by Lori Ryan
The camera panned out and focused on two men sitting on stools in the corner of the studio. They strummed on acoustic guitars and began to sing a familiar song, “Never Say Goodbye,” by Bon Jovi.
How fitting, Emmett thought with a laugh. He slid open the drawer he’d closed Elle’s journal in and looked at the book.
“Is that Bon Jovi?” his mother called behind him.
Emmett jumped, his hand fumbling with the laptop as he slammed the top shut. He twirled in his seat, not surprised to see her walking into his room. Why the hell hadn’t Max closed the door?
“Dammit, Ma, don’t you knock?”
“Watch your mouth, young man. You’re still in my house,” she teased, walking behind his chair. She glanced over his shoulder and raised the laptop. “Is that Elle?” she asked, sliding into the chair Max had vacated earlier.
“I’m kind of busy here, Ma,” Emmett said.
“Yeah,” she snorted, clicking on the pull-down menu. The history of Elle’s videos rolled down the screen like a red carpet at a Hollywood movie premiere. “It looks like you’re busy. Busy stalking Elle.”
“That’s not true.” Emmett swatted her hand away. “Most of those were Max.”
She raised a brow as if he were seven and holding a broken vase. “Max and you are both stalking poor Elle.” Her brow fell and she laughed. “What’s this one?” She reached over his lap and clicked the video. It began to play and they watched as Elle effortlessly danced around the small studio.
“She’s beautiful,” his mother sighed beside him.
“Yeah,” Emmett said softly.
His mother paused the video and turned toward Emmett. “That’s one of my favorite songs, you know.”
“I know,” Emmett snorted. “It’s Bon Jovi. They could sing ‘Old McDonald Had a Farm’ and it would be your favorite song.”
“True,” she laughed, “but those boys in that video sound good, too.” She nodded toward the screen, “Nobody can sing a Bon Jovi song like Jon though.” She leaned back with an almost theatrical dreamy sigh.
Good, God. “Was that really necessary, Ma?”
She sat straight up. “What?”
“Drooling over Jon Bon Jovi in front of your own son? Leave that sighing for your ladies knitting group.”
She laughed and swatted his shoulder. “I don’t knit.” She didn’t deny she had a pack of women in town to confide in though.
“Speaking of Elle, Maggie and I have a meeting with her and her father tomorrow. Is there a reason Warner Noble has asked Maggie and me to get involved in a situation I thought I asked you to take care of?”
“I think you know, Ma.”
“Refresh my memory. I’m old you know.” She smiled, swiping back a piece of hair from his forehead like he was five.
He swatted her away. “Elle and I have a history.” And that’s absolutely all he was going to say.
“Is this about you sleeping with her in New York?”
“What?” he coughed, nearly falling out of his chair. “How did you know about that?”
She nodded her head toward the hall. “Small town.”
Max. He was going to kill his brother.
“It’s complicated.” Before she could ask more, he held up a hand. “And I am not going to talk about it with my mother.”
She shrugged as if uninterested. “What’s that?” she asked, reaching across him and pointing at Elle’s journal sitting inside his drawer.
Hell, why hadn’t he closed it earlier? He slammed the drawer shut and pushed her hand away. “That’s none of your business either.”
“Let me guess,” she said, tilting her head, “it’s complicated?” she said sarcastically.
It was complicated.
“May I give you some motherly advice?” she asked.
“If I say no, will you leave?”
She snorted. “No, probably not.”
“Go ahead,” he said, pressing against the drawer that held Elle’s journal.
“I lost your father in the blink of an eye, Emmett. One day he was there and the next,” she paused, looking down at her lap.
Emmett swallowed hard.
“Well, the next he was gone,” she said. “I didn’t have a chance to tell him I was sorry for fussing at him about leaving his shoes by the back door. I was always tripping over those damn things.” She laughed and turned toward Emmett. “Now I would give anything to open the door and see his shoes there. I’d jump for joy to trip over his shoes again.”
Emmett sat in silence. He knew how hard his father’s death had hit his mother. They’d been soul mates for almost thirty-five years. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through or how she was surviving without her best friend.
“Building the lodge was my dream come true,” she continued. “Your father gave that to me. And now,” she shook her head, a pinched look that showed the regret on her face, “now I can’t even thank him. I didn’t thank him enough for all he did for me, for my boys.”
“Oh, Ma.” Emmett wrapped his arm around his mother’s shoulder.
She pushed away. “No, I don’t want sympathy, Emmett. I want you to understand how precious every moment we have together is. I don’t know exactly what happened between you two in New York but I do know this. At one point in your life, Elle Noble was the most important thing to you. You both needed each other like,” she waved her hand in front of her, “like air. It was fascinating and frightening to watch as a parent.”
Emmett had always known his connection with Elle transcended the word friendship but he’d never known their relationship had been so transparent to those around them.
“Your father and I often joked that you were one soul split in two.” She smiled. “I would have sworn one of you would never survive without the other.” She stared down at his hand still pressed against his drawer. “But I was wrong.” She lifted her gaze to meet his eyes.
