Chapter Thirty-nine

Scarlet

I sit up, eyes waking up before my mind. I’m uncomfortable with stiff legs and an aching back, and for a split second, I think I fell asleep sitting up on the couch. Then I blink and realize my eyes are still sore and swollen from crying.

Yes, crying.

The room is dark, and I sit up, stretching my arms over my head. I didn’t mean to fall asleep in the stiff armchair next to my father’s bed at the nursing home. After leaving Weston’s house, I walked into town, took Eastwood’s only taxi to Newport, and was able to get an Uber to drive me up to Chicago.

I didn’t know where else to go other than the nursing home. Dad was having a bad day and just sat in his chair not really paying attention to anything. So, for the first time in my entire life, I spilled my guts. Said everything I ever wanted to say. Confessed the bad things I’ve done as well as admit just how deep my love for Weston goes.

And Dad just sat there, staring blankly in my general direction. A little empathy would have been nice, and advice on how not to farther fuck up my life would have been welcome.

But I got nothing.

Rubbing my eyes, I get up, moving slowly in the dark. My phone is in my purse, and it’s dead.

“Dammit,” I mutter. I have no idea what time it is, and I think I left my phone charger in the kitchen at Weston’s house. I left in such a rush I wouldn’t be surprised if I left more behind. Moving slow so I don’t wake up my dad or his roommate, I go into the hall, blinking from the bright lights.

“Oh!” a nurse exclaims, surprised to see me. “I thought you left.”

“I fell asleep.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to work out a knot. “What time is it?”

“A little after two AM.”

“Shit. Sorry. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”

The nurse shakes her head. “Stay. It’s late, and I know you walk back to your place. Just this one time, though, you hear?”

“Thank you.” I go to the bathroom and then back to Dad’s room. The nurse put an extra blanket on the chair for me, and I’m grateful. These rooms are fucking freezing.

“Scarlet?” Dad is sitting up in his bed.

“Dad.” I rush over, clicking on the light over his bed so he can see me. “It’s late. You should go back to sleep.”

“You listen to me,” he starts. I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to deal with one of his flashback rants right now. “You’re a Cooper, and Coopers don’t give up.”

“What?”

“You love that boy?”

I blink, unsure if I’m hearing him correctly. “Weston. Yes. I love him a lot.”

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I…I…” I don’t know what to say. “I had to leave or else his ex-wife was going to publish an article about him that made him seem unfit to be the county sheriff. It would have ruined his chances of winning, and he was so close. And besides…once he hears what I did—what I used to do—I don’t think he’ll see me the same.”

“So you’re running away with your tail tucked between your legs? I might not have raised you, but I know that’s not the type of girl you are. You have more Cooper blood in you than that.”

“I just…I…” I shake my head. Dad’s having a rare moment of clarity, and I’ve been honest all night. Why stop here? “I’m scared. Scared to hear him tell me he doesn’t want me. Scared to see the look of anger or disgust on his face when he sees me. I left to save his career but also to escape rejection.”

“I’ve been waiting to hear you admit that.” Wrinkles form around Dad’s mouth as he smiles. “I was scared to come back to you for the same reason.”

“Really?”  I perch on the edge of the heater vent next to his bed. The air coming out is room temperature, which is why this place is so fucking cold.

“Yeah. I was sure you’d hate me.”

“I did hate you.”

“Only for a while.” Dad yawns and looks around the room. “What time is it?”

“Two in the morning.”

He yawns, and I know his mind is going to start slipping back into whatever fog it’s usually in. He’ll forget about our conversation in the morning. Memory is such a wondrous and confusing thing.

“You should get home. You have school in the morning. We’ll talk about the boy tomorrow.”

“Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

“It will work out.” He nods and reaches forward to pat my shoulder. His balance is off, and I don’t want him to fall out of bed. I stand, moving closer. “If he’s a decent boy at all, he’ll see you for what you are.”

“I hope so,” I whisper and gently push Dad back down. I don’t know what I am…but I know what I want to be.

I want to be with Weston and Jackson. I want to go back to Eastwood. I want us to be a family.

*

I tuck my legs up under myself, trying to get comfortable. About an hour after I got Dad back to sleep, his roommate woke up and has been in bed hollering for pain meds nonstop ever since. The nurse came in, told him he’s not due to have any more for another few hours, and told me that he does this pretty much nightly.

Great. Just fucking great.

I put on my winter coat and folded up the blanket, trying to use it as a pillow. My suitcases full of all my possessions are cluttering up the room, and every time I see them my heart sinks even lower into my chest. It’s going back to that dark crevice it clawed its way out of, and it hurts more and more the lower it gets.

I thought about Dad’s words and see truth to them. But I’m still scared, both for myself and for Weston. I’ll take his anger and disappointment in me any day over the possibility of ruining everything he’s worked for. I’ll get over it. Somehow, someway.

I know Jackson will someday face adversity in his life, but if I can keep him innocent and carefree, I will. Weston does a good fucking job hiding his trouble and stresses from the kid. But there’s only so much he can handle. Having Daisy come back, finding out my dark past, and losing his job…nope. I won’t have it.

I doze off for about an hour and wake up with terrible cramps in my legs. I roll my big suitcase over and stretch out my legs, trying to get comfortable again. I’m so tired, physically and emotionally. I close my eyes and drift to sleep, dreaming that I’m back at Weston’s and everything is perfect.

Dad’s roommate wakes me up. He gets out of bed, and some sort of alarm goes off. And off. And off. Finally, I get up, pull back the curtain that divides the room in half and see the guy sitting on the edge of his bed, about to face plant on the floor.

“Hey,” I say to him, but it’s no use. He’s even farther gone than my own dad, and I don’t think I’ll get lucky with another moment of clarity. I duck into the hall, looking for someone to help me get him back into bed. There’s no one in sight. Grumbling, I spend the next fifteen minutes trying to get him to lay back down.

