Worth The Risk: A Silverthorne Is For Lovers Novel

Winnie

Ifeel like I’ve been hit by a truck…and that’s coming from someone who was actually hit by a truck once. It was just backing up in a parking lot and I should have been paying better attention but still, it knocked me over. This though, this felt like my bones had bruises and those bruises had bruises. I left work this morning because I could feel the beginnings of migraine coming on. I had already made most of the pastries for the day so I felt confident in leaving Anna to man the register and then close early. I barely made it home before it hit in full force. I changed into my most comfortable pajamas and lay on the couch in my living room with a cool wash cloth covering my eyes for the rest of the day.

When I finally checked the time it was 6:30pm and there was a thunderstorm rolling in. I called Mare and she told me she would come over if I needed her to. I don’t like to ask anyone to take care of me. I get migraines once a month, sometimes more. I think it’s caused by my anxiety and it’s been creeping to a higher level lately. I have been instructed to take a pain reliever and call her if I get any worse. I don’t think I could possibly feel worse. My eyes were watery and my face was flushed. My hair was in a bun on top of my head and I was sweaty…then cold…then sweaty and cold. Miserable. At least I had a valid excuse for avoiding Rhett now.

He had called and texted a few times and even came by the bakery. I knew it was only a matter of time before I ran into him but I just wasn’t quite ready for the conversation that no doubt would end in Rhett wanting something I wasn’t sure I was willing to give him and my heart still somehow ending up broken. No, putting it off as long as possible was for the best, not the best for my anxiety, but for my heart. It didn’t matter how much time passed, I was still a moth to his flame. A moth that had pined for the flame for over 15 years even though the flame had shown interest in the moth, but the moth was afraid that the flame would get tired of it’s emotional baggage and leave.

Yes, I was still that moth. I let out a groan from the physical pain I was feeling but also the emotional turmoil I kept putting myself in.

I peel myself off the couch and walk into the kitchen in search of the bottle of ExcedrinPM I know I have in the cupboard. Maybe I can just sleep this thing off and maybe I could sleep through the storm, too. Thunderstorms still make me anxious. Not near as bad as those first few years after my parents died, but it still gives me a bad feeling. They were driving home from date night, just like they did every week. Colt and I ordered pizza and watched a movie. Since he had turned 15 the winter before we stopped getting a sitter. It was just me and him there when mom’s sister, Aunt Sarah, showed up and said we had to get to the hospital right away. It had been storming that night, too. I feel physically ill thinking about how much of a brat I had been.

I think I used to like storms, the thunder sounding in the distance and rain spattering on our roof. I think I used to like that, but I can’t really remember. It’s been too long since I found any of the things that accompany a storm comforting.

I think my medicine is starting to kick in because I’m starting to feel a little fuzzy. My mind wanders back to Rhett as it does most days…more so now that he’s back in town and messing with my head. It was so much easier when he was away. It’s really not fair. I’m going to have to watch him find a woman he wants to marry, move her into the big beautiful house he just bought, be a fantastic husband to her, have babies with her.

Oh, God…I’m going to have to move aren’t I? But I love my house. There’s still so much I want to fix about it but I love my little house. It’s the first thing I’ve had that was just mine. Something physical to show for all my hard work over the years. I don’t want to give it up but I’m not sure what else to do.

My head is pounding still. It feels like someone is knocking from inside my head. I can feel the vibrations. I hear knocking and then my name, I giggle at that. Now they’re even calling my name. I think I can hear a doorbell. Wait, was that my doorbell?

“Winnie! Open up! I know you’re in there and I really need to talk to you.” Huh? I open my eyes and look around my living room. Knocking again.

“I can wait here all night if I have to but it’s starting to rain so I’d rather come in!” Is that Rhett? Oh, jeeze…why is he here? I’m really not up for a heart to heart right now. I stand and get a head rush.

“Hold on, I’m coming. Please quit knocking.” I sound as awful as I feel, I try to speak loud enough for him to hear me, but I can’t force my voice any louder. I unlock the bolt and sliding chain and open the door and let out a whine. There standing on my porch in the rain, is Rhett Holloway looking like he belongs on the cover of a magazine, which he has been on the cover of plenty of magazines and hockey calendars. Just another inadequacy between us. One other being the walls I’ve built around my heart and his open borders.

“What are you doing here, Rhett?”

“Jeezes, Winnie. You look awful—well you’re always beautiful but you look sick.”

“Did you come here to charm my pants off? Because the insults are really working for me.” That gets me an eye roll.

“When Anna told me you were sick this morning I thought it was another excuse. What’s wrong?” So he had noticed…

“Headache,” I say as blandly as possible.

“It seems like more than a headache, Winnie.” He retorts. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I give him a confused look.

“Why would I tell you?”

“Well for one, I’ve been calling and texting and was starting to think you must be ignoring me…” He gives me a very pointed look. “…but also because someone should be taking care of you.”

“I’m fine, Rhett. I can take care of myself.”

“It’s not that I don’t think you can, darlin’. I just don’t want you to have to.” Darlin’. Hearing him say that sparks a memory. Honeybee had been my nickname since I was 13, but Darlin’, he only started calling me that after he kissed me at the lake eight years ago.

“Why are you calling me that?” I snap and he sighs.

“Would you just let me in? It’s raining and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Uhhhg…fine.” I open the door all the way and steps into my home. He looks around and surveys my cramped space.

“I like it. It’s very you.”

“Messy and in need of some work?”