Emmett fought the urge to squirm.
“If Elle is asking to be a part of your life again, if she’s asking for a second chance and you don’t give it to her, I guarantee you one thing, my smart, sweet, handsome boy.” She reached up and touched his cheek. “You will always regret it. And a life filled with even one, single regret can destroy you.”
Her hand slipped away and she slowly rose from the chair. Leaning over him, she reached for the laptop and pressed the play button. Bon Jovi’s song began again as Elle danced around the room. His mother leaned down and whispered in his ear. “The meeting is at two tomorrow in their conference room. Don’t be late.” She kissed his head and without another word danced out of the room, her movements much less graceful than Elle’s, humming Bon Jovi’s song.
“Never say goodbye,” Emmett whispered. The truth was, despite her leaving him twice, he’d never been able to truly let her go. And maybe he never would.
Chapter Eleven
Elle ran over the notes she’d been keeping on her phone while she waited for her green tea at Strange Brew, the local coffee shop. She’d chosen a seat at the back, hoping she would blend into the crowd. It was ski season, so the place was full, but at least a quarter of the occupants lived in Canyon Creek full-time. The chances of someone running into her and wanting to chat were high. Normally, she liked getting out and seeing people. Today, she was on edge and had a feeling she wouldn’t make good company.
Unless that company was Emmett.
She hadn’t heard from him in two days, not since she’d given him her journal. Letting go of that piece of her heart had been hard but he needed to know what she’d been through in her own words. When she’d given him the journal, she believed revealing her most intimate thoughts would help him understand her motives.
Now she was beginning to wonder if she’d made a mistake in trusting him with those thoughts. No, not just thoughts, her journal contained her most intimate feelings, her fears, her anger, her despair, all the turmoil she’d felt when she went through her treatment. There was a huge piece of herself in the pag
es of that journal.
“Hey.”
The deep voice cut through Elle’s thoughts. She would recognize it anywhere.
Looking up, she found Emmett staring down at her, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets. He seemed unsure of what to say next and Elle held his gaze. He was here and that gave her hope.
“Elle,” Lina, called from the counter, holding up a cup. Lina Bianchis’ family owned the local Italian restaurant but for some reason she chose not to be part of the family business. Elle smiled at Lina and stepped over to grab her tea.
Elle returned and noticed Emmett still hovered near the table, as though he wasn’t sure if he could sit.
“Do you want coffee?” she asked.
He shook his head.
Elle glanced out the window, then back at Emmett. “Maybe we could take a walk?”
Emmett nodded. “Yeah, we can do that.”
Elle scooped up her phone, tucking it into her purse then followed him out the door, waving goodbye to Lina.
They walked down Main Street in comfortable silence and Elle clutched her tea, admiring the small town of Canyon Creek.
Several tourists were already out, visiting the local shops and businesses. The store fronts were small, most family owned, and relied on tourism just as much as the resort.
They turned toward Old Settler’s Park, the majestic Canyon Creek Mountain now in full view as the sounds of the creek rang in the distance. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?” she said in reverence.
“You don’t miss New York?”
She lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. “Some days, yes. Some days, no.”
“What about today?”
She shook her head and smiled, turning to face him. “Today? No. I’m glad I’m in Canyon Creek today.”
“Do you think about going back someday? To New York I mean.”
She studied his face, wondering where his questions were coming from. “To visit, but not live permanently, if that’s what you mean.”
“But you said it was hard to leave New York. In your journal.”
He’d read it.
She drew in a deep breath, willing her heartbeat to steady.
“Of course, I miss New York,” she said. “It’s a fabulous city. I had amazing friends and mentors. And the company I danced with was phenomenal. They all taught me so much, about dancing…and life.”
“But?”
What was he really asking? Elle tilted her head at the boy who’d been her best friend almost all her life. He’d grown into a man she didn’t know, but hoped to connect with again someday.
She rubbed her arms to warm herself. It was March and the temperatures were still cold this time of year in Colorado.
Emmett took off his coat, and wrapped it around her shoulders without comment. It was a move he’d made countless times. As always, his jacket swallowed her up. She tugged the edges around her shoulders and snuggled inside, drawing in a deep breath, wrapped in his familiar scent. Suddenly she felt safe and secure, as if she were physically in his arms.
“Come on,” Elle nodded toward the swing set, slipping her hand into Emmett’s in a gesture that felt natural. She held her breath for a split second, praying he wouldn’t pull away or refuse to go with her.
Instead, he squeezed her hand.
She began to breathe again as they took their spots on the playground, her in one swing, him next to her, their hands still connected as the swings moved back in forth in a synchronized motion that soothed Elle. For the first time in a long time, she truly felt at peace.
“Hot chocolate?” Emmett asked, nodding toward her cup. Being with Elle made it hard to think, hard to breathe.
