Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
The wind whipped the tent flaps, bringing in much cooler temperatures.
Willa folded the legs on the last table and carried it to the truck. “Thanks, guys.” After they loaded it, she smiled and waved. “See you next year.”
The square was busy with take-down. Trucks idling, brooms sweeping debris off the street, and neighbors trading stories from another successful Wild West Days.
When she saw her dad rolling up the Wild Rose Inn and Saloon banner, she made her way over. “Why don’t you go upstairs? We’ve got this.” She gestured to the staff surrounding them.
Her dad fixed her with a look and arched a brow. “I think I can handle a little cleanup. Sweetheart, I’m stable now. The worst of it is behind us.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” She really had to stop making him feel like a patient. “I just worry about you.”
“I know, Willa-Bear, and I appreciate it. But I’m good.”
“But I also feel bad because you weren’t even planning to do a booth.”
Another gust of wind knocked a stack of empty boxes off a table, and everyone scrambled to catch them.
“Yes, but only because we’ve had so many leftovers the past few years. It didn’t make sense to repeat something that wasn’t working anymore. But the pies were a hit.”
“They really were.” A flicker of fear moved through her.
What would happen next year? Would she still be with Decker?
Will he ever make me a pie again?
She pushed it away. They’d both put in the effort to make it work. Even when she was tired after a long day of briefs and meetings, she’d call him. They’d grab time with each other whenever they had the chance.
They’d figure it out.
Her dad set the banner in its box. “Did you see Birdie double-fisting those pies? Cherry in one hand, and peach in the other.”
“She’s the cutest.” Her chest tightened. Three thousand miles would put an end to all the little things—the bedtime routine, the silly conversations, the quiet moments where bonding happened.
Her dad watched her. “You’re real good with her.”
“Who knew, right? Me and kids?” She tried for a laugh. “But she makes it easy.”
“You think you might want to have some kids of your own?”
“It’s not like I want kids. I just want Birdie.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. Emotion surged fast on their heels. “I want to be in her life.” The knot in her throat squeezed painfully. “I love her.”
“I know you do. I see how you are with her.”
A black town car double-parked in front of the inn, a faint mist beginning to film the windshield.
“Is Aunt Viv coming or going?” It always felt strange to call Mrs. Archer aunt when they barely exchanged more than holiday pleasantries.
“Not sure. Someone took me off the front desk.” He eyed her accusingly.
“I’m helping you, Dad.” She grinned. “So you can make furniture.”
“Well, sweet pea, we don’t have a general manager, and you’re going back to New York soon, so it might be best for me to stay involved until you find someone.”
She supposed she didn’t have a choice. “I’ve been waiting to find the perfect person, but that’s not fair to you. I’ll find someone soon. I promise.”
“Might not have to look too far.” He gave a knowing smile.
“Well, I’m going to head upstairs. I promised I’d read Birdie The Story of Ferdinand again. For the millionth time.”
“She does love that one.”
She kissed his cheek, then hurried inside. As she passed the desk, she called out, “Someone’s car is here.”
The receptionist was busy checking in a guest, but she smiled and nodded.
Willa hurried across the saloon. Bedtime was her favorite part of the day—Birdie tucked between them, a pile of books spread across the mattress, and Decker’s glance catching hers over the top of a page.
The sweet smile that said, This.
This is happiness.
After they got Birdie to sleep, it would be just the two of them. Some nights, they’d head up to the roof and gaze at the stars. Sometimes, they were so exhausted, they’d fall into bed and snuggle.
Or, if Birdie had already crashed, Decker might be waiting for her.
She imagined him stretched out on the couch, body tense, waiting for the sound of her heels on the stairs.
His muscular, agile body would leap up and meet her at the door, lift her off her feet, and kiss her all the way to the bedroom.
He’d toss her onto the mattress and climb over her, all the while stripping off her clothes.
She took the stairs two at a time, her heart fluttering with anticipation.
But when she entered the apartment, the floor dropped out from under her.
Because he stood there, clean-shaven, hair neatly trimmed.
Ready.
She knew what that meant. “You’re leaving.”
“I am.” He gave a tight nod. “Coach said if I’m not on the field Monday morning, I’m not starting the season.”
“Oh. That’s…” Her pulse went haywire, and her voice came out strained. “Okay, well.”
It’s all right. Stay calm.
You knew this moment was coming.
“There’s a storm coming, and if I don’t get out tonight, I might not make it in time.” He stepped closer. “But I waited. I didn’t want you to come back to an empty room and think I didn’t care.”
