Thirty One
February Twenty-sixty
Whitney
Whitney was set up at home with the help of Brittanya and Fade. Thanks to Brittanya’s support, Fade was able to work part-time while still helping care for her. Wolfgang had even updated the house’s keypad to grant Fade access. Which surprised him, considering Wolfgang had gotten that privilege almost a year ago for a much shorter stay.
Juniper stopped by a few days a week to bring Whitney lunch, and even Shianne came over with Elodie to provide some distraction, until Whitney would fake being sleepy just to get Shianne to leave.
Fade had been nothing short of an angel. He helped her roll over at night, get up to use the bathroom any time of day, and fetched whatever food she wanted, no matter how inconvenient.
She was set to return to work part-time next week. Fade reassured her they’d installed security cameras on the upper floor and since he’d done the job himself, she actually believed it. But the pain still lingered. Every twist and turn hurt, especially when getting out of bed with stitches in her backside.
When she got home from the hospital, she’d learned her "suicide watch" nurse was none other than Brittanya's mom. That connection explained a lot. On the day of her follow-up, Brittanya stayed home to help her mom with the visit. Whitney heard the front door unlock and their voices rising as they walked down the hallway toward her open room.
“How are we doing?”
Loretta sang in a soft, soothing tone, the kind meant for children. And now that Whitney knew who she was, it all made sense.
“I'm fine,”
Whitney answered, her voice flat. “Still not trying to kill myself, zero times in the last two months. And it’s been five years since I’ve had any thoughts about it.”
She added a dry smile, making light of the question.
“Whitney,”
Loretta said gently, “this is about more than what happened. Being stuck in bed all day can take a toll on anyone.”
“I wish I was tied to my bed,”
Whitney quipped, shooting a smirk at Brittanya.
Loretta ignored the comment, settling on the edge of the bed while Brittanya hung back. “I just want you to know you’ve got resources if you ever need them. You and Brittanya are great friends, and if you ever feel like talking, you can always reach out to her or me, if that’s more comfortable. Dr. Weaver’s a familiar face, too.”
Whitney sighed, the fight draining out of her. “Thank you, Loretta. And… I’m sorry for how I acted at the hospital. For accusing you of not understanding what it’s like to move here. I know your family’s had a rough start too. I was just upset that people thought I would even consider it.”
“It’s alright, honey.”
Loretta leaned in a little closer, her voice warm. “We can blame it on the medication.”
She smiled. “And don’t worry, Brittanya only ever has kind things to say about you and your brother. I also spoke with Dr. Weaver, and she has no concerns for you whatsoever. You’re officially in the clear.”
“Thank God.”
Whitney let out a breath, relief softening her face as Loretta patted her leg.
“Is there anything else you need? How’s your recovery going?”
“I liked it better when you guys had me knocked out,”
Whitney teased, her grin sharp.
Loretta chuckled as she stood. “That’s an expensive treatment, I’m afraid. Do you want me to take a look at your stitches before I go?”
“No, I think I’m good. Brittanya’s been on top of everything, she’s got a pretty great example.”
Whitney flashed a playful grin at her roommate’s mom.
“Alright then. Get some rest.”
Loretta headed for the door, glancing back with a gentle smile. “See you later, Whitney.”
March Fifth
“Thank you for driving me, babe.”
Whitney glanced over at Fade, appreciating the way he’d taken a half day from work just to bring her to this appointment.
“Of course.”
He reached over, brushing his fingers along her thigh. “Want to grab lunch after this?”
She threw her head back with a dramatic sigh. “Please. I’ve been so cooped up in the house, I’m starting to forget what fresh air feels like.”
He grinned. “We could hit the diner.”
His hand lingered on her leg, his touch warm and familiar. She’d worn a dress for practicality, easier access to the stitches and if Fade minded the sight of her legs, he certainly didn’t show it. In fact, the way his eyes kept drifting down suggested he didn’t mind at all, even if there wouldn’t be any physical follow-through for a while.
“That sounds perfect.”
She smiled, feeling lighter already. “It always brings back fun memories of when we became unofficially official.”
Fade parked the car, his mouth curving into a teasing smirk. “I still think you tricked me into all this.”
“Would you be mad if I did?”
She raised an eyebrow, daring him.
“Not even a little.”
He slipped out of the car, coming around to open her door like it was second nature. His strong hands reached for her, steadying her as her sandals hit the pavement.
“Good,”
she murmured, tilting her face up toward his. “Because I wanted you the moment I laid eyes on you.”
Fade grabbed her crutches from the back seat and shut the door, then leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a slow, lingering kiss. “I love you.”
Fade
The waitress barely glanced at Whitney, her attention focused on Fade but he didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy flipping through the menu like he didn’t already know exactly what they’d order. When the server finally came over, notepad poised, Fade didn’t even let Whitney speak.
“I’ll have a double cheeseburger with bacon, onion rings instead of fries. And she’ll have chicken tenders, fries, two sides of ranch, and a chocolate milkshake. Can you put that in a to-go cup for later?”
The waitress blinked, clearly a little flustered. “Wow, okay — yes!”
She smiled at both of them for confirmation before hurrying off, and Whitney just stared at him, amused.
“Why did you do that?”
she asked, her eyes narrowing even as a small smile tugged at her lips.
“Order for you?”
He sipped his water, completely unbothered. “Because I know what you want.”
“Yeah, well… it was hot.”
She crossed her arms on the table. “And that’s not fair. I still have eight to ten weeks before I’ll feel better.”
He shrugged. “The doctor said everyone’s different. Could be four weeks. Hell, we could probably think of a position that wouldn’t hurt at all.”
“Fade.”
She shot him a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “I did some research. Sometimes pelvic fractures mess with your sex drive.”
He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. “I doubt you’ll have that problem.”
“I kind of am,”
she admitted softly, her eyes meeting his. “A little, anyway.”
He brushed his thumb over her knuckles. “I’m going to love you no matter what, Whitney. Quit being so hard on yourself. I could have ten Rachels throw themselves at me, and I’d still only want you.”
Her throat tightened. “I just don’t want you to regret being with me. I feel like a burden.”
“You’re not.”
He squeezed her hand, his voice low and fierce. “I don’t know how many times I have to say it or how else to say it.”
His eyes locked on hers, intense and unwavering. “You. Are. All. I. Want. Period.”
He released her hand only to grab his cup, muttering under his breath as he took a sip. “Fucking brat.”
She laughed, the sound soft and sweet. “Are you ready to marry me yet?”
“Enough, Whitney.”
He smiled, shaking his head. “Of course I am.”
Her smirk turned into a giggle. “I don’t think I’m wearing white.”
She arched a brow, hinting at the dress he’d given her for her birthday, the one she hadn’t had a chance to wear yet. It meant more because he had picked it out, and Juniper had made it.
“You can wear whatever you want,”
he said, his gaze darkening. “Almost.”
Whitney’s phone chimed, drawing her attention away.
But Fade didn’t mind. He leaned back in the booth, feeling lucky as the only man on the island who’d ever had her.
The world didn’t matter. Neither did her past. And after her brothers had settled down and gotten girlfriends of their own, he finally understood what Whitney had been telling him all along, that it wasn’t a big deal. That she wasn’t defined by anyone before him.
Owen could have Misty if he wanted. Fade didn’t care. Because Whitney was his and in thirty-two more days, nothing else would matter.