Chapter 15 #2
“I’ll owe you big time. Please, Mollie. Wheeler won’t answer my calls or texts. I don’t know when she’ll be back. I don’t know what’s going on inside her head. I care about her.” Too much, but whatever.
Mollie pauses for what feels like the hundredth time. Sweat pours down my skull and runs into my eyes.
She sighs. “Fine. But you promise you’re just going there to check on her?”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.”
“I will stick a needle in your eye if you upset her.”
There’s a pinch in my center. “Why would you think I’d ever intentionally upset Wheeler?”
“Just…she hasn’t had great luck with men in general. And I know y’all weren’t planning on, well, this. How are you doing?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’ll be better once I know she’s all right.”
“You’re sweet. But really, Duke—I know you’re not okay.”
“Of course I’m not okay.”
More silence. I appreciate that she doesn’t rush to fill it and instead thoughtfully considers what she’ll say next.
“We’re here for y’all,” she says. “I’m here for you. Which is why I’m going to give you this address. But you let her know you’re coming, yeah?”
“Of course. Like I said, she doesn’t answer me when I reach out, but I’ll definitely still reach out.”
“I’m rooting for you. Just so you know.”
My eyes burn. “Thank you, Mollie.” My voice is down to a whisper now. Can’t go any louder than that, or my strained vocal cords will collapse. “I really appreciate the help.”
“I know you do. Y’all will be okay. Maybe not right away.” She takes another breath. “But it’ll work out how it’s supposed to.”
I don’t know how that’s possible. But I thank her again anyway.
She texts me Wheeler’s address after we hang up. Plugging it into my GPS app, I see that I have a two-hundred-mile drive ahead of me.
Best hit the road. I need to know Wheeler is okay. And then I need to fix this, because…
Too many reasons.
I grab a quick shower and throw some shit in a bag.
I look up my hotel options in Wheeler’s neighborhood.
By the time I get to Dallas, it will be nightfall, and I’ll be too tired to drive back to the ranch.
I know better than to assume Wheeler will let me stay at her place, although I’m more than a little curious about what it’s like. Girly? Fancy? Does she have roommates?
How do I not know this about her?
Because she doesn’t want me to. Right.
Speeding out of Hartsville, I wonder if anyone in Wheeler’s family is with her. She didn’t seem particularly close with them. But that’s what family is for, isn’t it, to be there for you in times of crisis?
Family. I love mine. I always thought I’d have my own in a vague, way-far-into-the-distant-future type of way.
Ella is cute as a fucking button, and I loved growing up in a big family.
Watching my older brothers pair off has made me realize just how much I want to find my person. Get married one day. Have kids.
I just don’t want to do that at twenty-seven. I have too many other things I want to accomplish first. The idea that I’ll have to give all that up—
My eyes burn. I blink and roll down my window. The roar of the cool air fills the truck. The sudden drop in temperature is bracing, but it does nothing to slow my wild heartbeat.
I decide to let myself feel all these awful feelings on the drive up to Dallas.
Panic.
Embarrassment.
Shame.
Sadness.
I learned when my parents died that bottling that shit up is not the answer. Cash made sure we were all in counseling for years after the accident, and my takeaway was just how important it is to sit with your emotions. Whether they’re good, bad, or ugly, you gotta honor them.
I don’t let the panic or the sadness win. But I do allow myself to mourn what might’ve been. I have no idea what Wheeler wants to do about the baby. Will she want to keep it? If she does, would we co-parent, or…
Hell, I don’t know what I want to do about the baby.
But assuming she does want to keep it, my plans for the future just took a hard left turn.
No way I’ll be able to travel, at least not for a while.
I did get a huge pay bump when Mollie and Cash made my brothers and me equal partners in Lucky River Ranch.
But Sawyer’s said over and over again that raising a baby in this day and age ain’t cheap.
Especially if you plan to save for college.
I didn’t get a degree, but I want to make damn sure my kids have the opportunity to get one if they want.
Then there’s the diapers, the car seats—shit, I should probably get a new truck, one that’s more reliable—the cribs, the insurance, the child support…
Not to mention the fact that my world would get a lot smaller.
More constrained. If I’m gonna be a daddy, I’m gonna do it right.
That’s just how my parents raised me. Mom would roll over in her grave if I was a deadbeat who was only kinda sorta involved in his kid’s life.
I wanna be present for everything: the first smile, first steps, first day of school.
My mom and dad were my people, and I wanna be my kid’s person too.
That kinda commitment means showing up. All the damn time. And that means no longer owning my time.
My life.
The idea sends my pulse into a tailspin.
I know I’m getting close to Wheeler’s place when I hit traffic. It’s rush hour, and I-35 is a parking lot. Gives me some time to get myself together. I dry my eyes and slow my breathing, which in turn slows my heart rate.
I have to be strong for Wheeler if—when—she falls apart. The important thing is that she knows I’m there for her.
GPS leads me to a busy area near the center of the city. I pass lots of restaurants and shopping along with midrise apartment buildings that look brand new. People my age—younger even—crowd the sidewalks.
I like it here.
I’m also not surprised this is where Wheeler lives. I’ve gathered that Wheeler’s parents have some money, and this part of town can’t be cheap to live in. They pay her rent for her? Buy her a place even?
I slow at the end of a quieter street when my GPS tells me I’ve arrived at my destination. Glancing out my passenger side window, I see a row of cute townhomes made of painted brick with black shutters.
A beat later, I spot Wheeler’s white Mini Cooper parked on the opposite side of the street.
My stomach dips. She’s home.
I parallel park in a spot nearby and check my phone. Surprise surprise, she hasn’t responded to my texts or called me back.
Running a hand over my face, I realize I forgot to shave. Fuck.
Am I making the right call by showing up like this?
I think on that for a minute before the answer comes to me on a hard, certain heartbeat. I am making the right call.
At least I think I am.
Whatever the case, I’m here.
Taking a deep breath, I open my door and walk across the street in the deepening twilight to 209 Meadowood Lane. When I see the words on the doormat, I immediately know it’s Wheeler’s place.
Everyone Welcome Except Jolene.
I smile. Then I screw my courage to the sticking place and raise my arm to knock on the door.