Small Town, Big Hope

Chapter8

After the game, Jackson offered to take the boys out for dinner.

Emma didn’t argue.

Part of her wanted to go. Not because she wanted to spend any more time with Jackson, but because she had gotten so used to being wherever the boys were that watching them leave without her still felt strange.

But this was their time with their dad.

And she wasn’t going to intrude on it.

So while Jackson loaded two sweaty, dirt-covered, overly excited boys into his truck, Emma hugged them goodbye and headed home to a house that suddenly felt entirely too quiet.

She made it approximately twelve minutes before deciding she hated it.

She pulled out her phone and sent a text.

Emma: Emergency girls’ night? I have wine, popcorn, and Frozen.

Kinsley responded almost immediately.

Kinsley: You had me at wine.

A second message popped up.

Kinsley: You lost me at Frozen.

Emma laughed.

Emma: Josie gets to pick the movie.

Kinsley: Then Frozen it is. Be there in twenty.

Twenty-five minutes later, Kinsley walked through the front door carrying a bottle of wine in one hand while Josie came barreling in behind her wearing sparkly purple pajamas and clutching a blanket under one arm.

“Aunt Emma!” Josie yelled.

Emma barely had time to bend down before the little girl wrapped both arms around her.

“Well, hello to you too.”

“We’re watching Frozen!”

“So I’ve been informed.”

Kinsley kicked the door shut behind her. “She’s been singing Let It Go since we left the house. I just want you to know what you’ve done.”

“I accept full responsibility.”

Emma grabbed glasses from the kitchen while Josie made herself comfortable in the middle of the living room floor.

It felt completely different without the boys there.

No Christian throwing himself across the couch.

No Luke complaining that someone was chewing too loudly.

No arguing over what they were watching.

Especially because there was absolutely no chance either of her sons would have willingly sat through Frozen.

According to Christian, princess movies were for girls.

According to Luke, they were “predictable and unrealistic.”

Emma personally thought that was rich coming from a child who could spend three hours discussing superheroes.

But apparently superheroes were completely different.

Because they were men.

And her boys were, naturally, very manly.

Emma smiled to herself as she carried the popcorn into the living room.

Josie had already claimed the best spot on the couch.

Kinsley took the wineglass Emma offered her and narrowed her eyes.

“What?”

“That smile.”

“What smile?”

“The one you get when you’re thinking about those boys.”

Emma sat down beside her. “I miss them.”

“They’ve been gone twenty-five minutes.”

“I know.”

Kinsley stared at her.

Emma sighed. “Fine. I have issues.”

“That’s why I’m here.”

“For emotional support?”

“No. For wine and unsolicited opinions.”

Emma laughed, but Kinsley continued watching her.

The smile slowly faded from Emma’s face.

“You’re thinking about Jackson.”

Emma looked toward the television where Josie was completely absorbed in the opening scene.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Kinsley.”

“I saw you two at the game.”

Emma reached for her wine.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I didn’t say it did.”

“You were about to.”

“I was about to say that for two people who claim they’re completely over each other, you sure know exactly how to get under each other’s skin.”

Emma took a long sip.

That was the problem.

Jackson still knew her.

He knew exactly which buttons to push, which comments would hurt, and which look could make her feel like she was twenty-five again, standing in their first tiny kitchen wondering how the man she loved could make her feel so alone.

And worse than that—

she still knew him too.

“I don’t want to fight with him,” Emma said quietly. “Especially in front of the boys.”

Kinsley’s expression softened.

“I know.”

“I just wish he understood that I’m not trying to keep them from him.”

“Does he really think that?”

Emma stared down at her glass.

“I think Jackson thinks I woke up one morning and decided to blow up our family.”

“And did you?”

Emma looked at her.

Kinsley raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

“Then stop carrying all the guilt like you did.”

Emma swallowed.

Across the room, Josie suddenly threw both hands into the air.

“This is the good part!”

Both women looked toward the television.

Kinsley leaned closer to Emma and whispered, “Saved by Elsa.”

Emma smiled.

“For now.”

Because she knew eventually she and Jackson were going to have to talk.

Not argue.

Not blame each other.

Actually talk.

About Christian.

About Luke.

About Hickory Ridge.

And about how they were supposed to raise two boys together when they still hadn’t figured out how to be in the same room without reopening wounds neither of them wanted to admit were still there.

