Chapter Thirty-five

Scarlet

I pull the blankets tighter around my shoulders, unable to stop shivering. Wes has been gone for nearly an hour now, and I haven’t heard from him. Every minute that passes makes me more anxious.

I’ve shut down, told everyone I was tired and wanted to sit in silence on the couch. Dean went upstairs to sleep, and Quinn and Archer left about half an hour ago. Emma woke up crying, and after nursing her back to sleep, Quinn was able to slip her into her car seat and leave.

Mrs. Dawson walks out from the kitchen to check on me, and I close my eyes and pretend that I’m asleep. I have no idea what will happen. I’m in the middle of nowhere at their farm. While this place feels safe and I trust the Dawsons as if they were my own family—actually I trust them more than my own—I want out of here. Because shit is going to hit the fan at any minute and I don’t think I can stand to see the disappointment in Mrs. Dawson’s eyes.

My phone vibrates in my hand and I shoot up. It’s Weston, and for a split second, I’m scared to answer.

“Hello?” My voice is shaky and thin.

“Hey.” He’s not yelling. Not telling me to fuck off or run away and never return. “She’s finally gone…for now. I’m changing into pajamas and will head back. What do you want me to bring for you?”

Wait, what? He’s not mad. Does he not know? Did I get a Christmas miracle in No-fucking-vember?

“Scarlet?”

“Sorry,” I rush out. “I’m tired. Um, just my toothbrush and some leggings and a sweatshirt or something for the morning. I don’t really care.”

“Any preference?”

“Something black.”

I can hear Weston walking down the hall and into my room. My clothes are still mostly in that closet. “That’s easy. About ninety percent of what you own is black.”

“It’s a flattering color.”

“Anything is flattering on you.”

I close my eyes and lean back, eyes filling with tears. He doesn’t know. I will live to see another day.

“Just pick the first thing you grab and get back here. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” He zips a bag and moves through the house. “I’ll be there soon. I love you.”

“I love you too.” I hang up, too relieved to realize Mrs. Dawson has come back into the room.

“Is everything okay, dear?” she asks.

“Uh, yeah. I think so.” I pull the blankets up and cast my eyes down, trying to cover up how emotional I am right now. “Wes is coming back. He wants to stay here just in case.”

“I figured he would. I can show you to the guest room upstairs if you’d like.”

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” We go upstairs.

“This used to be Quinn’s room, and when she lived in Chicago, she’d come and stay for the weekend. There should be face wash and soap in the bathroom if you need any.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Dawson looks at me and smiles. “And thank you, Scarlet, for making my Weston happy again.”

Don’t thank me yet, lady.

*

Wes rolls over and pulls me to him. The rough skin on the palm of his hand slides under my shirt and over my stomach, and I inhale deeply, not opening my eyes. It’s early in the morning, and we’re still at his parents’ house.

He didn’t talk about what happened when he came in last night. He looked tired and worn and not even his mom questioned him on it. I’ve been dying to ask, but I’m going on the whole no news is good news thing.

Once we were in bed together, Wes kissed me hard and made love to me. I know he’s worried this whole mess with Daisy will send me running, but he has nothing to worry about. The expectation of finding someone with no baggage, with nothing from their past that could come back to haunt them, is ridiculous. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of. We’ve all had the best-laid plans come crashing down.

It’s not the past that makes up who you are. It’s how you continue forward with your life. Which is why I know we can work out. I’m not the same girl I was when I first laid eyes on him, when my only thought was oh shit, both because I knew he was the right amount of brooding and gorgeous to get under my skin and because he wasn’t the rich asshole I thought I’d be working for.

And even if I had started working for Quinn and Archer…I don’t think I would have gone through with things. They’re both good fucking people. Quinn is my friend now.

I swallow hard and let out a shaky breath. I fell in love with Weston, but it’s deeper than that. There’s Jackson, of course, and the rest of the Dawsons. I love that whole family.

The toilet flushes in the jack-and-jill bathroom, and I sit up, peering in. Jackson steps onto a stool at the sink to wash his hands. He doesn’t know we’re here. I wait until he’s drying his hands to whisper his name. He does a double-take and then runs in, jumping on the bed.

