. He didn’t have to. But he did.
“Bryan…” I don’t know what to say.
He glances over, reading me too easily. “Don’t make it a thing, Em.” He pauses. “I just want to see you win.”
And just like that, my guard wobbles. I’ve spent so much time keeping a safe distance, reminding myself why I shouldn’t fall into this again. But the way he’s looking at me now, like he means it, like my dream matters to him makes it harder to hold the line.
I swallow past the sudden lump in my throat. “Thanks.”
He nods, like it’s nothing. Like it doesn’t mean everything. The tension eases as he pulls into the lot, parking near the entrance.
We finish getting all the groceries on the list. “Mall next?” he asks as he kills the engine, glancing toward Buddy, whose tail is already wagging at the sight of movement. “Figured we’d let him run wild in his kingdom.”
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “Let’s survive this first.”
Bryan grins, stepping out of the truck. “No promises.”
And as I follow him into the mall, I realize my own resolve is starting to waver because staying away from him is getting harder by the second.
The hum of Ocean Bay Mall wraps around me, a mix of chatter, clinking shopping carts, and the faint scent of cinnamon from the bakery down the hall. The pet store’s bright overhead lights shine down on shelves stacked high with treats, leashes, and enough chew toys to keep Buddy entertained for a lifetime.
Not that he needs help in that department. I tighten my grip on his leash as he tugs forward, sniffing at a row of gourmet dog biscuits like he’s some kind of connoisseur. Bryan, of course, encourages the mischief.
“Buddy, my man, you’ve got great taste,” he says, tossing a massive bone into the cart with an exaggerated flourish. “We’re going all out. Feast of kings.”
I snort, shaking my head as I grab a bag of kibble, mentally tallying the cost against the clinic funds. Strictly for the clinic. The debt is mine to figure out, but this? This is what I worked for.
“Hope you plan on paying for that ‘feast,’ you’re piling up for your good ‘ole boy” I mutter, scanning a few more items he’s tossing in for Buddy.
Bryan smirks. “You think I’d skimp on my boy?” He scratches behind Buddy’s ears, the affection in the simple act making something warm unfurl in my chest. It’s effortless for him, that mix of teasing and genuine care. The kind of guy I fell for once.
I push the thought down, turning my focus to the shelves in front of me. But from the other side of the aisle, I hear it. A whisper. A low murmur.
“Bryan and Emma,” Mrs. Carter’s familiar voice carries softly, but not softly enough. “They’re just meant to be, aren’t they?”
Jen hums in agreement. “Perfect pair. Always were.”
Perfect pair?
Heat floods my face, a nervous flutter kicking up in my chest. My fingers tighten around the shopping cart handle as the words settle, unwanted … yet not entirely unpleasant. Meant to be . The thought shouldn’t affect me, not after everything, not when I’ve spent weeks reinforcing the wall between us.
But suddenly, that wall doesn’t feel so sturdy. Bryan, completely unaware of my spiralling, grabs a rubber ball and tosses it toward Buddy. “Catch, Bud!”
Buddy leaps, snatching the toy mid-air, tail wagging wildly. Bryan grins, full and easy, and something in my stomach twists. Oh, that smile.
It’s the same one he used to throw at me when we were teenagers, the one that always made me feel like the sun itself had turned in my direction. The kind of grin that disarmed, that made me believe. And I realize, with a quiet kind of panic, that I still feel it.
I try to shake it off, turning back to the cart, eyes down. Think about something else. Think about the clinic. But Bryan kneels beside Buddy, rubbing at his ears, laughing when the dog immediately licks his hand in return.
“Aw, come on, man.” He groans, wiping his hand on his jeans. “Could you at least have given me a warning?”
I should ignore it. I should focus on anything but the way his touch is so gentle, so effortlessly warm, like the same boy I once knew. The same boy who had once kissed me on the back porch of my grandmother’s house and promised me the world.
I swallow hard. He’s not that boy anymore. And I’m not that girl. But there’s no denying it, the pull is still there. And it terrifies me.
