Chapter Fifteen

Weston

I push Jackson’s hair back, feeling bad that I forgot to take him for a haircut—again. It’s hard juggling everything, but now it should be easier. Scarlet is here to help with housework, make dinner, and most of all, to care for the single most important person in my life.

“Love you,” I whisper and kiss his forehead before quietly slipping out of his room. Light pours into the dark hall, coming from Scarlet’s room. She’s sitting on her bed, with one hand pressed to her forehead and the other holding her phone. I can tell right away she’s upset.

“Yes, I’m fully aware he needs that medication, but insurance denied it. I’ve been working on it and will pay out of pocket if I have to.” She pauses, listening to whoever is on the phone. “Sure. If the doctor thinks he needs it, then yeah.” Another pause. I should go and not listen to her conversation, but I’m fighting hard against myself and the urge to go comfort her. “How many falls does that make this month? Fuck—sorry. It’s just…I didn’t realize he’d fallen so many times.”

She exhales, and I turn away, giving her privacy. I head into the bathroom to shower and then put on sweatpants and a T-shirt. Mom packed a plate of leftovers, and it’s calling my name. The light is off in Scarlet’s room when I step back into the hall, but her door is open, leading me to believe she’s downstairs.

But she’s not.

She’s nowhere to be found, and I actually go back up and peek in her room—she’s not there—and she’s not in Jackson’s room, either.

“Scarlet?” I call quietly when I get to the bottom of the stairs. I’m starting to get concerned when I see her sitting on the back porch, arms wrapped tightly around herself and her head tipped up to the sky. She’s not wearing a coat and has to be cold.

Grabbing a blanket from the living room, I put on my jacket and step onto the porch.

“Hey,” she says, flicking her eyes to me for a nanosecond before looking away.

“It’s freezing out here.”

“I know.” Her breath leaves in silver wisps, hanging in the air. “I didn’t mean to stay out here for so long.”

I go to the steps and sit next to her. “Here.”

“Thanks,” she says and takes the blanket from me. She wraps it around herself and looks back up at the sky.

“Do you believe in aliens?”

“Kind of,” I admit. “I think there has to be other life forces out there, and I do enjoy the Ancient Aliens show on the History Channel.”

“Nerd.” She bumps me with her elbow and smiles.

“What about you?”

“Not in the traditional sense. I don’t think little green Martians are going to come abduct us and probe our butts, but I agree that we can’t be the only life in the universe.”

I laugh. “Not probing butts is a good thing.”

She turns her head down and meets my eyes. “Well, sometimes it can be a good thing.”

Dammit, Scarlet. Leave it to her to turn a tender moment borderline erotic. Though she could read the phone book and I’d get turned on.

“It’s so quiet here,” she says and rests her head on my shoulder. I clench my fists, trying to keep my hands to myself.

I know how good her lips feel against mine.

If I touch her, I’m going to kiss her again, and there’s a good chance we’ll make love right here on the stairs.

“It is.”

“I thought downtown would be a little louder than this.”

I chuckle. “Main Street is, and we’re three blocks away. Though everything shuts down around ten or eleven. There are a fair amount of festivals in the summer, though, and we have one twenty-four-hour diner. And, of course, Getaway, my brothers’ bar is open until two or three. Friday and Saturday nights are a different story, though once the weather starts to turn, it does quiet down a lot.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I do. I was born and raised here, so maybe I’m biased. But it’s a good town with good people and it’s a safe place to raise a kid.”

She nods and gently touches a scar on the back of my hand. “What is this from?”

I swallow my pounding heart. “Dean threw a glass bottle at me when we were kids. I needed a ton of stitches, and he got grounded for a week. I was the one who told him to throw the bottle in the first place, but I never told my parents that.”

She laughs. “I’m surprised he forgave you.”

“I was able to convince him it was all his fault, and he felt bad about it for like a year. I milked it for all it was worth, of course.”

“I would too.”

“Do you have any scars?” I hear the words leave my lips but don’t know where they came from. Clearly, my upstairs brain has checked out.

“I do. Nothing too interesting, though. I have a cigarette burn on the back of my left shoulder.”

“How’d that happen?”

“My mom fell asleep with a cigarette in her hand, and it dropped on me.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.” She takes her head off my shoulder and raises her eyebrows. “I think I had an entirely different childhood than you.”

I’m not quite sure what to say. I know Scarlet isn’t one to want pity. She said what she did factually and only because I asked. She’s not trying to make me feel bad for her.

“Oh!” She jerks up and points to the sky. “I think I saw a shooting star!”

“Make a wish.” I look up, breath catching just a bit when I see how sparkly the night sky is above us. Then I look at Scarlet, and my breath does more than catch. It stops.

Her eyes are closed, lips curved into a slight smile, and her head is tipped up to the sky.

“You should make one too,” she whispers.

I look back at the stars and wish for self-control. Because Lord knows I need it tonight. Scarlet gathers up the blanket and lays back, eyes fluttering shut.

“What do you do if you’re hungry in the middle of the night?”

“What do you mean?” I lick my lips, watching her breasts rise and fall beneath her shirt as she fixes the blanket around herself.

“Does the diner deliver?”

“No. I’d just go get something from the kitchen.” I raise an eyebrow. “You can’t possibly be hungry.”

“Oh, I’m not. I’m preparing for future nights. Sometimes I have a hard time falling asleep, so I get up and eat my feelings.”

I’m usually good at reading people, but I’m struggling with Scarlet. Because she spits out her truths like they’re lies, saying serious things so casually it’s like a joke.

“Make sure to keep the fridge stocked,” I tease and lay back with her, scooting closer, but only so I can see the stars. Not so I can feel her against me. “What’d you wish for?”

“Wes Dawson,” she scolds. “I can’t tell you.”

“Right. It won’t come true if you do.”

“Oh, I didn’t think of it like that. I was going to be cliché and say if I tell you I have to kill you, but you’re so big and tall. It’ll be such a pain to chop you up and bury your body.”

I laugh, and her hand brushes against mine. “You’re different than I expected.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

She turns to me, face inches from mine. Suddenly, the humor in her eyes goes away, and I see darkness reflected back at me. I get a glimpse of her, and if I hadn’t felt the same thing when I came back after my first tour overseas, I wouldn’t have noticed.

She’s struggling, fighting tooth and nail to stay afloat in choppy waters.

And then she blinks, and the moment is gone. Slowly, she reaches out and runs her finger over the scar on my hand again.

“Remember you said that,” she whispers. Her eyes fall shut, and she turns her head away, sitting up and pulling the blanket tight around her shoulders. “Want to finish that ghost show?”

I do, but now that I’ve seen inside, and it was like looking into a mirror, I can’t. “Maybe tomorrow.” I get up and extend a hand. “I’m pretty beat, and I have work tomorrow night.”

“Right.” She gives me a tight smile and takes my hand, letting me pull her to her feet. “Then you should get to bed.”