Chapter Sixteen
Isla
My phone buzzes in my pocket, an insistent vibration tickling my leg. I pull it out of my pocket, fingers slick with alcohol, my heart hammering in tune with the urgency of the incoming call. It's Rand, my brother, and after a ring and a half, he hangs up.
Instead, a block of words come through in a text me message that thickens into a knot of dread in my gut.
Mom's sick. Really sick.
A cold sweep of panic brushes my skin. I need to see her. Now. The bar, with its friendly faces and flirty people, suddenly feels like the last place on earth I want to be. But Walker, my boss—the only one who could let me leave—is absent. I’d watched him walk out the door with a sense that he wasn’t coming back for a while. Which is good – after he cornered me like that… let’s just say I’ve never been that excited or hot in my entire life.
“Hey, Vice!” I call to the second-in-command, a hulking shadow washing dishes because the night has been so insanely busy. “I need to talk to you!”
Vice jerks his head, indicating he wants me to walk over, and I do. The memory of splashing ice water over him in the aftermath of his fight with Walker has me worried. Is he the type to hold a grudge?
“I have a family emergency,” I say, scared and breathless, the weight of fear heavy on my shoulders. “I need some time off.”
He stares for a heartbeat, his expression glacial, then his features soften, the lines of irritation smoothing away. “Go,” he says in a gruff tone, and I'm sprinting toward the break room to grab my things before he can change his mind.
The journey to my childhood home and the town I grew up in is a blur, the dark swallowing up any familiar sights, save the stretch of streetlights that were where I felt I could breathe when I left home after breaking up with Chase.
My mom had better be okay. I can’t handle more bad news.
When I finally step into the family home, the sight that greets me clenches my chest—Monique, my mom, wrapped in blankets on the couch, her once vibrant face now pale and gaunt.
“Hey, Mom,” I whisper, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat as I crouch before her.
“Baby,” she breathes, a smile curving the corners of her pale lips. The affection in her voice wraps around me like a hug.
“Are you comfortable?” I ask, studying her as she lies on her side, a pillow under her head, blankets covering her small form.
She nods, and I move to the kitchen, my movements robotic as I start making chicken noodle soup. She’d always made it for us growing up when we were sick, but somehow, the gesture doesn’t feel like enough.
When the food is done, I bring her a small bowl. I help her sit up, noticing how she’s shaking, and I help her with the bowl. But she only wants to sip just the broth and each swallow takes effort.
“I love you,” she says, reaching out to touch my cheek, and the dam inside me threatens to break.
“I love you, too.” The words feel thick in my mouth.
After she lays back down to rest, I make my way into the kitchen to wash dishes. I find Rand, who stands beside me, sleeves rolled up as he helps me. When he glances at me, his eyebrows drawn together in concern, I try to prepare myself.
“I heard about Chase,” he says, and I flinch at the name, my past with the town's golden boy another ache I don't need right now.
“Let's not.” I shake my head. “That's the last thing on my mind.”
His jaw sets, protective anger flaring in his eyes. “I could—”
“Please, no.” My hands pass him a soapy bowl. He rinses off the suds and places it in the dish drying rack. “This is about Mom, not me, not him.”
He nods, letting it go, but I see the look in his eyes; he'd do anything for family. We both would. And right now, all I want is to keep ours together.
I sit by Mom's side, holding her frail hand. Her eyelids open and blink, and she offers me a weak smile that seems to exhaust her.
“Can you get me some clear soda, darling?” she whispers.
“Of course, Mom,” I say, squeezing her hand before letting go. “I'll be right back.”
I motion to Rand, who's hovering in the doorway, his body taut with worry. He shakes his head, indicating we have none. I jerk my thumb toward the front door and he nods, understanding the silent message as I make my way to the front door.
The supermarket feels cold, impersonal, and I navigate the aisles like a woman on a mission. After buying the soda, I hurry back to the parking lot, eager to return to Mom's side when a familiar figure catches my eye.
Chase leans against a sleek sports car, his arm draped casually around a woman whose name I don't care to know. The sight of them together knots my stomach, an unwelcome reminder of a past I'd rather forget. I lift my chin high and look straight forward, making my way to my car like I didn’t notice him at all.
“Hey!” That’s Chase’s voice. I’m not going to look, I’m not going to look. I’m so close to my car.
But as I fumble for my car keys, I see him walking toward me with that cocky swagger I once found charming.
“Long time no see. When did you get back?” He sounds curious, and that sets my teeth on edge.
“I'm not back.” I lift my shoulders. “I’m just visiting.”
“Did you drop out of college?” His tone carries an edge of mockery that makes my skin crawl and the girl next to him squints up at him, a smile on her face.
“Nope.” I don’t owe him answers, but I’m proud to be acing my classes.
He arches an eyebrow, skepticism written all over his too-handsome face.
“I’m visiting my family, that's it.” I angle myself toward my beat-up sedan. “Now if you'll excuse me—”
“Wait up,” he says, his new accessory, whispering something in his ear. He smirks. “Violet here thinks you're really, really hot.”
