Chapter 3
Chapter Three
WHITNEY
“Whitney! Whitney, wait!” Vivienne cries as I launch myself from the passenger-side door.
She insisted that she drive, even though I begged her and Brinley to stay at her apartment.
I don’t turn back, because I know she won’t bring my little girl out here.
I push my legs as hard as I can until my lungs are burning and my muscles are aching.
How? How, how, how, how?
That's all I can think of. All I can breathe as I get closer to the smoke. The flames that had seemed so daunting on the screen are down to embers now. Heat still radiates as black smoke fades to white. I shove past body after body, pushing my way to the front of the crowd. There are first responders everywhere I look. Men and women in blue, trying to control the chaos of the crowd and the fire. I reach the front of the crowd where multiple officers have ushered the townspeople back. I don’t hesitate to take the distraction of a fellow patron asking the closest officer a question to duck under the yellow caution tape.
I get a sharp “Hey!” in return. I ignore them.
Two massive fire trucks are nose-to-nose, creating a V-shape directly in front of the coffee shop and my apartment.
Firefighters move around the building like shadows through smoke.
Ash litters the glossy red of the engines.
Sirens pierce the still air, their lights flashing like a heartbeat against the scorched structure behind them.
Some hoses lie limp, dripping onto the earth, while others spray against the lingering flames with a roaring hiss.
A beast of a machine, built to fight, to save, to rush in when everything is falling apart.
But it had come too late.
I go to step between the two overly large red engines when a tall, broad man steps into view. He catches me by the arm. Not rough, but enough to make me pause. “Ma’am you can’t go in there.”
I pull against his grip, but the man doesn’t relent.
Seeing the intent in my eyes, he reaches up, tugging at his helmet until it slides off.
It takes me a second, but I recognize him.
Brown hair, brown eyes. The slight accent that slips through when he speaks.
I grit my teeth. “Get the hell out of my way, Eddie.”
His jaw visibly tightens as he looks me over, head to toe. “Whitney-”
I finally snap, cutting him off with a sharp tug. “No!” I jab my finger at the black-charred building behind us. “This is mine. My shop. My home.”
His face softens at my words and that’s the only thing that stops me from brushing past him. I know what bad news looks like, and something tells me he’s about to split my world in two. “There’s nothing you can do. You will only make things worse if you try to go in there.”
My stomach drops. “H-how bad is it?” Desperation rises in my throat like bile, every word I utter coming out a little more broken than the next.
The firefighter, Eddie, shuffles, tucking the helmet underneath his arm as he stares down at me with furrowed brows.
“Everything is…gone. Nothing was salvageable. I’m sorry. ”
Everything is gone. Everything is…
God, those words. Those three words. They echo and bounce in every direction. The fire burning before me is nothing compared to the wave of nausea punching through my chest. My legs wobble, and the world tilts–sky, fire, and smoke all blurring at the edges of my vision.
Everything I’ve built for myself, for Brinley, is gone in an instant.
My knees finally give out, and the ground rushes up to meet me, too fast and too hard for the man before me to try and catch me.
But arms from behind do, and they fall with me, as if gravity decided we’d go down as one.
And that smell–overpowering the fire and smoke–is a familiar one.
Leather and wood. Whiskey and mint. Wyatt’s voice wraps around me at the same time his arms do.
“Hey. Just breathe. Just breathe, okay?”
But how? How can I? I can feel it. The smoke wraps around me like a vice. It clings to my hair, my skin, my lungs. It’s a never-ending swarm of smoke, and it feels like I’m in the thick of it. Too many things, too many feelings, too fast.
But I try. I hone in on his voice. His familiar, comforting voice full of midnight promises and silk-clad sheets. I blink a couple of times, finally locating his blue eyes in the chaos. “Good.” He nods, scanning my face. “That’s good. Eyes on me. Just keep those eyes on me.”
I nod along with him, trying to match my breathing to the rise and fall of his chest. It works. I know because I find myself breathing a little easier, and my surroundings don’t seem quite as hazy. Is this what a panic attack feels like?
When my chest slows, and my breaths even out enough for him, he pivots his head to look me over. “Are you okay? You hurt?”
“N-no.” I choke out, “I wasn’t here.”
“Brinley?”
“She’s with Viv.”
His shoulders dip in relief, and I glance over to find my car still in the same spot. He follows my gaze and doesn’t hesitate to adjust us so that one arm wraps around my back and the other under my knees. “Let’s get you out of here.”
I don’t protest as he picks me up like I’m a rag doll, because I’m not sure my legs are strong enough to carry myself out of here.
I nuzzle my neck between his collar and jaw, reveling in the familiarity of him.
His long strides get us back to the car in what feels like seconds.
A panic attack. And shock. This must be what shock feels like.
Soon enough, I’m back in the seat that brought me here and securely buckled in.
I wrap my arms around myself, as if holding my ribs could somehow keep me from falling apart.
A lullaby blares through the speakers while Brinley softly snores from the back seat. I think Vivienne asks me something, but I don’t hear anything other than Wyatt’s gruff, “Take them to the Ranch. I’ll be right behind you.”
I dry my hair with an overly fluffy white towel as I sit across from Wyatt on his couch, in his living room, which I’ve never seen before. I try not to gawk at the tidiness and layout of the house as Brinley plays with a TV remote on the carpet between us.
It’s massive. I’ve seen it from afar, but never up close like this.
The overly ornate outdoor fireplace instantly caught my eye as we walked up the long driveway. Nestled just a few feet from the front door, it’s composed of various colored stones that look like they've been there for decades and stacked high with freshly cut wood.
A rich walnut color consumes the porch. The floorboards, railings, and rocking chairs match the house's paneling perfectly.
