23. Storm
I’m lying awake on Friday morning, my fifth day waking up on the ranch and I’ve got a feeling the girls were right that day when they helped me pack up some things—I’m not going to want to go back.
And I know Max is counting on me choosing to stay.
Especially since he gets an extra fifteen minutes of sleep every morning and we’re not rushing to get something to eat.
Wes insists we stop at The Shack before heading to school in the mornings and he has breakfast and lunch ready to go for Max.
I told him to quit with the special treatment, but he argued that he feeds everyone on the ranch—why should Max be any different? That and he’d be offended if I chose school lunches over his custom-crafted menu.
I haven’t seen Silas since he left me in the small barn on Tuesday. With my heart and panties in his pocket.
Kept true to his word, he’s staying away.
And hell, I miss him.
It’s a warning, this tug in my heart. A reminder of why I asked him to stay away to begin with. Not just the attachment. But my secret.
But that was all before he told me what happened that night.
The thought triggers a memory.
My parents never told me Silas came looking for me. Sure, they were mad I ran off to that party, but why hadn’t it ever come up later?
I pick up the phone and call Wilder.
“Mornin’. You’re up early.”
“Hey boss, got a favor to ask. Is it all right if I head out around noon today, need to run an errand before picking up Max.”
There’s a pause before I hear him shuffling papers. “Uh . . . sure. I could shift some things around. Everything all right?”
I wince. “I’m sorry, I know it’s last minute. I’m fine, but I want to go see my dad over at the facility in Denver.”
“Ah, you’re in luck, Rose is headed over there today. She could take you.”
I release a breath. “That would be amazing.” Especially since I’m skeptical about my truck getting me there in one piece these days.
“I’ll let her know. How’s he doing anyway? Any news?”
“No progress last I checked, but thank you, I’ll find out more today.”
“Send him our best.”
I grin appreciatively even if Dad won’t be sending the same. “I will.”
My weekly visits have been like clockwork since he first moved into Denver Hospital’s long-term care facility.
But between my work schedule and the time it takes to get here, I haven’t been able to make adjustments to the days I visit, the amount of time I spend there, and how often I bring Max. This just had to work.
Fluorescent lights hum overhead as I step out of the elevator and head to his private room.
The smell of citrus cleaner and pungent disinfectants fill my senses.
It’s quieter here than the common room downstairs, which is where they recommend Dad spend most of his days.
But he’d rather be in his room, watching re-runs of old TV shows he and Mom used to watch.
I slow when I reach his door. It’s open as usual, and I hear him before I see him. His voice rough with irritation. His usual nurse stands at his bedside.
“Whose piss is that?”
“Tom, it’s apple juice, you know that.”
“I asked for coffee.”
“I heard you, but you’re getting apple juice or water. You’re allowed one cup of coffee a day.”
“You mean that shot glass you handed me earlier, Bridgett?”
She shakes her head and turns to the door.
“And I could put my own damn socks on, you know?” he calls after her.
She steps out and gives me a smile. “Hi, Storm.”
I quietly mouth an I’m sorry and she pats my shoulder. “He’ll be happy to see you. Can I get you anything?”
“I’m all right, thank you.” Far more than you know. I offer her a smile and step inside. “Hey, Dad.”
He huffs out a tired breath. “They call you?”
“I’m just here to check on you, Dad,” I partially lie, feeling guilty about it.
He grumbles. “Hand me that remote.”
I pass it to him and he shuts off the TV. “How’s Max? Been a while since you brought him by.”
“I know. I will. Maybe next week?”
He nods, watching me. “What is it? Is it bad? They tell ya I’m not going to make it through the year?”
“Actually, no. They said your heart’s doing well.” I glance over at the machine they’ve got him hooked up to.
He grumbles. “No, that can’t be right. They were planning to move me to a shared room just a month ago and all of a sudden, I’m staying here—figured since they thought I’d be kicking the bucket soon, they’d save me the trouble.”
“They were going to move you? When?”
He doesn’t answer.
“Dad, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s more money to keep me in a private room, Storm.”
The words hit hard because I can’t take care of him the way I should. “I’m sorry, Dad. I’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“Well, it’ll come up again soon.” He glances up at me. “How’s the job?”
“Work’s great, actually.” I avoid telling him about our temporary move to a guest cottage. “The boys send their best.”
He adjusts in his bed, pretending not to hear me.
“I know you heard me, Dad.”
He grumbles. “Aren’t you working today?”
“Yes. But I needed to talk.” I take a seat and then immediately stand, suddenly nervous.
“Dad, what happened between you and Connor?” I spent half the ride over here trying to figure out why he never told me about Silas coming to see me—and the only thing I could come up with was his falling-out with Connor.
“I told you, we had a disagreement.”
“About what?”