“I was going to say warm and beautiful.” My face heats. “You’ve done a great job with renovations.” I wasn’t expecting that.

“Thank you. I still have a ways to go, but it’s getting there.”

“Why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll get you something to eat.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m not that hungry.”

“Fine. Let’s just sit on the couch and I’ll find us something to watch while you rest.” He plops onto my couch and grabs the TV remote from the arm.

“You want to stay?”

“Yes, if that’s alright.”

“I guess so…but why do you want to stay?”

“Is it so hard to believe that I want to spend time with you?”

“No, I’m charming and incredibly funny—” He smiles at that. “—but right now my head feels like there”s something inside of it, pulsing before it finally explodes.” His brows pull together and he starts studying me.

“Winnie, you look exhausted—just come sit by me and rest for a bit.” I am exhausted. I’m barely staying upright so I relent.

“Fine.” I take the few steps until I’m standing in front of him and he pats the seat next to him and smiles.

“I won’t bite Winnie…not unless you ask nicely.” He throws me a wink and I snort at that, then wince at the painful action, but sit next to him. He immediately puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him so I’m tucked into his side, head resting on his chest. I instantly relax into him.

“Dragonfly? Playboy Bunny? Angel wings?”

“What?”

“The cover up.” Is all he says. I try not to laugh because the pain in my head is already too intense.

“Nope. None of those.”

“I’ll figure it out. Now, what should I watch?” I have been here before with him many times, Rhett is an amazing cuddler—I feel safe with him. That’s kind of the problem.

“You can always watch a cooking show, or catch up on The Bachelor first hand.” I smile knowing he’s pretty caught up because of our conversation the other night.

“You can pick whatever you want, though. I have all the hockey channels.”

“Why do you have all of those?” There’s teasing in his tone. He knows why. Because I’ve watched every single one of his games. Even when I was heartbroken after having gone to see him that last time. I decide to tease him back.

“Maybe I have a thing for hockey players. Some of those guys are unbelievably hot, Rhett.” I talk as quietly as I can. I want to talk to him, but the pounding in my head won’t subside.

“Which guys?” I smile because he sounds jealous again.

“Oh there’s the defensemen that plays for San Francisco…the center for Vancouver…oh and the goalie for Dallas…I have a list…”

“A list, huh? And how long is this thing?”

“Oh, last time I checked there was maybe 30, 35 names on it…? That’s just a ballpark.” He runs his hand over my arm in soothing circles, his fingers trailing up and down. He moves up to my neck and gently massages. I’m melting.

“Yeah? That many? And where am I on this list?” I know what he’s doing.

“Who says you’re on it, Holloway?” I barely get it out without moaning when the pressure he applies to either side of my neck increases.

“Ouch.” He stops massaging me and grabs at his chest in mock pain. “You’re telling me not only did I not make top 5 but I didn’t even make the list at all?”

“I know it’s a huge blow to that ego of yours, but no. I’m sorry. You are not on my fantasy hockey league roster…” He looks at me seriously then.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been more disappointed to not make a team in my life.” My laughter sputters out of me at that and I whimper.

“Uhg, don’t make me laugh. It hurts and I know for a fact that’s a lie.”

“Sorry.” He starts massaging my neck again. “And nope, this is it.” I scoff.

“What about first round draft picks your freshmen year?” I open my eyes to look up at him and find him already looking at me. He is really playing this up for me. He genuinely looks like he’s contemplating. I pinch his leg.

“Okay, that was a rough one. I’ll admit.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“…but…” Oh here we go. “Not making the cut on a list or team of yours that has the word ‘fantasy’ in the title is worse than not making any other team I can think of.” I roll my eyes.

“Always the charmer.” He chuckles beside me.

“Only for you, honeybee.”

I clear my throat not wanting to give weight to his words any more. I’ve had enough of the flirting that can’t go anywhere with him. I fake a yawn which turns into a real one and then go to stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m getting ready to start Chopped,” He says holding up the remote.

“I just need to get a glass of water.” What I really need is some separation.

“I’ll get it. You need to rest.” He lays me back into the couch before getting up. I hear him in the kitchen opening cabinets, trying to find a glass, the sound of distant thunder is like a backtrack. I don’t even realize I’ve shut my eyes until I feel an arm slip under my knees and another wrap around my back. I’m cold but feeling sticky. Uhhgg and my head is hurting again. I’m swaying and then floating before landing on a soft surface. Mmm…that’s nice. A cool hand touches my forehead and I hear mumbling but my eyelids are simply too heavy to be bothered to open. I feel something else touch my forehead and then my name.

“Winnie, you need to take a drink of this water for me.”

“Uhhggdonwanta…”

“I know you don’t want to, darlin’, but you need to.”

“Uhhhggg…” I lean up, with a hand supporting the back of my neck and feel the cool hard rounded edge of a glass, I drink three gulps of water.

“Did you get enough?” I try to nod.

“Mhmm…” I’m gently lowered back to the pillow and covered with blankets. What a strange feeling this is. I don’t remember the last time I was this taken care of or felt this safe especially with thunder rumbling the walls of my little cottage and rain pouring down. I don’t want to be alone anymore. I want him to stay, but I won’t ask. I want him, but I won’t tell him that. I’m thinking about how lucky that fictitious wife of his is going to be and then how I really will have to move when that happens. I won’t be able to handle it. Those are the medicine induced thoughts that pull me under and into a surprisingly dreamless sleep.