Chapter Twenty-Five
Where in the hell is Willa?
It’s closing in on two o’clock, and she’s still not home yet. I got back a couple of hours ago. She did tell me she’d be back in time for us to spend the afternoon together, right?
Yep, she did.
So what is up?
At first, I wasn’t too worried. I figured she just got caught up taking photos. Or, maybe there were other people at the lighthouse, and she lost track of time talking with them.
But that seemed unlikely.
That’s why I started texting and trying to call her a short while ago. I hate to be a nagging boyfriend, but too much time is passing.
Not to mention, I’m not getting any response.
Willa isn’t answering her phone…or replying to my texts.
That’s it.
Now I’m panicking.
Grabbing up the key fob, I run out of the house and hop into the Jeep.
As I race over to the lighthouse, all I can think about is shit like What if she ran into a bad character?
Or what if she’s hurt?
I’ll die if something has happened to her.
I fucking love that girl.
Fuck, I should’ve told her that a long time ago.
When I reach the lighthouse, I jump out of the car and race over to the entrance.
Swinging open the door, I call out, “Willa? Willa? Are you in here?”
It takes a few seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dim interior.
When they do, I gasp.
Willa is lying at the base of the staircase, her phone on the ground next to her, and she is knocked out cold.
Holy fuck!
I race over to her and drop to my knees. “Willa, sweetheart…” I place her head on my lap and feel a big knot on the back. At least there’s no blood. But still, I cry out, “Oh my God, please be all right. Please wake up. Please”
Willa stirs a little, then begins to come to.
“Shane?” she whispers as her eyes flicker open.
I let out a relieved breath that at least she’s conscious now. Still, she most likely has a concussion. I know that from playing hockey all of my life. I’ve had a couple myself, so I’m aware of how important it is that we seek medical attention.
As I take out my phone and dial 9-1-1, I say, “Yes, it’s me, babe.”
“Where am I?” she asks groggily.
“You’re at the lighthouse. You must’ve fallen and gotten knocked out. But I’m here now. You’re going to be okay. I’m calling an ambulance.”
When the dispatcher picks up, I apprise them of the situation and where we are. They tell me they’ll send help right away.
Overcome with emotion, Willa starts to cry. “Shane,” she chokes out, “thank you so much for coming to look for me. Part of the railing gave way, and I got tripped up on a step and fell.”
“Sweetheart.” I gently smooth back her hair from her face to soothe her. “Don’t think about it. You’re going to be fine. And of course I’ll always come look for you. Do you know why?”
“Why?” she asks, her tears subsiding.
I’m not scared or hesitant anymore. I realize now that you should never hold back on what you feel in your heart.
So, with a smile, I tell her, “Because I love you.”
She blinks twice. “You do?”
Chuckling, I reiterate, “I sure do. I love you with all of my heart.”
She reaches up and touches my face. “Shane, I love you too. So freaking much.”
I have to say, even with all of this going on, my heart soars.
Softly, I mutter, “Babe.”
Sighing and lowering her hand, she says, “There is one thing, though.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I wanted to say it first. I was going to tell you today once I got home. I decided that earlier here at the lighthouse.” She frowns. “Before I fell, that is.”
With a smile, I tell her, “It doesn’t matter who said it first. As long as we finally got it out there, right?”
She smiles back at me. “Yes, you’re right.”
A siren blares in the background, inching closer and closer. “That must be the ambulance,” I say.
With a pout, Willa asks, “Do I really have to go to the hospital? I mean, I feel much better now, especially since I know you love me.”
“I do, and that’s sweet, but absolutely, yes, you have to go. You need to be checked out, Willa. You were clearly knocked out for a while, so I’m sure you have a concussion.”
“Okay.” She nods once. “You’re right. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“For sure.”
I have to stand up then, as two paramedics need to get in to secure Willa to a stretcher. It’s such a tight squeeze that I’m asked to step outside and wait there. Still, I make sure to pick up her phone from the floor before I leave the lighthouse.
When they bring Willa out, she grabs my hand, making them stop. “Can you come with me?” she asks.
“Sir, not in the ambulance,” one paramedic says. “There’s not enough room. You can follow us to the hospital, though, if you’d like.”
If I’d like?
Are they kidding?
I’m going wherever my girl is going, damn it.
I don’t say all of that to them, though. I just agree to follow.
Willa lets go of my hand, and I tell her, “I’ll see you at the hospital, okay? I’ll be right behind you.”
“All right.”
She’s loaded into the ambulance, and I get into my Jeep.
Then we’re off.