Do you? Of course, he did. That wasn’t the issue. It was more about what time and distance would do to them. She lifted her chin, ready to meet this head-on. Let him go, clean and easy.
Except her body didn’t cooperate. Her lip trembled. Heat climbed her neck, and a twist of sorrow wrenched a gasp from her throat. She wasn’t ready for this.
Get a hold of yourself.
Stay strong. Be professional.
But she couldn’t. She couldn’t hold back the tears that spilled hotly down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry.” She wiped them away. “I thought we had more time.” Only a few days, so what did it matter? “I’m just going to miss you so much.” Ick. Don’t make this harder for him. “I…I love Birdie. And I don’t want to lose you.”
“You won’t.” In one step, he bridged the gap between them and hauled her up against him. “This isn’t over.” His body heated, and his hold tightened. “We’re going to be together.”
She clung to him, pressing her face into his chest as if he could keep her from going under.
But he couldn’t do that. He had to go.
“Kissy kiss?” The small voice cut through the pain.
Willa pulled back, turning as Birdie came out of the bedroom, clutching Moo to her chest. In one hand, she held a fuzzy sock they’d used as a hand puppet, while the other was fisted, clutching something Willa couldn’t see.
The sight of that sweet little girl drove home all Willa was losing.
She dropped to a knee in front of her, smoothing a curl back from her face.
Birdie gazed up at her, eyes bright with worry. Tiny beads of perspiration dotted her upper lip. “You come wif us?”
Oh, God. What had they done? They’d played happy family with a child who’d lost a mother, who had no roots. Willa gazed imploringly at Decker. What do I do? What do I say?
But he looked just as wrecked.
Okay, well, she had to handle it. “No, sweetheart.” She cupped the little girl’s cheeks. “I’m staying here. But I love you, Birdie. And I’ll see you again, okay?”
“Come wif me,” the toddler whispered, panic creeping into her tone.
Decker scooped her up. “Hey, sweet girl. Willa’s always going to be our friend. We’ll talk to her on the phone as often as we can, okay?”
Instead of answering, the little girl opened her fist, revealing three rocks—a smooth pebble, a chunk of quartz, and a chip of agate. She picked out the quartz. “Dis yours. It spawkly like you.”
“Thank you, Birdie. This is so special to me.” She closed her hand around it and pressed it to her heart.
“I’m going to make a necklace out of this.
And I’ll make one for you, too. Then, we’ll both have special necklaces.
Would you like that?” Birdie nodded, and Willa pressed a kiss on her cheek. “I love you.”
“Come on,” Decker said, his voice gravelly. “We have to go.”
He walked out the door.
Leaving her with nothing but his footsteps pounding down the stairs.
And a broken heart.
For a long moment after they left, Willa stood in the living room.
She didn’t know why it was so hard to process.
He’s gone.
And the loss of him, of Birdie, hit hard enough to give her a bone-level shock that sent a tremor throughout her system.
She folded slightly, her hand bracing against the back of the couch.
But she’d always known this day was coming, so she had to just—
No. No, she didn’t have to do anything.
She could be sad.
Birdie’s door stood half open, so Willa pushed it gently and peeked inside.
Of course, the bed was empty, the sheets a rumpled mess.
A small impression in the pillow. Some of the dresser drawers were left open, and she looked inside.
The little pink shorts she’d bought, the ones with the frilly hems, were gone.
That pack of underpants—two with strawberries, two with apples, and two with oranges on them—gone.
In the bathroom, the faint scent of baby shampoo lingered in the damp air. Toys packed the corners of the tub—crayons, squirt dinosaurs, plastic stacking cups, and the corks her dad had once collected for her.
For a second, she could almost hear it—water splashing, little girl giggles, and Decker’s deep, rumbly voice as he leaned over to rinse the conditioner out of Birdie’s hair.
The front door slammed, rattling the frame, and Willa bolted. “Decker?”
But it was her dad. His smile faded when he saw her.
She swiped at her tears. She must’ve looked like a mess. “Sorry, I thought…”
His features crumpled in concern, and he held his arms out to her. “Come here, Willa-Bear.”
She went right to him, fitting like a puzzle piece against his chest. “He’s gone, Dad. He has to be on the field on Monday.” The loss crashed over her. “He’s gone.”
No matter how hard she wanted to believe they’d work out, no matter how strong their feelings, she just couldn’t see it working out.