I fight down the bile rising in my throat, my grip tightening around the plastic bag holding the soda. “Good for her,” I say, the words tasting gross on my tongue. “I need to go.”
“Still playing hard to get?” Chase's grin widens, but I'm already unlocking my car.
I drop into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind me. My hands tremble as I jam the key into the ignition, my heart pounding so hard I feel faint.
As I pull away, I catch a glimpse of them in the rearview mirror, Chase's arm snaking around her waist. And just like that, they're gone, disappearing from view. I let out a shaky breath, willing my thoughts back to the one person who matters.
“Almost there, Mom,” I whisper to myself, clutching the steering wheel tight as I make my way back home.
The fizz of the clear soda as I pour it into a glass stings my nose. I watch my mother's delicate hands wrap around the cold cup. She lifts it to her lips, and the small sips she takes are more reassuring than I’d hoped to feel.
“Sweetheart, you don't know how good it is to see your face,” she murmurs, setting the cup down with a soft clink on the glass coffee table.
“I've missed you, too.” The lump in my throat threatens to choke me. “I love you so much.”
She smiles, but it's such a frail expression. “And how's work treating you? You always have the most interesting stories.”
Work. The word sends a jolt through me, bringing images of Walker to mind—his intense eyes, the commanding set of his shoulders, the way my name sounds in his rich, deep voice. Heat creeps up my neck, but I push those thoughts aside. Mom doesn't need to know about the inappropriate crush I have on my boss.
“Work's great, Mom. And school... I'm doing really well in my classes.”
“Good girl.” Her hand reaches out, weak but determined, to squeeze mine. “I'm so proud of you.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I give her hand a gentle squeeze back. I sense she’s tired and ready to sleep again, and I press a kiss to her forehead before retreating to my childhood bedroom, needing a moment to breathe.
Lying in my old bed, I stare at the ceiling, tracing the glow-in-the-dark stars with my eyes. The room feels both comforting and foreign—a space filled with memories, yet the girl who lived here is so different now, it’s like looking at someone else’s story. And tonight, it's not the what ifs that haunts me; it's the yearning for someone who is miles away.
Walker. His image fills my mind, the image strong and vivid. I imagine him here, in this very room, his frame dwarfing the full-sized bed. He would look out of place amid the pastel walls and stuffed animals, a lion in a kitten's den. But then, he'd turn those piercing eyes on me, and nothing else would matter.
His presence is so real, I can almost feel the weight of his body beside me, the rough pads of his fingers tracing patterns on my skin. I curl into myself, hugging my pillow, pretending it's him. Pretending his breath is warming my neck, his chest firm against my back.
“Kiss me, Walker,” I whisper into the silence, and it's ridiculous, but the fantasy sends shivers down my spine. In my mind, he leans over, the stubble on his jaw brushing against my cheek before his lips find mine.
The tingling starts at my lips and radiates outward, a warmth that fills me with a longing so intense, it's almost painful. I want him here, now, to chase away the chill of fear and loneliness. To make me forget, even for a moment, why I'm here.
Sighing, I roll onto my back, clutching the pillow tighter. It's just a daydream. Tomorrow, I'll wake up to the same worries, the same responsibilities. But for now, in the dark safety of my room, I allow myself this one indulgence. Just for tonight, I'll dream of Walker holding me close, and maybe, in my dreams, everything will be okay.
I brush past the aisles, my fingers skimming over the cool metal of the shelves. The familiar ding of the convenience store door chimes in the background. I needed to gas up my car and figured I might find some treat that sounded good on the shelves.
“I can't believe you're still around,” a voice drawls behind me.
I stiffen, annoyance flooding through me. Is he following me now?
I turn, ready to tell him to leave me alone. Chase stands there, a smug expression on his face as if he’s convinced the story he made up about me is true, after all. There’s a new girl draped on his arm and her eyes rake over me with an air of superiority that has no real foundation.
I don’t even grace him with a response. Instead, I turn around, looking through a rack of dried meats.
“Come on, don't be like that.” He moves far too close for comfort, the scent of his cologne bringing an unwelcome familiarity. “You know, I've missed—”
“Save it.” I cut him off sharply, snatching a bag of jerky and turning to face him. “I'm here for my family, not to repeat past mistakes.”
The girl giggles, her fingers walking up his chest. “She so cute when she's feisty.”
Chase's eyes never leave mine, anger filling them. He reaches out and grabs my arm, and I look down at the contact before looking him in the eyes.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask, willing him to remember when I punched him in the face. Freeing my arm with a jerk, I make a beeline for the checkout counter.
I won’t let Chase dominate my thoughts.
I miss Walker—the thought brings with it a sharp ache that makes it hard to breathe. I miss his raw honesty and intensity that leaves me breathless.
I love my family. They are why I'm here. And I'm happy to be with them, truly. But part of me yearns to be near Walker.
Chase will keep showing off the women he’s enjoying. I’m sure he even thinks he’ll get under my skin. But I’m done with him. Each run-in with him is just another reminder to look forward, to where my heart really lies.