Chapter Fifteen
Wade
It was one-hundred-percent worth sneaking around back here to see the surprised look on Scarlett’s face. She thought she was being so sneaky using this exit, which is why I told her I’d be waiting at the front of The Serendipity. If I’d told her I would be waiting here, she would’ve gone out the front door.
“Going somewhere?” I ask with a smile.
Her eyes are still wide with surprise. But she recovers quickly.
She jabs me in the chest. “You can’t just scare me like that!”
“Well, you’re trying to scare me by not telling me who you’re going out with. Seems about fair.”
“I thought we decided you were not going to be my brother.”
“Trust me, I’m not trying to be your brother, but I am going to be someone who looks out for you. Because let me tell you something—being your brother is the last thing I want to be.” I might be saying too much, but this feeling burning inside of me is getting harder to contain .
“Now, that’s just hurtful. I thought you at least liked me.”
I grab her shoulders and squeeze gently. “Scarlett, please just let me do this. I don’t know why, but I just want to know that you’re okay. I can’t explain it. I’ve got that feeling again.”
She bites her bottom lip and seems to debate her answer. But my gut feelings are notorious and often talked about in the Fernsby household. Phoenix has turned it into a thing of legend, which works in my favor tonight because she finally says, “Okay, but you’re not going to ruin my goodnight kiss this time, you got it?”
Even though my chest is burning and telling me I should argue with her on the whole goodnight kiss thing, I just nod. “I promise you will get your goodnight kiss tonight.”
“Good, because I haven’t been kissed in over a year.”
And then she walks past me up the stairs.
She’s going to kill me. With her obliviousness to the way I feel about her. It’s going to crush my soul—her talking about kissing someone else…talking about dating someone else. She hasn’t kissed anyone in a year. How is that possible?
I’m pretty sure I’m in purgatory right now. And not even a high level of it—more like teetering on the edge of hell.
We walk to the parking garage together, and she climbs into my car without hesitation.
“Are you going to be okay?” I ask her as I start up the car.
“As long as you don’t ruin my date,” she replies sweetly as she leans forward to turn the music on. She finds some early 2000s classics and starts singing loudly. “Remember my mom blasting this in the house on Saturdays when she would clean?”
I laugh at that. “I was always scared to come over on cleaning day because I knew she would make me dust something.”
Scarlett laughs and seems to focus on that rather than my driving. “I always loved getting to mop the kitchen. ”
“Yeah, I remember how much water you used. It was practically pool depth,” I say as I turn onto the main street. “Where are we going?”
“Oh, we’re having dinner at Lucky Springs Brewery.”
“Please don’t tell me you were going to bike all the way over there,” I grind out.
She ignores me and leans forward to turn the music up.
I sigh. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you nervous with my driving.”
She snickers. “Well, this time, I was turning it up to ignore you so I wouldn’t have to answer.” She smiles impishly at me, and I have the urge to reach over and tousle her hair.
Lucky for me, I value my life enough not to mess up pre-date hair.
“Will you ever decide to drive again?” I ask her. It’s a big ask, especially since we’re driving down a busy road right now. I purposefully drive under the speed limit so she’ll feel safe.
Scarlett shrugs. “I’ve kept my license active. And I feel like I’m getting better. I’ve managed a few short drives. I’ve been talking with my therapist about it, and she thinks I’m getting to the point where I could try again without a problem. She’s got a lot more faith in me than I do in myself,” she says with a laugh.
She adjusts the volume down and turns to me. “How were you able to do it?”
“Do what?” I ask, not sure where she’s going with this.
“Be okay with fires?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. She’s talking about the fact that I’m a firefighter—and the reason I became one.
When I was eleven years old, our family home burned down. I will never forget waking up in the middle of the night in my upstairs bedroom, knowing something was wrong. It was that gut-feeling thing.
I got out of bed and woke my brother, and we went downstairs to wake our parents. The living room was on fire, but we were able to wake them up and get safely outside. The house was a total loss.
“You act like it didn’t bother you, even though I know it did. But you’re still able to be a firefighter. Why can’t I be like that? Maybe I should become a NASCAR driver,” she mutters to herself.
“You are different,” I say.
“Geez, thanks.”
“No, let me finish. You are different from most people. You take the time to understand things. And learn them. You’ll research everything there is to know about a bike helmet before you buy one.”
“I don’t know if this is making me sound?—”
I reach out and touch her lips with my index finger, silencing her protest. A rookie mistake—because she bites it.
“Ouch. Not the first time you’ve bit me.”
“Probably not the last.” She chuckles, and I risk a glance at her to see her twinkling eyes.
