Chapter 4
4
DALLAS
The nightclub was in full swing, its pulsing music and neon lights creating a chaotic symphony that matched my internal turmoil. My office, usually a sanctuary from the club’s frenzy, feels more like a pressure cooker. I’m buried in paperwork, trying to juggle the night’s schedule, when Calli bursts in, her face tight with concern.
I barely look up from the spreadsheets in front of me. “What is it now, Calli?”
“Dallas, I need to talk to you about Willow,” she starts. “She won’t be able to come in tonight. She had an emergency.”
My patience snaps. “I’m tired of this, Calli! Get her ass into work. I’m fed up with her incompetence. This is the second time this month she’s bailed on us!”
Calli’s eyes flash with anger, and she squares her shoulders. “You’re a terrible person, Dallas. Willow is at the hospital with her daughter, who is very sick. How can you be mad about that?”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. "Her daughter?" I echoed, the shock clear in my voice. "Willow has a child?"
"Yes, she does, and Juniper is seriously ill right now. Willow doesn't need bullshit from you," Calli snapped, crossing her arms defiantly.
The room seems to spin as I process this new information. The weight of it presses down on me like a lead blanket. Juniper, sick? My mind races with questions and guilt. Without another word, I storm out of the office, my footsteps echoing in the hallway. Calli stares after me, a mix of confusion and anger in her eyes, her posture rigid with defiance. As the door slams shut behind me, the reality of the situation hits me full force, leaving me reeling and breathless. Willow is a mom .
The drive to the hospital is a blur, my knuckles white as I grip the steering wheel. Each red light feels like an eternity, my impatience growing with every passing second. My thoughts race, tangled with memories of every harsh word I’ve ever tossed at Willow. How could I be so oblivious to her situation? The guilt gnaws at me, each mile stretching the tension tighter until it feels like a taut wire ready to snap.
When I finally pull into the hospital parking lot, I barely register the lines on the asphalt as I haphazardly parked the car. The sterile smell of disinfectant and the hum of fluorescent lights greet me as I enter, a stark contrast to the pulsing, chaotic atmosphere of the club.
It doesn’t take long to find them. Through the small window of a private room, I see Willow slumped over the bed, her head resting on the edge, and a small girl with dark hair sleeping beside her. The sight tugs at something deep within me.
As I enter the room quietly, trying not to wake them, Juniper’s eyes flutter open. She looks at me with a mix of curiosity and fear.
“Are you here to take me away?” she asks, her voice barely a whisper but enough to stir Willow.
Willow wakes with a start, her eyes widening as she sees me standing there.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demands, her voice filled with fury. She quickly stands and guides me out of the room, closing the door behind us.
“Willow, I—” I begin, but she cut me off.
“How dare you come here!” she hisses, her eyes blazing with anger. “Juniper is terrified, and you just barged in like you own the place!”
“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” I say, my voice softer now, filled with regret. “I came to check on you and apologize for my behavior last night.”
Willow’s shoulders sag slightly, the tension easing. “She’s all I have left,” she says quietly, tears welling up in her eyes. “I lost my sister, and now Juniper is sick. I don’t need you making things worse.”
Her words hang in the air between us, a painful reminder of how little I know about her.
“I’m not trying to make things harder for you. I just… I didn’t know. Don’t you think this is something you should have told me?”
Willow looks at me for a long moment, then nods slowly. “Frankly, it’s not your business… but now you know. Can you just leave us alone? I can’t deal with whatever… this is.” She shakes her head again, then turns and shuts the door in my face, leaving me standing in the hallway, a mix of anger and determination swirling within me.
Leaving the hospital, I feel a whirlwind of emotions—guilt, confusion, and an overwhelming sense of responsibility. The stark, fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway seem to fade into a blur as I walk out, my mind racing with thoughts of Willow and her daughter. I never imagined this was her secret. I need answers, and there is only one person who can give them to me—even if I don’t want to involve him any more than I already have.
In my car, I dial my Uncle Loren's number. He picks up on the second ring, his deep, gravelly voice a familiar comfort.
"Dallas, what’s going on? It’s late, and frankly, I’m surprised you’re calling me for a second time in a week," Loren says, his tone tinged with concern.
" I need to know about Willow. No more bullshit from you, Loren. She has a daughter, and I had no idea. What’s her story? And why is she here in Nashville all of a sudden?" I ask, my voice edged with frustration.
Loren sighs heavily on the other end of the line. "Dallas, it's not my story to tell. Willow's been through a lot, more than you can imagine. But it's her life, her privacy. All I can tell you is that you should keep an eye on them and make sure they're safe."
His words only add to my frustration. "That's not the answer I want, Uncle Loren. I need to know what's going on. If there's something in her past that could affect the club, I have to be made aware."
"Dallas," Loren's voice is stern, "respect her privacy. Sometimes, people have pasts they’re not ready to share. Trust me on this. Just watch over them."
Hanging up, I’m even more agitated. Loren’s vague advice isn’t enough. I need concrete answers. My thoughts turned to my half-brother, Drake Winston. I only hope he’ll help me. While we worked together to free Ryker from the mess he’d gotten himself into, our relationship is strained, to put it mildly, but if anyone can dig up information, it’s Drake.
Reluctantly, I dial his number. After a few rings, he answers, his voice clipped and wary. "Dallas, is everything alright? It’s unusual to hear from you, considering you keep refusing to take the money you’re owed."
