Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
BLUE
West and I barely spoke on the flight back.
Aside from a few quiet pleasantries such as thank you, excuse me, and are you warm enough, it was silence. Not the angry kind. Not even awkward.
But his hand never left me.
A warm palm on my thigh. A soft touch at my back. The gentle way he guided me by the curve of my elbow when we shuffled onto the plane. It tethered me to the moment, kept me grounded.
Everyone was exhausted, and the cabin stayed hushed for most of the flight. But between West and me, the silence felt heavier. Like something had been said without words. Or maybe something had happened that we weren’t ready to admit.
Regret. That was what it felt like radiating off him. Quiet, calm, and composed on the outside, but inside, I’d bet my life that he was unraveling.
If not for his touch, I might’ve fallen apart myself.
But how could I regret what happened? The spark between us, the truths we let slip, the way his mouth had claimed mine like we belonged to each other. None of that felt like a mistake.
As we stepped off the plane, West let go of my hand. His fingers dropped away without a word, and he stood off to the side while the others made their way down.
Marshal and Marcus were waiting by the cars, standing beside their respective SUVs. Behind them was an older sedan, and next to it stood a woman waving enthusiastically.
That’s when I spotted the little boy holding her hand and I knew it had to be Max, Jesse’s son.
He let go of the older woman and sprinted forward, running right past Jesse to launch himself into Easton’s arms.
“There’s my buddy!” Easton grinned, spinning him in a circle while Jesse stood to the side with a flat expression like maybe her feelings were hurt, but not really.
“I love you, Mommy!” Max called through his giggles, his arms flung wide.
The whole scene felt like a movie. A perfect moment caught in real life.
It made every story I’d ever heard about the Brooks family feel more real.
“Westley Brooks,” the older woman said as she approached.
“Ms. Ellison,” West replied, softening for the first time since we’d left our hotel room. “Good to see you.”
“It’s been too long,” she said, coughing lightly. “It would seem there has to be an emergency in town for you to show your face these days.”
“Something like that,” he winked and kissed her cheek.
I waited for him to introduce me but he never did. Instead, it was Gramps who stepped in to make introductions while West wandered off to thank the pilot.
Gramps and Ms. Ellison then returned to her car, where the rest of the family piled in. They were crammed in like sardines, laughing as if they didn’t have a care in the world.
When West returned to my side, I pointed toward my car and sighed. “Marshal and I could’ve taken them home,” I said. “We pass through town anyway.”
It was the first time I’d spoken about Marshal as though having a chauffeur wasn’t a big deal. He was just part of who I was now.
“Oh they love being weird,” West shrugged, then handed me a card, the same one he had given me before with his number on it.
I rolled my eyes and started to tell him I already had his number and wouldn’t be needing another fancy, overpriced piece of black card stock, but he flipped it over before I could speak. There were four digits scribbled on the back, barely legible.
“What’s this?”
“Marshal has the gate code,” West said. “But that’s the code to the lake house. It’ll open the front, the back, and the garage. Just in case you ever want to go.”
I should’ve felt grateful. But all I felt was hollow. It was such a thoughtful gesture, but it didn’t feel as though it had come from the man I had just kissed with wild abandon. A man who had nearly torn the clothes off my body hours earlier.
It felt formal. Professional. A gift you give to someone you don’t plan on seeing again.
“Thanks,” I said, tucking the card into my purse. “I’m going home to check on my dad.”
He nodded once, then placed a hand on my back and led me toward the SUV.
He opened the door for me, helped me inside, then closed it without another word.
Through the tinted window, I turned back to watch him walk toward his own car. He nodded to Marcus, climbed in, and just like that, our cars went in opposite directions.
I leaned back in my seat, the ache in my chest so loud it nearly echoed.
Marshal glanced at me in the rearview mirror, concern in his eyes but I gave him a weak wave. “I’m good.”
He nodded and turned his attention back to the road.
We passed through Harmony Haven, the heart of it still warm from the morning sun, and then out the other side into Pecan Grove.
When we pulled into my driveway, I remembered my car was still at Fiddlers, so instead of asking Marshal to leave, I told him I’d need a ride there after I checked on my dad.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, stepping out to open the door. “I’ll be right here when you’re ready.”
The house was quiet. My dad’s usual post by the front window, where he watched the street, was vacant. I stepped inside, sliding the ring off my finger and calling his name, but nothing came back.
The living room was spotless. Lisa’s handiwork, no doubt. A chocolate pie sat on the counter under a glass dome. Dad’s favorite. I slid my finger under the cover and swiped a bite.
Perfect. Damnit.
Still, I couldn’t shake the unease. I called out again and checked the back. His room was empty. The bathroom door stood wide open. I pulled out my phone, heart hammering.
Finally, on the third ring, he answered. “Hey, darling!”
“Dad, where are you?”
“Oh, Lisa and I went for a ride. You home already?”
“Yeah. Just walked in. I’ve got the rest of the day off.”
“Shit, I’m sorry. I would’ve let you know we were leaving, but I didn’t expect you till later. It’s barely two.”
“Yeah, we had to get back. West had to work and I was anxious to check on you.”
“Well, we’re thinking of having a late lunch at the diner on Fourth Street in Harmony Haven. You wanna join us?”
I almost said no. I didn’t want to share the little time I had with him with Lisa. But then I heard something in his voice I hadn’t heard in a long time—happiness. He was out. Living. Not waiting for me to guide him or worry about him.
It stung a little that he didn’t seem to need me.
But it also felt like a kind of freedom.
“I’ll be right there, Dad. Lunch sounds amazing.”
I grabbed my bag and stepped outside. Marshal stubbed out a cigarette as soon as he saw me and took a step forward to see what I needed.
“Dad’s at the diner,” I said. “I’m going to have lunch with him.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, opening the car door. There was something about the way he smiled, as if I’d finally accepted that he was there to take care of things, and no longer in danger of losing his job.
Dad and Lisa were waiting for me just inside the diner. Lisa stood to hug me like we were old friends, and I bent down to hug Dad before taking my seat.
“Well, look at you,” I teased, nudging Dad’s hand. “Out and about like it’s nothing.”
“She’s been driving me all over,” Dad grinned.
“I know it feels good,” I said, smiling. “We haven’t done that in a while.”
“You’ve been working so hard,” Dad added. “You always pretend to hate that place, but I know you love Fiddlers like it’s yours.”
“That’s what we should do,” Lisa chimed in. “Go to Fiddlers one night.”
It stopped me cold. He’d never seen me work.
Not since I was a teenager. And I’d never been able to take him because it was too busy, too chaotic, and there were too many reasons why it wasn’t safe.
But now? The thought of him sitting at the bar he used to drink at, now with me behind it, making sure his beer was cold and his table was reserved?
That sounded like healing. With Lisa, it was possible.
Conversation flowed from there. I told them about the trip.
How my first flight was on a private jet and no one blocked my path to the bathroom.
I also threw in all the fun we had at my first concert.
Then I told them about the beach, the food, and the dolphins.
Lisa put her hand to her heart when I described them, saying she’d always loved dolphins but had never seen them in person.
She and Dad had been listening to Loxley Adams on their drive and said they fell in love with her music. I made a mental note to ask Loxley for an autograph if I ever saw her again. Something small to give Lisa, to thank her for taking such good care of my dad.
But then reality settled in again.
I probably wouldn’t see Loxley again. I wasn’t actually part of that family. And that thought sat heavier than I wanted it to.
Still, I smiled. I let it go. And I stayed in that booth, soaking up the one moment that actually felt simple.