20. Storm
I wake up to quiet and natural light. A room that feels airy, piney—and not mine.
Right.
It’s Sunday, my day off, and I’m grateful my work alarm didn’t go off. There’s no jolt of panic, no tightness in my chest. Just quiet. I stretch and sit up against the headboard.
Have a good night, Storm.
I don’t know how long I sat up last night, staring into space trying to figure out how one night could sound wrong or insulting to anyone. But eventually, I fell asleep. How could I not, living in this luxury?
The shower was hot and calming. The guest robes, glorious. And the bed—certainly better than anything we’d had in a while.
I’m not upset—even as I sit up and picture his back as he strode to the door, offering a soft wink before closing the door behind him. Don’t get me wrong, it stung. But I’m willing to bet my expectations—or lack of them—stung him deeper.
I pull on the bathrobe and step out the back door barefoot. The porch boards are cool, solid. And the mountains sit wide and familiar in the distance.
I rest my hands on the railing and take a breath. It’s a little after eight judging by the sun and I don’t need to be anywhere—except quietly leaving before anyone thinks I’m taking permanent residence here.
The only reason I came was for you. When I showed up and you weren’t there—I went to your parents’ house.
The words landed, but they didn’t settle right last night. They just hung there, unanswered, unappreciated, unquestioned. Because fear took over.
Fear, anxiety . . . and shame took over the moment Silas asked me who told me he’d left with a cheerleader.
Somehow I’d forgotten four key words—I came for you—and focused on the several scenarios of how my answer, Jasper Hayes, would spiral into Silas finding out the truth.
And shouldn’t he?
Is there a good time to tell him?
Is there even a reason to? I step into the living room, finding my phone on the counter. There’s a message from Silas that makes my heart skip a beat.
It’s a picture of him and Max at the wedding—sent early this morning. I heart it and set it down, heading straight for the coffee machine.
Minutes later, as I’m sipping the strong caffeine, soaking in the morning peace—and the accommodations—a long, persistent honk outside the front door pulls me back.
Heck is that? Don’t tell me the boys have a wake-up call here.
I peek behind the curtain. Oh. It’s Rose getting a little honk-happy in her colorful golf cart. One she’d stolen from the lot, claimed as her own—and personalized it. The words Wild Rose painted pink across the front.
Willow is with her and I take it the two are on good terms again now that wedding-day stress is behind them.
I pull the door open and lean along the door frame with my coffee. “You causin’ trouble again?”
“Always.” Rose grins and points to Willow. “Brought my accomplice.”
“Mornin’,” Willow calls. “Get dressed, we’re going to breakfast.”
I narrow my eyes then purse my lips. “Well, all right, give me a few. Still got to get Max up.”
Fifteen minutes later, Max and I are back in our wedding attire and climbing into the back seat. And because I didn’t wear a sweater with my dress, I’m wearing Silas’s suede blazer he left here last night.
“Shouldn’t you be packin’ for your honeymoon?” I ask the newlywed. “Or at least hanging out with your new-ish husband?”
“Probably. But there’s plenty of time for that later. Right now we want to be with family and friends and do all that mushy stuff later.”
Rose glances back. “So, how do you like the cottage?”
I look over at Max and he jumps in. “It’s awesome. But Mom says we can’t stay.”
“Nonsense,” Rose insists, cutting through a curve faster than she should.
Tires rattle over dirt and the cart bounces hard enough to knock my teeth together.
I grip the side rail and my kid’s forearm hoping she’ll take the hint, but she doesn’t ease up.
Rose knows exactly how far she can push this thing. “Of course you can. You work here.”
“So do thirty others but we’re running out of Thorne men to play hero,” I tease.
Willow pushes her wind-blown hair back from her face. “Hey, least you two were offered your own place. I snuck my way in, only for that cowboy to toss me and my suitcase in the back of his truck and drive me to the airport.”
Rose laughs and while I’ve only heard Willow and Dallas’s story in pieces through the grapevine, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what happened.
Rose pulls up in front of The Shack and I hop out, certain my hair is all out of sorts since I didn’t have time to braid it this morning.
“Oh, we’re not eating here. We’re just dropping off Max,” Rose tells me.
“There he is,” Dallas calls, and that’s when I spot the table of men gathered around one of the wooden tables on the patio.
Both my bosses, Connor, Wes, and . . . one annoyingly gorgeous black sheep. While I’m over here wearing last night’s dress, his jacket, and not an ounce of make-up.
Wilder stands and heads down the steps, giving Rose a kiss and a playful warning that makes me smile. “One of these days you’re gonna figure out that cart’s not indestructible.”
