Chapter 38 Winnie
WINNIE
I’m a few minutes early to Huck’s and when Cathryn Cross walks in, there is no mistaking her.
She’s a mixture of elegance and the kind of rugged that comes from living in the Sierras, even though she resides in the city now.
She greets me with a hug, perfumed with lavender.
Her blue eyes are warm. The hazel must’ve come from Patton’s father.
She sits and says, “I’m so glad you could make it.”
“Thank you for inviting me.” I slide back into the booth across from her, trying not to fidget.
“I wanted to meet the woman making my son happy.” Her eyes twinkle. “Also, I heard about the Fireman’s Ball … and the bet.”
My face flames. “About that—”
She smiles. “Relax, dear. I’m not here to interrogate you. But I know you won the bet.”
“I—what?”
“You’re the reason he’s been smiling.”
I think about Patton at the Ball, his guard finally down, laughing with his crew. “Yes. I suppose I am, but—” I’m about to explain that it’s not really about that when Peggy, the waitress, comes over.
Coincidentally, Cathryn and I both order grilled cheese sandwiches.
After Peggy leaves, she grips her tea mug and leans in. “Can I tell you something about my son?”
“Please.”
“When Forbes died—that’s Patton’s father—I checked out.
Not just physically, but emotionally. I was so consumed by my grief that I didn’t see how much Patton was struggling.
” Her voice tightens. “He was twelve years old and he became the man of the house because I couldn’t function. That was too big a burden for him.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Learn from my mistake.” She meets my eyes. “When things get hard—and they will from time to time—don’t check out. Don’t run. Stay in the fight. Get back up. For yourself, for him, for the life you’re building together.”
“But what if—?” I stop myself, hearing Grandma and Mindy’s voices in my head. Then what Patton said about Captain Kendrick’s saying about when life crushes you … “What if I’m not strong enough?”
“You are. You moved to a new town, took on a leadership role, tried to single handedly save your family’s business, and fell in love with the most stubborn man in Nevada.” She smiles.
“How do you know all that?”
She gently taps my hand and says, “I’ll start at the beginning. I thought I was protecting Patton by not talking about Forbes. I was wrong. When he turned eighteen, I moved to Carson City, thinking getting away from Huckleberry Hill would help. New place, new start.”
“Did it?”
She looks fondly out the window at the mountains. “My address changed. Nothing else did.”
I think about how close I came to driving away.
After taking a sip of tea, Cathryn continues, “Judy Waples calls me every Sunday. Has for years. Keeps me updated on everything—the gossip, the town, Patton.”
“And the Great Brownie Battle?”
She laughs. “That too.”
“And us, Patton and me, I assume?”
She laughs. “Absolutely.”
I kind of want to hide under the table.
She continues, “It took me over twenty years, but I’m finally seeing a therapist and dealing with losing Forbes.
And you know what I realized? I miss this place and my son.
The future he’s creating. I thought coming back would be unbearable.
” She meets my eyes. “Turns out, this town is home. Always was.”
Our lunch arrives and I take a bite of my sandwich as Cathryn continues. “I think this is your home too.”
“Thanks,” I say, having more to think about.
We shift to lighter topics—her work as a photographer, my job with Parks & Rec, and the Fireman’s Ball. By the time lunch ends, I feel like I’ve gained not just Patton’s mother’s approval, but a friend.
“One more thing,” she says as we’re leaving. “Forbes would have loved you. You’re exactly the kind of woman he’d want for his son—someone who sees past the tough outer shell to the heart underneath.”
I hug her goodbye, tears threatening again. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for loving my boy. Now go tell him that before he completely loses his mind.”
Shortly after, when I pull up to Grandma’s cottage, she hastily closes the cabinet that houses all of her photo albums, looking oddly guilty.
“Welcome back,” she says too cheerfully. “How was lunch?”
“Good. Great, actually.” I narrow my eyes. “Why do you look like you’re hiding something?”
“Me? Hiding something? Never.”
“Grandma.”
“Fine. Patton stopped by.”
My heart lurches. “He what?”
“While you were having your clandestine meeting with his mother, we had a chat.” She grins. “He wanted to hear more embarrassing stories about you.”
I feel pale. “You didn’t.”
“I absolutely did. Showed him your second-grade school photo with the missing front teeth and the unfortunate bowl haircut.”
“Grandma!”
“He thought you looked adorable. His words, not mine. Also, your parents called. They want to rent the cottage.”
I blink, trying to keep myself from having conversational whiplash. “What cottage?”