“What does it matter?” he mumbles, then looks at me. “What’d they tell you?”
“Nothing, Dad. No one has anything but great things to say about your friendship all those summers. You’re the only one who’s coming out hateful.”
“Hateful?” he howls. “Easy for him to say—it wasn’t his daughter on the line.” He holds my eyes for a beat then turns away.
I sit down. Trying to consider how I got involved. “It was me?” My chest constricts. “Did I do something they didn’t like?”
Somehow I wouldn’t believe that, not judging by the way they’ve treated me this past year. Considering me family.
“No.” He shakes his head, earnestly, voice calmer. “They all loved you.”
I swallow. “Silas.”
He looks over but doesn’t hold my eyes.
“He said he came looking for me that night.”
“What night?”
“You know what night, Dad,” I snap, then immediately settle down. “The night I got pregnant.”
“I don’t remember.”
“Dad.”
“Yes, he came by the house. And it didn’t matter that he thought he had his shit together—you still deserved better.”
My heart shatters as more of this comes to light and I’m breathless. “Better than what I got?” I try not to yell. Dad’s weak heart is still on my mind, but I can’t help the crack in my voice.
He tosses his hands up in the air. “How was anyone to know that’d happen? Your mother and I were doing the best we could to keep you safe. That boy was nothing but trouble.”
“What did you say to him?” The desperation in my voice is demanding and its years of insecurities, feeling alone and worthless building in my throat.
“What does it matter now, Storm?”
“Because he’s back. And we’ve been spending time together and he’s so good with Max and me and . . . I’m scared.” I know my words don’t make sense to him, but he doesn’t seem to question it.
There’s a beat of silence as he stares at his hands. “Heard he’s injured.”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
He looks up at me. “Injured players get better, Storm.”
I don’t answer as I stare back at him.
He shifts his gaze away. “Fine. I’ll tell you what I can remember.” He considers it for a moment. “Which time?”
“What—what do you mean? There were other times?”
I don’t know how long I sat with him after he told me everything. That the falling-out between him and Connor was about Silas and me getting close. After I went out to the lake with him and his friends and got pneumonia—which could have happened to literally anyone in any winter.
But I didn’t leave him after that. I wanted to make sure he was okay. That my need for the truth didn’t set him back somehow.
I sat there feeling both enraged and selfish until Rose texted me she was on her way back to pick me up.
“I’ll see you later, Dad. Get some rest. I’ll bring Max over next week?”
He nods. “Storm?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he know?”
I shake my head.
He nods again. “I think about that night all the time. If I’d told him you were at that party, he’d have gone back and maybe—your life could have been different.”
I repeat his earlier protest. “No one could have known that.” I smile softly.
He picks up his remote, no longer looking at me. “You going to tell him?”
I look back and shake my head. “I don’t know.”
Before I leave, I make sure to stop at the nurse’s desk to let her know about my conversation with Dad and to keep an eye on him.
“Family drama, got it,” Bridgett says. “I’ll up his rounds tonight and tomorrow.”
“Thank you. Oh, and he said something about moving him to a shared room? Do I need to talk to the billing department? Increase monthly payments?” I’m sure that’s what this is about.
“Payments?” Her fingers move across her keyboard. “Oh no, you got that all squared away, love.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Not my department but doesn’t look like you’ve got a balance. The front desk can print a copy if you want. Unless he takes a turn for the worse and needs more intensive care, you’re not getting another bill.”
I’m quiet on the drive back and feel awful about it because Rose was nice enough to drop me off at the clinic and pick me up.
She reaches over and rubs my hand. “How bad is it?”
“Hmm?”
“Your dad.”
“Oh. He’s fine—unless I triggered a heart attack before I left.” I know I shouldn’t joke, but I’m both upset at myself for questioning him when he’s in no condition, and angry at him for messing with my life.
She glances at me between watching the road. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Turns out my dad’s responsible for Silas ghosting me all those years ago. The reason I lost my best friend. The reason I ended up . . .”
“Pregnant with Max?”
“I’m not so ignorant to blame my father for my mistake. But could you blame me for thinking things could have been different?”
She shrugs. “I don’t. Things would have absolutely been different for you. But not necessarily in that dreamy way you’re imagining.”
“What do you mean?”
“Who’s to say Silas wouldn’t have hurt you back then? Who’s to say you two wouldn’t have dated and suffered a terrible break-up?”
I glance to the side.
“It’s what I’ve always told Willow after every bad break-up. It wasn’t meant to be. This is your time. Dallas was her future all along—when they were both ready.”
Something in my chest pulls itself together. But the crack’s still there. I smile appreciatively at her. “You’re somethin’ else, Rose. Thank you.”
She shrugs, pleased with herself. “Or you could just keep running into him chest first until he notices you,” she giggles. “Worked for me.”