Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
WINNIE
Saying Goodbye
The drive home is quiet, and not because we’re thinking.
More that we’re all exhausted. Soft snores emanate from beneath West’s jacket as Cloakton encroaches.
And the closer we come to the major town, the tighter my grip on West’s hand becomes.
The closer we get to Brad, even stuck in his facility.
Hell, I hope the treatment does something.
Something good. I hope he goes home to his new family, makes up, and forgets that Sally and I exist.
My phone vibrates as messages come through, but I can’t look at them just yet. Reality is too real already and I’m not as prepared as I thought I was for this perfect bubble to burst. Ever.
“It’s too close,” I murmur.
West strokes the back of my hand. “Is it risking everything to say it’s all perfect from here on in and that we’ll make it work?”
I smile, not looking up at him as gold flares across the afternoon sky.
Purple touches the high clouds above, which will darken soon.
“It’s not too soon at all. Or risking it.
” Turning my head, I press a kiss to his shoulder where his spare jacket pulls back.
Heat that never stops rolling off him seeps soul-deep into me. “Will you stay?”
Some of the tension that’s dissipated from him in the last days returns. “Lanie’s staying with you and Sally for the next week, right, until Cord comes to collect her?”
I toy with a frayed patch on his jacket hem.
He’s got the funds to replace it. I know that.
West might not have a bank account the size of my brother’s, but he’s by no means broke.
This just seems to be his favorite thing.
“Yeah, she’s studying. Cord doesn’t want her driving.
Especially at night. Migraines and all.”
I wince at the memory of once asking my bestie to drive back from Coyote Falls into the glare of headlights that cost her a three-day nap of hell lost in migraine land, and that was before she fell pregnant.
“Solid call. Cord’s doing something right for his woman. At least, he’s trying. I’ll stay out of the way while you two reconnect.”
“Look at you, having all the words today. Sure you don’t want to stay?”
“I have a limit. I just haven’t reached it. Yet.” His hand covers mine, squeezing. “What I want and what I should do are two different things. You need some space with your girl. I’ve got some work to tidy up. Then…”
Then what?
I’m not sure either of us have the answer to that question. Those two words hang unspoken between us, and neither of us try to answer.
Sally is dozy when I lead her to our front door, our bags slung over my shoulders.
West stands back, refusing to walk up to the house with us in case he wakes her.
At least, that’s the excuse he offers when I ask him in one last time.
Sally offers a tired wave that he returns—fingers only, no full-hand wave that this cowboy is too cool for tonight.
I’m tempted to blow him a kiss and show a bit of leg, but the door to my townhouse opens, and I’m not prepared for Lanie to ask me those sorts of questions just yet.
Which is pot-and-kettle territory, really, because we were there with her and my brother and my nosy nose only a few months ago.
“You’re back,” she croaks, shielding her eyes from the streetlights, or any light, it looks like.
“Oh, fruitcakes.” Realization slams me way too late. I mentally slap myself for not recognizing the symptoms earlier. Hell, Cordell even told me about her migraines. “It wasn’t the people at Coyote that you were hiding from after all, was it?”
Lanie shrugs and cuddles Sally, who pats her like she’s on her deathbed and moves cautiously around her.
“I won’t explode, Sally,” Lanie mumbles. “The migraine has been gone for three days. Just don’t move too fast, okay?”
Sally freezes and then moves in an exaggerated moonwalk. “I’M GOING TO THE KITCHEN. OKAY, MOM?” she whisper-shouts, loud enough for the entire street to hear.
I close my eyes. “I’m so sorry. My paramedic head should have worked out that pregnancy migraines were a thing and that’s why you weren’t talking to me for so long.”
Lanie waves the hand shielding her eyes. “It’s okay. You need to say goodbye to whoever brought you back?” She might have a migraine, but my bestie isn’t stupid by any means. I’m going to have to explain sometime.
“Oh. Yeah.” I dart back out and wave to West. He doesn’t move, just watches me. It’s both unsettling and leaves me feeling secure all at once. After a moment, he nods but still doesn’t move. I get the impression that’s where he’ll stay until the lights go out.
I bite my lip, knowing that the Miss Independence roiling through me should snark him a new one for that, but… I’m okay with it.
Sally grabs the cold chicken burger that Lanie hands her, eating on the go as she disappears into her bedroom. I’m too tired to tell her not to eat in there, and I get the feeling she’s not going to emerge anytime soon.
“Ten going on thirty, and she just had her birthday.” I study Sally’s closed door, the weight of my family, the week, and everything that’s happened settling on me as reality opens before me.
A future I don’t understand. One that I haven’t ever planned for.
“Hey, it’s okay not to know.” Lanie the mind reader is here to talk it out, even in her state of recovery.
I swing about on her. “You scared the shit out of me.” This is a two-way door. I should let it go, but I can’t.
“I scared the shit out of everyone. I’m sorry.” Lanie doesn’t crumple, her waist-length red hair knotted into a messy bun on top of her head. “How’s Cord?”