“Here’s to hoping that day’s not today.” She gives him a peck back. “I’m going to grab some coffees to go and we’ll be on our way.”
Wilder shakes his head, then looks at me. “Shoulda never upgraded her tires.” He stretches a hand out for Max. “Come on buddy, been waitin’ for ya.” He shuffles his hair. “Hope you came hungry, we eat like cavemen when the girls aren’t around.”
“Cool! Can I stay, Mom?”
I hesitate. “Oh, I don’t know where or how long—”
“We’ve got him. Besides,” he glances back and lowers his voice. “We need someone responsible to go along for whatever these two got planned.”
He tells the girl who got knocked up at eighteen.
I straighten Max’s hair and fix his jacket, huffing a breath. “Be good.” I watch him run up the stairs—straight to Silas who catches him with a smile that melts my heart. His gaze sharpens when it finds mine and he gives me a reassuring wink. Then stands from his seat and heads my way.
I pull my gaze back to the man in front of me. “Yeah, I’ll take care of ’em, boss.”
“Thanks.” Wilder’s mouth curves like we’ve formed some secret alliance before leaving me alone with Silas.
I cross my arms and tilt my head. I thought seeing him after last night would feel sore and uncomfortable.
I thought it would sting, maybe leave me flushed with embarrassment.
Instead, there’s a strange lightness in my chest. Playful.
A little hurt, yes—but not broken. Like this is just part of us, not the end of us.
“You look good in my jacket.”
“That’s why you’re not getting it back,” I quip. “Besides, I’ll need something to remember you by when there’s nothing left of you here but a puff of smoke.” I blow a puff of air at him.
He clutches his heart. “Wow, you’re really drivin’ that point home, aren’t you?”
I glance at his crisp white sneakers. “If the shoe fits.”
He licks his lips and glances over my head. “I know you’re thinking of going home today.”
“I am going home today.”
“That’s why I’m going to need your apartment keys.”
I jerk. “What the hell for?”
“To bring your things.”
“You’re not going through my things and I’m not moving.”
He smirks. “Why not? You hiding sexy toys in your drawer?”
“So my son would find them? No,” I hiss, horrified.
He strokes the scruff taking life along his jaw. “So you’ve considered them.”
“Course I have, I imagine they make those things to know what they’re doing—which is more than I can say for some men.” I let my eyes wash over him and bite back a smirk, lifting my chin as he steps further into my space.
“You can say what you want about the men you’ve been with. But don’t judge something you haven’t tried.”
I raise my brows, pushing against his chest. “Oh, I tried. And it left me disappointed.”
“Because you made us a one-night stand before giving me a chance, Storm.” Suddenly our playful retort is replaced with a charged edge.
“A chance to what?” I shrug.
We’re interrupted when a large hand touches Silas’s shoulder.
His dad’s.
“All right, you two.” He watches us both as we step back from each other. And I swear it’s déjà vu. “Now, Silas—apologize to Storm for pulling her hair.”
“I didn’t pull her hair, Dad.”
“Are you sure? Because I could have sworn you two were acting like children.”
Silas looks over sheepishly. “I’m sorry I pulled your hair.” He gives me a subtle look that says, But you deserved it.
The stubbornness in my chest eases and I can’t help my smuggish grin. “Apology accepted.”
“Great,” Connor sighs. “Now we need to settle where Sunday dinners are going to be, so—are you staying at the cottage or not?”
“What?”
“Dad, for Christ’s sake,” Silas mutters.
He raises his hands. “Sorry, I’m not helping. For what it’s worth, now that the idea’s in our heads, we’re not letting you not take it, Storm. You’re family here. Always been.”
Warmth floods my chest. “I appreciate that, Mr. Thorne.”
He nods. “Course if you don’t take it, Wilder says he’s going to make your start time six a.m. if that’s what it takes.”
I narrow my eyes. “Ya’ll got a bet going or somethin’?”
He stares blankly at me. “I think my eggs are getting cold. Good seeing you, Storm.”
I glare at Silas, then release a sigh. “I’ll ask the girls to swing by my place on the way back. Pick up a few things.” I point a finger at him. “But just for a few more days.” But also because I don’t trust this man not to buy the building just so he could get into my apartment to clean it out.
“Works for me.”
Rose rushes out with our coffees and urges Willow, who’s fussing over Emmit in his stroller by Dallas. “Will, he’s fine, let’s go. These lattes took forever.”
“I’d better go before she starts hollerin’ at me.” I offer him a small smile. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me, I just got in trouble for pulling your hair. And you didn’t defend me.”
“Why would I when I still feel the sting?” I whisper before grabbing my latte from Rose and hopping in the back seat.