Kinsley and Josie were the best distraction Emma could have asked for.

Sitting on the couch with a glass of wine in her hand, listening to Josie sing every word of Frozen with absolutely no concern for whether she was actually on key, Emma realized how long it had been since she’d had a night like this.

More than that, she realized how long it had been since she’d had a friend like Kinsley.

She’d had friends over the years, of course. Women from work. Other moms. People she could grab lunch with or exchange texts with every few weeks.

But somewhere along the way, friendships had become exhausting.

Especially after Luke’s diagnosis.

There were always explanations.

Luke doesn’t like loud restaurants.

Luke needs to know the plan before we get there.

No, he’s not being rude. He just doesn’t always know when someone is talking to him.

We may have to leave early.

Please don’t touch him if he’s already overwhelmed.

He isn’t throwing a tantrum. He’s overloaded.

Eventually, Emma had gotten tired of explaining.

Tired of the looks.

Tired of apologizing when Luke needed something different.

Tired of feeling like she had to give everyone a crash course on her son before they could simply spend time with him.

So she stopped trying as hard.

It was easier that way.

If she didn’t make plans, she didn’t have to cancel them.

If she didn’t take Luke somewhere that might overwhelm him, she didn’t have to explain why they had to leave ten minutes after arriving.

And if she kept most people at arm’s length, she never had to wonder whether an invitation included Luke—or whether people were secretly hoping she’d find a babysitter.

Kinsley was different.

Emma hadn’t needed to explain Luke to her.

She hadn’t needed to apologize for him.

Kinsley simply paid attention.

She noticed when he covered his ears. She gave him space when he needed it. She didn’t take it personally when he disappeared into his room halfway through a conversation. She learned that if plans changed, Luke needed a warning whenever possible.

And somehow, she did all of it without making Emma feel like her family was difficult.

That meant more to Emma than Kinsley probably realized.

“You’re staring at me,” Kinsley said, bringing her wineglass to her lips.

Emma blinked. “I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

Emma smiled. “I was just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Very.”

Kinsley grinned and turned her attention back to the movie.

Emma did too, but the warmth in her chest stayed.

Maybe Hickory Ridge wasn’t only going to be good for the boys.

Maybe, somewhere between the little house she was slowly making their own, baseball games, new friendships, and impromptu Disney movie nights, there was room for Emma to build a life here too.

Not just as Luke and Christian’s mom.

Not as Jackson’s ex-wife.

Just Emma.

She’d almost forgotten who that woman was.

It was easy to lose yourself when you became part of something bigger than yourself.

First, she became a wife.

Then she became a mother.

And somewhere between packing lunches, folding tiny clothes, baseball practices, doctor’s appointments, therapy sessions, school meetings, grocery lists, and trying to hold a marriage together, Emma had slowly stopped being Emma.

She became Mom.

She became Jackson’s wife.

She became Luke’s advocate.

She became the keeper of schedules, the finder of missing shoes, the one who remembered which foods Christian suddenly refused to eat and which sounds could send Luke searching for the nearest quiet room.

She became the person everyone else needed her to be.

And she loved those people.

God, she loved them.

She wouldn’t trade being Luke and Christian’s mother for anything in this world.

But she couldn’t remember the last time someone had asked her what she liked.

Worse, she wasn’t sure she would know how to answer if they did.

What did Emma like?

Not what the boys liked.

Not what Jackson liked.

Not what was easiest or cheapest or worked best for everyone else.

Her.

The question felt strangely foreign.

Maybe that was part of what this move was supposed to be.

She’d thought coming to Hickory Ridge was about giving the boys a fresh start. A quieter life. A place where Luke could breathe and Christian could run barefoot through the yard until the sun went down.

Maybe Emma needed a fresh start too.

Not to become the woman she had been before Jackson or before the boys. She didn’t want to go backward.

That woman hadn’t known Luke’s laugh or Christian’s crooked grin. She hadn’t known how fiercely she could love someone or how strong she could become when two little boys depended on her.

She didn’t want the old Emma back.

She wanted to figure out who this Emma was.

The mother.

The woman.

The friend.

Maybe someday, even the woman who could fall in love again.

All of her.

For the first time in a long time, Emma wondered what her life might look like if there was room for all of those pieces to exist at once.