Tall, wide windows encase the entire house, only interrupted here and there by slivers of wall space.
A long porch swing, made to fit maybe three or four people, hangs just near the edge that faces the ranch.
There’s no railing on that side, as if it were specifically structured so you’d have plenty of room to swing back and forth.
It’s a dream. The kind that screams family and endless backyard barbecues. I can practically see the steam rolling off a morning coffee pot and smell the freshly baked sourdough wafting from the kitchen window as the kids run around in the yard.
It's the kind of dream that I so desperately want for Brinley, but I’m so far from grasping. Especially now.
Wyatt lives here. All alone. The idea is sad, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s always looked this way, or if Wyatt added a few touches after his dad’s passing.
It didn’t take long for reality to seep back in when we got to Buddie’s ranch.
Vivienne had to rush off to deal with a dog suffering from smoke inhalation, but promised she’d be back as soon as possible.
Wyatt started a shower for me shortly after and grabbed Brinley a snack while I busied myself with a very hot and very long shower.
I’m now clad head-to-toe in Wyatt’s clothes.
The grey sweatpants are three sizes too big.
I had to roll them a couple of times to get them to stay.
The sweatshirt envelopes me just as completely.
The sleeves hang past my fingertips and the hem brushes my thighs.
I was a little too relieved when I didn’t see any feminine products in the bathroom, but his scent now lingers on the clothes I wear and on my skin from the shower.
Any other time, it may have been… welcoming.
But now? Now, Wyatt and I have been having the same argument for the past twenty minutes, and I would do just about anything to get as far as humanly possible from this man.
His tousled chestnut curls are a shade darker than I remember, and slightly shorter too, just barely brushing the collar of his blue shirt.
Ridiculously perfect lips. A tattoo peeks up from his wrist where his sleeve is tugged up.
A neatly trimmed beard frames his chiseled jawline.
But it’s his eyes that make Wyatt the kind of man who turns heads without trying.
A blue so piercing they’re blinding. Impossible to look away from, and far too easy to get lost in.
He’s huge. His arms, his shoulders, his thighs, his hands.
Without trying, Wyatt Conway sucks up the air in any space he’s in, so much so that it makes it hard to breathe.
He exudes confidence and quiet intensity, and I’m not sure he even realizes it.
I don’t realize I’m outright drooling until an awkward, rough cough cuts through the space between us.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, being the first to break our silent staring contest. “I–we can’t stay with you. ”
“You can. And you will. There’s plenty of space at the ranch.”
I shake my head. “I can stay with my sister.”
“She doesn’t have the space,” Wyatt argues. “I do.”
“I have no way to pay you.” I force myself to look at him. So that he can see the plea in my eyes. So that he can understand why this isn’t possible. “Not right now.”
Aside from the fact that I have nothing to offer him in return for letting us stay, we had…
something. Before the fire. Before Brinley.
That complicates things, whether he wants to admit it or not.
I cut ties with him quickly after finding out I was pregnant.
Maybe if I had told him from the start, if we had continued down the path we were headed, he would have followed me.
But I couldn’t bring myself to put him through something so life-changing.
Especially not when I had zero clue how to navigate such new territory, let alone a new relationship at the same time.
Plus, he’s older than me. If he wanted to settle down or have kids, I’m sure he already would have.
I let him go for all of our sakes. It was the smart thing to do.
Just like now, I know taking him up on this offer is the most logical thing to do.
When the firefighters said everything was gone, they truly meant everything was gone.
All of our personal items. Brinley’s clothes and toys.
The shop’s furniture and equipment. Nothing survived.
I still don’t have any answers on what caused the fire.
It’s an “ongoing” investigation. Whatever that means.
Blake would take us in a heartbeat, but she already has her hands full with Elain and the therapeutic center.
Vivienne’s apartment could work for maybe a day or two, but it would quickly become uncomfortable with all three of us there.
I can’t ask my parents for help. So, where does that leave us?
In a hotel I can’t afford? On the side of the road?
I bite my lip, mulling over all my thoughts. “I don’t want a handout, Conway.” I don’t miss the way he tracks the movement before shaking his head and looking up at the ceiling.
“It’s not,” he attempts to assure me.
“Sounds a lot like a handout.” Can we even handle being so close? Living under the same roof? Can I handle it? He doesn’t seem bothered, and a part of my ego, deep, deep down, stings at the revelation.
“Fine.” He wipes a hand over his mouth like he’s trying to conceal a sigh. “Work for me. I have a horse or two that needs some training, and in turn, you can stay with me and make a little extra cash. Just until you guys get back on your feet.”
I eye him skeptically. “That doesn’t sound like a fair trade. We don’t even like each other half the time.”
It’s true. Our relationship is complicated. We’re either fighting or pretending like the other doesn’t exist. It’s a whirlwind of confusion I’ve never learned to navigate.
“Take it or leave it, Winnie.”
I cringe, shooting a glare his way. “Do not call me that.”
“Why?” He shrugs, cocking his head at me. “It’s fitting. You’re about as cuddly as the bear.”
An insufferable smirk coats his features, and a steady quiet blankets us.
I take a few moments, studying him. Then my eyes shift to Brinley, and I soften.
As much as I hate this situation, and as much as I hate relying on anyone for any sort of help, I have to do this for her.
It’s the only way we survive. Maybe he and I won’t see that much of each other with work in the way.
Maybe, just maybe, this can work. “I’d have to find someone to watch Brinley. ”
“My mom would be more than happy to take her during the week.” He shrugs like it’s a given, and I have to refrain from rolling my eyes.
“You just have a solution for everything, don’t you?”
His feral grin tells me everything I need to know. The two of us under one roof…
What could possibly go wrong?