She used to have the opposite effect on him. There was a time he felt more relaxed with her than anyone in the world. Now, there was tension between them and he hated it. At least he had her hand.
Elle shook her head. “Green tea.”
Emmett feigned a shocked look. “Tell me you haven’t had to give up hot chocolate.”
She laughed at his playful gesture and shook her head. “No matter what my prognosis, I refuse to give up chocolate. I did have to have the resort start offering the hot cocoa made with almond milk instead of cow’s milk, but no one had an issue with it. Alternative offerings are all the rage nowadays.”
She didn’t have to tell Emmett about the signature hot chocolate at the resort. He was surprised her family had allowed any changes to the old family recipe, but then again, he guessed they’d do anything to make Elle happy. And healthy.
He knew the feeling.
Elle blew on her tea and he’d be damned if he could keep his eyes off the small oh shape of her puckered lips.
God, her lips. He loved how full and round and—
He released her hand and held on to the chain of the swing for balance.
“They’re predicting snow later tonight,” she said.
“What?” he choked out, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.
She glanced over at him, her brows furrowed, staring at him like he was crazy.
Maybe he was.
“Snow,” she repeated. “I can’t wait. I love the snow.” She smiled and stared off at the mountain, the peak visible from their seat on the swings.
“Yeah,” Emmett leaned back in his seat, “you always did.” He gazed up at the sky.
Dark clouds had rolled in, much like his mood.
He’d read Elle’s entire journal. The diary had chronicled her journey through diagnosis and treatment of her cancer. Emmett had wondered numerous times how she’d made it through. Realizing he hadn’t been there pained him. If possible, as he read, Emmett found himself falling more in love with Elle Noble than ever, the traces of bitterness and anger slowly dissipating. But he’d been left with a heartache he couldn’t explain.
Where did he even start? Drawing in a deep breath of freezing air, he turned toward Elle and steadied himself.
“You read my journal?” she asked before he could speak, staring down at her cup.
“Yes,” he finally answered. He turned from her, afraid of what he might find in her eyes, and stared at the mountain ahead. It seemed neither could look at the other. He watched the tiny dots he knew were skiers traversing the slopes. Some of the runs on Canyon Creek Mountain were among the most challenging Colorado had to offer. Still, tourism was down all over Colorado, so their town suffered despite its draws.
“And?” Elle said quietly.
Unable to keep from looking at her, he turned.
She was staring back, her blue eyes wide, her expression guarded. The look broke his heart.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Her head tilted to the side and she frowned. “For what?”
“For not being there for you. For making you feel worse than you already do.”
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Emmett. I shouldn’t have left you, well, not without telling you why. It’s just, I was so confused and scared and—”
Emmett reached out and grabbed the chains of her swing, turning her to face him before pulling her close. “I don’t want to worry about blame, Elle. It doesn’t matter. We’ve lost a lot of time, time we could have had being together, supporting one another.”
Her eyes darted between his, her expression just as bewildered as his. What was he saying?
“Listen,” he breathed, releasing her swing and moving back. He needed space between them to keep his mind from turning to mush. “I can’t go back to where we were in New York.” He looked at her and shook his head. He couldn’t put his heart out there again the way he had with her that night. “But I can be your friend. I think we can be that to each other again, don’t you?”
She nodded and smiled.
The truth was, not having her as a friend had left a huge hole in him he hadn’t realized had been there. Emmett didn’t want to keep feeling this way anymore. And if her smile was any indication, neither did she.
“I’ve mis
sed you, Els” he said. There was so much more he could say, probably should say, but he didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling, or if he should.
“I wanted to tell you,” she said. “So many times. But, I just couldn’t put that on you.”
Emmett felt a knot of frustration tighten in his gut but worked hard to ignore the feeling. It was strange, wanting to comfort her but also wanting to scream in exasperation.
Elle had purposely kept something from him—no that wasn’t right, it wasn’t something she’d kept from him, it was herself. She’d kept herself from him. She’d taken away his choice to be there when she needed him the most. And he knew she’d needed him. Her journal had said as much. There had been entries when she was clearly struggling even to write and she’d cried for him, cried because she needed him and couldn’t have him.
“Els,” he said, taking a deep breath, “I understand why you think you needed to protect me, but you need to know, there’s always going to be a part of me that’s disappointed in you for that. You took the choice away from me. Hell,” he shook his head, “that’s not even the right word. There wouldn’t have been a choice for me. I would have been there for you without a doubt, had I known. It wouldn’t have been possible for me to walk away. Knowing you went through that alone kills me.”
She nodded. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
They sat in silence for a while, each reflective of the choices they’d made and the consequences that followed.
“I missed having you to talk to,” Emmett finally said. “When I signed that first publishing deal, I was so scared. I didn’t know what to do. Having you around to talk to would have helped,” he said. He wanted to take her hand, grip it tight, but he held back.
“But you’re a fabulous writer, Emmett. I’m not surprised at all you got signed. And look at you now.” Her face lit with pride. “You’re a bestselling author.”