“The rental property, sweetheart. They’re selling their house in Reno and want to take a proper vacation while they figure out their next steps. Aside from the trips to Italy to visit your father’s family, they haven’t taken a real vacation in thirty-five years.”
Realization hits me. “They never just … relaxed.” Tragically, I relate.
“Well, they’re going to now and your Nonna too. We’ll bring her to bingo night.”
“Just do not let her get involved with the Great Brownie Battle.”
“I can’t make any promises.” Grandma pats my hand. “But I have a feeling everything is working out, sweetheart.”
I just hope she’s right.
After a shower, I change into fresh clothes—jeans and a soft yellow shirt Patton once said makes me look like springtime—and stare at myself in the mirror.
You can do this. Just show up. Tell him the truth. Don’t run.
I grab the enamel Gus the squirrel pin I got as a prototype for the Fire & Ice Fest. I tuck the ridiculous tiny chickaree squirrel with a firefighter helmet in my pocket.
A couple leaves the bakery when I arrive. Patton stands behind the counter, arranging trays in the display case. He looks up when I enter, and his expression shifts from surprise to relief to something I can’t quite name.
“Hi.” I close the door behind me, suddenly nervous.
“I thought I saw you leaving this morning and I thought—”
“That I was running away?”
He comes around the counter, and I inhale his cedar and woodsmoke scent over the butter and sugar of the bakery.
He nods. “It crossed my mind.”
“I almost did. Packed a bag, got in my car, full dramatic exit planned.”
“What stopped you?”
“Grandma Joyce, my mom, Mindy, a certain Mrs. Cross, and the realization that I’ve spent my whole life doing things on my own because asking for help scares me. But mostly, you. We passed each other on Route 50.” I take a breath.
His eyes search mine. “Winnie, that was the lowest point of the last twenty-four hours. I thought I lost you.”
I shake my head. “Nothing about us makes sense—we started as enemies, secretly each made a bet, argued about everything, and somehow fell in love in the middle of it all.”
He’s smiling now, just slightly. “Keep going.”
“I’m not scared of loving a firefighter, Patton. I’m only scared of not loving you.” I hold up the enamel pin. “This is for your jacket. For good luck. So you always know the whole town is with you on calls. That I’m with you.”
He takes the pin, studying it. “A squirrel in a fireman’s hat.”
“The town mascot. It’s either sweet or weird. I haven’t decided.”
He chuckles, then sets it on the counter. “It’s something I’ll always treasure.” He cups my face in his hands. “I have things I need to say. Things I need to ask you. But first—”
And then he’s kissing me.
When our mouths meet, it’s not desperate like in the first aid room. Not uncertain like our almost-kisses. This is a promise, a beginning, a choice made with full knowledge of the risks and full commitment to taking them, anyway.
His hands slide into my hair. Mine grip his shirt, pulling him closer. The bakery disappears. The world narrows to this moment, this man, this choice to stop running and start living.
When we reluctantly pull apart, we’re both breathless, and he’s beaming.
I laugh through happy, misty eyes. “With that smile, Lieutenant Cross, I might need to start wearing sunglasses.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “Get used to it.”
“Is that a threat or a promise?”
“Both.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “Winnie, I love you. I love your sticky notes and your optimism and the way you see the best in people, even when they don’t deserve it—that would be me.
I love that you tried to save your family’s restaurant and that you made peace between feuding grandmas. I love—”
“Patton.” I press my finger to his lips. “I love you too. All of you. Even the cocky and grouchy parts.”
“I’m not grouchy or cocky.”
“It can be extreme, but it’s one of your best features.”
He laughs, arms circled around my waist, and kisses me again. His desire matches all of the want that I’ve been holding back. Then it shifts, turns softer, sweeter, like we have all the time in the world.
His arms tighten around me, pulling me flush against him. Mine wrap around his neck in response.
As the movement of our lips finds a rhythm, goes off script, and then loops around again, Patton’s fingers roam along my back, tracing the curve of my spine. Meanwhile, I memorize every detail of this moment—the butterflies, the intensity, our raging pulses.
When we break apart for air, I have no doubt that my eyes are dazed and wonder-filled.
His lips twist, amused by how wrecked we both are.
Tingles race across my skin everywhere we’re touching, and I realize I’m smiling too as I lean in to kiss him once more.
For the first time in months, maybe years, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Not running. Not hiding. Not trying to fix anything.
Just here. With him. Building something real.
Something that I am certain will last.