I start to take a step back, needing air, needing distance, but then Jen’s voice rings out from behind us. “You two are a picture perfect!”
Bryan chuckles, glancing up at her with an easy smirk. “Buddy’s the star here,” he quips, rubbing the dog’s head again.
But me? My throat tightens. Because it’s not just Buddy they’re talking about.
I force out a laugh, trying to brush it off, but my heart’s still hammering as I grab the leash and start toward the checkout.
Bryan catches up, his gaze flicking toward me. “Are you okay?”
I nod too quickly. “Fine. Just… ready to go.” He doesn’t push, but I can feel his curiosity. The way his eyes linger. Like he knows something shifted.
And maybe, just maybe, he’s right.
***
I manage to get through the rest of the week without any major discussions with Bryan, both of us wrapped up in our own business world needs. The lamp flickers, casting long shadows across my bedroom walls. It smells like lavender and old paper in here; the quilt bunched around my legs keeping me warm against the cool ocean air drifting through the window. Buddy lets out a soft snore at my feet, twitching in his sleep, his paws kicking like he’s chasing something in his dreams.
It does still make me smile that Buddy choses my room for his overnight sleeps. When I tease Bryan about it, he is so nonchalant. He won’t give me the satisfaction of even considering looking sad or childishly envious. No, he just tells me he sends him in to protect me .
Right. Sure.
I run a finger over the scattered notes on my bed, clinic budgets, estimates, sponsorship breakdowns all marked with quick, neat scribbles. $5,000. The number sits heavy in my mind, a constant reminder that no matter how much I try to move forward, some things still have a hold on me.
Sighing, I shove the papers aside and reach for a worn leather-bound book half-buried under the stack. Grandma’s journal. The edges are soft from years of handling, the spine loose, the pages yellowed with time.
I don't know why I suddenly feel the need to open it now, but something about today, about Bryan’s laughter in the mall, the way his presence feels less like an ache and more like something steady, has me flipping through the pages.
I skim over old entries, weather notes, garden updates, town gossip until one catches my eye. The date punches the air from my lungs. The day I left town.
My hands tighten on the book, my breath catching. The ink is slightly smudged, like she wrote it in a hurry or with shaking hands.
“I see it, clear as the tide coming in, those two are stitched together, no matter how much time and space stretch between them. Emma’s leaving and my heart aches, but I know this isn’t the end. Bryan’s too much a part of her. Maybe time will teach them what I couldn’t.”
I swallow hard. She knew.
My fingers tremble as I trace the words. She saw it even when I couldn’t when I told myself leaving was for the best, when I spent years convincing myself he’d forget, move on. But Bryan hadn’t been the only one left behind. She had waited for me to come back. She had hoped. And now…
My mind flashes back to today … Bryan’s easy grin as he teased Buddy, the way he glanced at me like he was memorizing something he hadn’t let himself look at in a long time. The way his
And worst of all, the way it felt like home again. I press the journal to my chest, heart racing. Is that what she wanted? For us to find our way back? Something cracks inside me, splintering through the walls I’ve built since coming home.
Because she’s right. He is a part of me. And no matter how much I fight it, I feel it every time I catch his scent of that unmistakeable cedar, every time I catch him watching me like he’s trying to understand this pull just as much as I am.
But what if I let myself believe in this and it all falls apart? The debt still lingers, a shadow curling around the edges of my thoughts, keeping me tethered to reality. There’s not much left for personal spending. Not much left for me. The clinic needs to come first. My future must come first.
But… what if he’s part of it? My phone dings, shattering my thoughts. My stomach lurches as I grab it off the nightstand, pulse hammering in my ears. Another debt text? Another reminder of what’s still holding me down?
I fumble with the screen, but it stays dark. My fingers tighten around the phone just as a knock sounds at the door.
“Emma?” Bryan’s voice. Low. Steady. Close.
I freeze; the journal still pressed against me. Do I open the door? I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my heartbeat to slow.
Because I know, if I do, if I let him in even an inch more, there’s no turning back.