"Drake, I don’t want to talk about that bastard's money right now. I need a favor," I began, trying to keep my tone neutral. "I need you to look into someone for me. Her name is Willow, and she works at my club. She has a daughter named Juniper. Something isn’t sitting right, and my uncle refuses to tell me how he came to hire her. She’s hiding something, and I want to know what."
There was a long pause on the other end before Drake speaks again, his voice tinged with curiosity and skepticism. "Since when do you care about your employees' backgrounds, Dallas?"
"It's not like that," I snap, my patience waning. "She's got a kid, and I think she’s running from something. I just need to know what I'm dealing with here."
Drake sighs. "Fine. I’ll get back to you when I have something."
The call ends, and I’m left sitting in the darkened parking lot, staring at the hospital entrance. I hate the feeling of prying into someone’s life, but I have to know. If there is something Willow is hiding, something that puts her in danger, I need to know. It’s crazy how this burning need to protect her grows stronger each day. And seeing as she has a daughter, it only makes this protectiveness flare even brighter.
I sit in the parking lot for a few moments longer before finally pulling out. Needing someone to knock some sense into me, I navigate my car to my brother Griffyn’s house. I’ve been keeping my distance from him because he still doesn’t know everything about our newly found brothers—half-brothers, that is. But if anyone can help me rationalize my crazy feelings, it’s him.
Pulling into his driveway, I’m surprised to see another car parked behind his truck. Griffyn is a private man and doesn’t usually have people over at his house.
I knock, but the door swings open under the pressure of my fist. Stepping inside, I immediately sense the tension in the air, as if I’ve walked in on something private, something not meant for my eyes. Griffyn is in the living room, holding a woman intimately. When they hear me, they jump apart. She’s beautiful and familiar, but I can’t place where I know her from. The silence is thick, almost suffocating.
“Dallas,” Griffyn said, his voice strained. “You remember Francesca.”
A memory flashes, and it hits me… Francesca, a student of his. Nodding slightly, my eyes continue to dart between her and Griffyn, trying to read the situation.
Francesca looks at Griffyn, then back at me, her discomfort clear. “Hi, Dallas. And it’s Frankie, not Francesca,” she says quickly, gathering her things. “I should go.”
“Francesca, wait—” Griffyn starts, but she’s already moving toward the door.
“Good to see you again, Dallas,” she murmurs over her shoulder before slipping out, leaving a void in her wake.
Once the door closes behind her, I turn to Griffyn, my curiosity piqued. “What the hell was that about?”
Griffyn’s expression darkens. “Mind your own business, Dallas,” he snaps, turning away.
I raise my hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I won’t push. But it looked like I interrupted something.”
Griffyn’s shoulders sag, the tension easing slightly. “It’s complicated.”
“Fair enough.” I shrug, dropping the subject. “Actually, I came here because I need to talk to you about something.”
He gestures for me to sit, and we move to the kitchen. Griffyn pours us both a glass of whiskey, his earlier agitation still simmering beneath the surface. I take a sip, trying to find the right words.
“You remember my new manager?” I began, glancing at Griffyn to gauge his reaction.
“Willow, right?” he asks, leaning back in his chair. “What about her?”
“Yeah.” I exhale, running a hand through my hair. “I found out recently she has a daughter, and it’s thrown me for a loop. I’ve been such an asshole to her, and now I’m realizing how much she’s been dealing with. And the thing is… she’s driving me crazy.”
Griffyn listens quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly as he processes my words. “Crazy, how? Is her kid a problem for her doing her job?”
“No. It’s not that.” I admit, frustration creeping into my voice. “For the first time in a long time, a woman is getting under my skin. I’m confused about my feelings for her. She’s strong, and she’s been through hell, according to Loren. I can’t stop thinking about her and now this thing with her kid… Juniper. I want to help them, be there for them. And this sense of protectiveness is throwing me off balance.”
Griffyn takes a deep breath, pondering his response. “Dallas, it sounds like you’re starting to care about her. Have you told her what you’re feeling?”
I stare at my brother and shake my head. “No, the opposite, actually. I’ve intentionally been a dick to keep her at arm's length. Then I find out she’s got a kid, and my universe has tilted on its access. Not to mention, she’s hiding something. I can’t stand liars, Griff.”
“Maybe you just need to get laid.”
Snorting, I set my glass down. “That’s your solution? Get my dick wet?”
“Well, if you get laid and you still want her, you’ll know it’s more than just attraction. Granted, I doubt she’ll want anything to do with you if she knows you’re fucking other women, but it would certainly clear up what you’re feeling.” Griffyn taps his knuckles on the table. “Have you heard anything more from the Winston brothers?”
“Actually, I called Drake. He’s going to see what he can find out about Willow.”
“Jesus. I was wrong. You have it bad for her if you’re involving them . I hope it doesn’t blow up in your face, brother. I don’t trust the Winston clan, blood or not.”
Shaking my head, I push to a stand. “I don’t think they’re responsible for their father's sins, Griff. Hell, he was our father, too… remember?”
“Oh… I remember. I’m just glad Gage was the one to put a bullet in his head. Because if not him, I think it would have been one of us, eventually.”
After my enlightening conversation with Griff, I head home. I’ve barely made it to my driveway when my phone rings.
“Drake, I didn’t expect you to call me back so soon.”
“I’ve got some information on Willow,” he said without preamble. “It’s… complicated.”