“Annoying as all get out. He’s in the cleanup zone. Baby mode hasn’t reentered his head yet. You might need to give him permission for that. You know what he’s like.”
She nods and winces. “Yeah, I do.”
I grimace my sympathy. “Have you picked out a room for the little one? Because once you start, that will become his new hyperfocus project. Be ready. My brother has resources, drive, and an endless budget.”
Lanie groans and lowers herself to the sofa, which creaks under her weight. One hand goes to her belly, the other to her brow.
I pace in semicircles near her, letting my bags drop to the floor. “What do you need? Has anything happened? Is the baby okay? When are your next scans?”
Lanie holds out a hand. “Winnie, please. I need…”
I bounce on my toes. “Food? I can do food. Not warmed-up shit. That’s gross and very unhealthy.”
“Winnie,” Lanie croaks. “I need you to stop.” She pats the sofa seat beside her. It creaks again. “Come sit with me for a bit. That would be nice.”
My eyes narrow as I perch beside her, my feet tucked away beneath me. “Are you… lonely?”
Her nose twitches. A classic Lanie tell. “I miss my family,” she whispers. For the girl who claims she has no family, that’s a lot. A lot like West, actually.
Then the tears fall, and we’re hugging.
I pat her all over, like my daughter did earlier, just with a touch less caution since Lanie doesn’t seem to mind. “Baby seems okay. How have you been, here on your own?”
Lanie shrugs. “I received a few weird phone calls, and a massive migraine that won’t. Freaking. Quit. And I pee every hour or two, I swear. Other than that, I’m fine. How are you? How’s Cord? And West and Billy? And… and…” She frowns.
“Meds and baby brain must suck, huh?” The memory of brain fog—that fun little oxymoron—never goes away.
“I miss…” She frowns. “I miss being around everyone, but I can’t deal with the pressure of Cord right now. Or maybe that’s unfair, and it’s the event that was the pressure.” She grabs a pillow and throws it across the room. The cushion joins a pile that’s knee-high and rainbow-colored.
“Wow. That’s some therapy-grade frustration at your not-yet husband right there.” I place two more pillows in her hands. She smiles up at me through her tears as I rise. “I understand, though. He is my brother, after all. Tell me what you want me to cook and it’s yours. For as long as I’m home.”
“Really? I mean… I’ve been on a takeout thing. For the last three nights, I’ve eaten a ton of spring rolls,” Lanie confesses.
And I’m Kermit-colored by her metabolism in an instant.
“Not seeing it on you a bit,” I reassure her, patting my own hips. “Mind if I join you? I guess I’m getting soup. I’ll call a driver I know, ’kay?”
Lanie nods and slides sideways on the sofa, clutching the pillows I gave her. Red hair tumbles free of her messy bun, and her eyes are shut before I slip back out the front door to my townhouse to contact my takeout driver.
The driver who is conveniently still on the street, exactly where I expect him to be.
“Can you do a spring-roll-and-soup run for Lanie, pretty please?” I AirDrop an order to West’s phone. “Thanks.”
“Is that all?”
I send cash as well. “All done now.”
His hand shoots out to grip my waist, pulling me into him. “You know you don’t need to do that with me, Winnie. I meant what I said when I asked what else you needed. I’ll get groceries for you as well.”
My chest closes. The oxygen in the air is replaced by the scent of Montana mountain petrichor, every time he’s near.
“You don’t have to do anything for me,” I squeak, pressing my hands to his chest in an attempt to disengage.
Was he always this big? He was always this big.
For whatever reason, West back in the city seems more humongous than ever, unreasonably so. “I can do my own shopping.”
“Your shift starts in seven hours,” he reminds me. “Sleep, Winnie.”
“It does? Wait, how do you know that?” Do I have a uniform washed? Shit, shit, shit. I don’t. I know I don’t. How’s that for no forward planning? Fail.
“Because when you AirDropped me your order, you also paired your calendar to mine. Thanks for that.” The corner of his mouth moves.
“Seriously? Was that a smile, another one?” I waggle my eyebrows at him.
“I’m not sleeping. Tell me what you need.”
I nibble my lip. “Can I AirDrop that to you too?”
West’s hands close hard on my waist. “When Lanie leaves, we’re having a talk, Rand. Just you and me. Clear?”
“Yes.” I nod, knowing he’s about to leave and I am, indeed, in the clear. “Sir.”
He growls and crushes my mouth beneath his. “Get inside. I’ll leave once that door is locked.”
Dammit. My happy bubble pops. “Fuck. I forgot.” My dozy eyes fly open.
“It’s okay to forget. That’s part of healing, Winnie.” His hold loosened, one hand rising to skate along my ribs and over my collarbone. “Lock the door. I’ll be back soon.”
“’Kay,” I murmur.
His grin is so swift that it’s gone before I truly register it. And as I pull the door to my townhouse shut a second time, it hits me that West used to smile a whole lot more. Even when my brother was hurting. So when did he stop?