“What I was trying to say before you so rudely interrupted me,” I say as I hold my finger in the air, “is that you take time to understand things. Whether it’s things that excite you or things you’re afraid of—and your fear is justified. But something about you is that you take time to understand situations—and people. And that is exactly what makes you so special. You make everyone you know feel seen and understood. I don’t know how you do it. Because there is no one else I feel this comfortable with.”
As I say it, I realize it’s the truth. It’s what makes me feel so special with her. She sees me .
“I wish I could be more like you, honestly,” she says.
“What? Oblivious? Abrupt? Mean?”
She snorts. “You’re none of those things, even if sometimes you wish you could be. No. You run toward your trauma, and I run away from mine.”
“That’s not how I see it. I see you taking the time to learn and embrace things. This isn’t an irrational fear you have. Not like my fear of getting sucked down the bathtub drain.” I fake a shudder, and Scarlett throws back her head and laughs.
“See? You had a real experience. And I’m glad you’re okay. When you’re ready to drive again, you can practice in my car.”
“That’s so sweet of you?—”
“In an abandoned parking lot,” I add with a cheeky grin.
“I take that back.”
“But in the meantime, I’m happy to drive you if I’m not working.”
I pull to a stop outside Lucky Springs Brewery. “I like this place. Who picked it for dinner?”
She smirks. “I did. I’ll just get an Uber home.”
“No, I don’t want you to be nervous riding with someone else. I’ll bring you home.”
Her face relaxes into a smile at that, but she manages one last protest. “That’s a pain for you to have to drive back and pick me up.”
“Nah, I’ll order curbside pickup and eat a delicious dinner in the car.”
That smile turns into a scowl really fast. “Just because we had a nice heart-to-heart in the car doesn’t mean I’m backing down on our agreement. You are not going to ruin this date for me. He’s cute. He has a freaking tattoo sleeve. And he even wore a ring?—”
She freezes for a moment, and I realize her gaze is on my hand on the steering wheel. The hand with a ring on it. Lucky for me, it’s starting to feel more natural to wear.
Scarlett snaps her jaw closed briefly, then continues, “I’m going to enjoy this dinner without you plastering your face on that window!” She points to the big bay window on the bottom floor of the brewery.
“Oh, please, I can be a lot more discreet than that,” I say with a laugh.
“I will do something awful to make you regret it if you ruin this date for me,” she promises as she climbs out of the car.
“Promises, promises. Have a good time at dinner. Stay safe. Be home by nine—” She slams the door and cuts off my monologue. She walks toward the front of the restaurant, and a host holds the door open for her. I watch as a man walks down the street.
He looks vaguely familiar, and I see that he’s waving to Scarlett, trying to catch her attention.
Scarlett waves back to him, and he walks up to greet her with a hug. I see some lingering hands I don’t like, but I guess it is a date after all.
The man pulls back and smiles down at Scarlett as he runs a hand through his hair.
That’s when I place him. I was at the courthouse when I saw him. He was standing next to all the police officers wearing handcuffs.
He did the exact same hair-brushing move but with his hands locked together. I shake my head, hoping I’m remembering wrong, but I don’t think I am.
Scarlett and the man disappear inside the restaurant, and I’m left sitting in the car, staring at the building.
She’s on a date with a man who was wearing handcuffs a few days ago. She probably knows. Maybe it was a big misunderstanding. A case of mistaken identity, surely.
Maybe it was a…joke. Yes, that could be it. Maybe that man was an undercover officer pulled into the courtroom with handcuffs on? This is sounding more far-fetched by the minute. Serendipity Springs is not a hotbed of crime .
I pull out my phone and make a phone call.
Police Officer Kevin Wilson answers the phone. “Hello? What do you want, Hendrix? I didn’t miss racquetball, did I?”
“No. Say, do you remember when I saw you at the courthouse the other day?”
“Yes,” he replies hesitantly.
“Who was the man in handcuffs beside you?”
“That was Briggs Charleston,” Wilson explains. “Why? Have you seen him?”
“I’m looking at him right now.” I watch through the big window as Briggs sits down across from Scarlett.
“He has a warrant out for his arrest. He was released on bail and was supposed to appear in court today. He didn’t. Where are you?”
“I’m sitting outside Lucky Springs Brewery. He’s inside on a date, it looks like,” I explain. This is not looking good for Scarlett. She was wanting a nice, normal date, and she’s not going to get it.
I wish I had it in me to feel bad she’s missing out on that goodnight kiss…but I don’t. My brain is doing a happy dance that I won’t have to watch her kiss another man goodnight while simultaneously freaking out that she’s sitting across from a man with an arrest warrant.
“I’ll be right there,” Wilson says. “Let me know if you see him leave.”