“Shhh,” I whisper. “Your dad is still sleeping.”

Jackson hugs me and then squirms out of bed, running back into his room and returning with Ray, who’s looking more tattered and worn as each day goes by.

“He told me he gets lonely,” Jackson says, situating the unicorn under the covers with us. He’s sandwiched between Weston and me, and Wes wakes up with a smile.

“Hey, buddy.”

“What are you doing here, Daddy?”

“I missed you too much.” Wes wraps his muscular arms around his son, making Jackson look so small nestled against Wes’s large frame. “Did you have fun with Grammy and Papa?”

“Yes! We made cake, and I helped change a poopy diaper,” he says proudly. “And I was the only one who got Emma to stop crying.”

“You’re a good cousin,” I tell him, pulling the blankets up over all of us. We lay in bed for a few more minutes. Then Jackson says he’s hungry and gets crabby when Wes tells him to let us go back to sleep.

“Go find Grammy,” Wes mumbles, turning over. “You’re at her house.”

“I want you,” Jackson whines.

“I’ll take him down,” I offer.

“You don’t have to,” Wes grumbles. “Jackson, it’s early. Lay back down.”

That starts a crying fit, and Wes gets up with a huff. It’s not even seven AM yet, and the house is quiet. Well, until we go into the kitchen. Then all four dogs come running, thinking we’re going to feed them breakfast. Wes lets them out and plugs in the coffee pot.

“Want any?” he asks, getting out a mug.

I shake my head. “I’ll have tea instead if there is any.”

Wes puts on a kettle and turns on cartoons for Jackson, who cuddles up with a blanket on the living room couch and isn’t interested in breakfast anymore. But we’re already up, so we might as well eat.

“Morning,” Mrs. Dawson says, coming into the kitchen a few minutes later. She looks at the cereal we’re eating and shakes her head. “I’m going to make you a real breakfast.”

“You don’t have to,” I tell her, rather enjoying my Crackling Oats.

“There’s no point in arguing,” Wes whisper-talks. “Food is love in Mom’s eyes.”

“Food is comforting, and I figured after last night you could use a little extra comfort.” She pulls eggs and bacon from the fridge and looks at Wes, waiting for him to explain things.

“Yeah. In that case, make me lunch and dinner too.”

“Is she coming back?” I ask quietly.

“I’m sure, but I think I made it clear I’ll only handle this through a lawyer. I’m not making deals or promises with her.” Wes takes a long drink of coffee. “I don’t know what to do.” He sets his mug down and puts his head in his hands. “He’s her son too.”

“It’s a hard situation,” I agree, putting my hand on Wes’s shoulder.

“You said your dad wasn’t around when you were a kid, right?”

“Right. I was glad when he came back into our lives, but mostly because my mom was a dead-beat drug addict who left me to raise my brother and sister.”

Mrs. Dawson turns away from the stove to look at me, but her eyes aren’t full of judgment. She feels bad for me, which is almost worse than being judged. I don’t want anyone’s pity.

“Jackson has you,” I go on. “So it’s a totally different situation.”

“She’s never been a mother to him,” Mrs. Dawson says, and I know she’s fighting hard not to scream profanities and curse Daisy’s name. “Thank God you’re in the process of being granted full custody of Jackson.”

Wes nods. “She is his mother, but she’s left him. Twice. I’m not risking him getting to know his mom only to have her leave again.”

“That’s smart,” I agree. “She’ll have to earn the right to see him. He’s a great kid.” I look into the living room, only able to see the top of Jackson’s head from where I’m sitting. “I can’t imagine leaving him like that.”

Mrs. Dawson beams at me. “I’ve always been a believer in things happening for a reason. Sometimes the reason takes years to manifest, but it’s there.”

The tea kettle starts to whistle, and I get up to get it. Mrs. Dawson’s words echo in my head, making me think I’ve been looking at this all wrong. Maybe everything in my shitty past happened to push me here right now.

I never would have met Wes in the South Side. And I never would have come to this small Indiana town. The only reason we met was because I took a job thinking I could con my new boss. If I didn’t have such shitty moral character before, I wouldn’t be where we are right now.

I’m happy.

Weston is happy.

Jackson is happy.

Maybe this did happen for a reason.