Once he’s down, I get my toothbrush and go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and come back to the room. I pull my messy hair into a bun and grab a new sweater to change into. Dad is still asleep and should be getting up for breakfast soon. My stomach grumbles at the thought of food. There’s a crappy diner that serves crappy food not far from here, and they open at six AM. I know this because I used to work there until I got laid off.

I grab my purse, shove my luggage into the corner of Dad’s room and hope no one steals it while I’m out, and step into the cold November air, keeping my head down as I walk the streets.

I make it to the diner with only a few catcalls and one offer to take a ride on some guy’s pogo stick. Not bad considering how hellish I look right now. I’m in no mood to talk to anyone I used to work with, and of course luck has it out for me again.

“Scarlet, hey!” Trisha, another waitress, says. “Haven’t seen you in a long time. How’ve you been, girl?”

“Good.” I put on my fake smile.

“You left for some fancy nanny job, right?”

“Right.”

She raises her eyebrows. “But you’re back. We’re not hiring, hun.”

“I’m visiting my dad. I just want breakfast.”

“Oh, gotcha. Sit in section one and I’ll get you.”

I force a smile. “Okay.” I slide into a booth, wishing for my phone to distract myself with. Instead, I pull out a paperback of a book that I’ve already read three times. It was at the top of my suitcase, and I didn’t want to rustle through my stuff for another. The floor in the nursing home is gross and sticky. Risking my clothes falling out onto it isn’t something I want to do.

I order tea, bacon, and French toast, and hunker down in the booth, not wanting to be disturbed by anyone or anything as I contemplate the next step in my life. After getting out of the slums the first time and living in the ritzy part of Chicago, it was hard coming back. It’s even harder after Eastwood.

I love that little town.

I have no job now, and with it getting closer and closer to the holidays, I probably won’t be able to find one. With Dad’s medical bills, I’m going to need money. So I guess it’ll be back to the old ways. Just the thought of it makes me feel sick.

Though I’m not as hungry as I should be, I force myself to eat every last bite of food on my plate. Who knows when I’ll get out for lunch, and if I’m going back to Old Scarlet, it’s going to take some time to get on my feet. I won’t have money to burn. Mentally groaning at wasting money on a hotel room for the night, I finish my tea and zip up my coat, leaving Trisha a decent tip.

I trudge my way back to the nursing home, using everything I have inside of me not to think or feel. How did I do this so easily before? Every step hurts, as every footfall reverberates through my heart, jostling the broken pieces. The sharp edges hurt all over again as they slice into me.

Cold rain mists down on me, and I flip the hood up on my coat. Tears well in my eyes, and this time I make no attempt to keep them from falling. I’m sad, really fucking sad, and it’s mostly my fault.

If I could take everything back, I would. I’d accept the nanny job in good faith and show up to actually do the job I was hired for. Crazy thought, right?

Wiping at my eyes, I enter the nursing home. My feet are sore from walking, and my fingers are cold and numb. I forgot my gloves at Weston’s house as well. They’re in his Jeep, I think.

The entrance of the nursing home opens up to the cafeteria, and right now the smell of coffee and breakfast masks the usual sickening odor of this place. I look around for Dad. He’s not as his regular table, and for a minute, I think he’d been forgotten in his room. It wouldn’t be the first time.

Corbin comes down the hall, pushing Dad in his new chair.

“Ohhh girl,” he says, coming to a screeching halt.

“I know, I know,” I say with a shake of my head. He’s obviously seen my luggage in Dad’s room. “I’ll explain later. I just…I don’t even know.” I push my hood back and sigh. “I can’t right now.”

Corbin cocks an eyebrow. “Well you better, because there’s a gorgeous hunk of man-meat looking for you.”

“What?”

“Some guy named Weston is here.”

“What?” I say again. This is a dream, right? Wes wouldn’t…he couldn’t…

“I told him to wait in the nurses’ station. It’s the least stinky place here.”

“Yeah…good idea,” I say, still in disbelief.

“Aren’t you going to go to him? Because if you don’t want him, I’ll take him.”

Weston is here. He came here for me.

“Scarlet?”

I shake myself and inhale, suddenly nervous. Did he come here to yell at me? No, that doesn’t make sense.

“How do I look?”

“You’ve seen better days,” Corbin says honestly. “But you’re still hot.”

“Thanks.” I wipe my eyes and pull the tie out of my hair. Running my fingers through my messy locks, I hurry down the hall, fingers trembling.

Wes is standing in the nurses’ station with his back to me. The moment I see him, tears spring to my eyes again. He turns as if he can sense me coming.

“Scarlet.”

My name on his lips is the best thing he can say. His brow pinches together with emotion, and he strides forward, long legs bringing him to me. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t question me or raise a finger and start lecturing.

He envelops me in a hug, and I’ve never felt more at home than I do wrapped in his arms. It’s safe. Familiar. Where I’m meant to be.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, fighting back tears.

“I came to find you.”

“Why?”

He runs his hand over my hair and steps back, tipping my chin up. Leaning down, he kisses me, and a tear rolls down my cheek.

“Partly to do that.”

“And the other part?” I slide my hands to his forearms, scared to let go. If I do, he might vanish into a puff of smoke.

“What the hell is going on?” His navy-blue eyes hold back a storm. “You left us.”

As soon as he says it, I realize I did exactly what Daisy did.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, voice breaking. Tears fall like rain, and Wes brings me to his chest, cradling me against him. “I didn’t want to leave, but I had to.”

“Why? Why did you have to leave?”

I sniffle, trying to compose myself. “Daisy came to the house when you were giving Jackson a bath. After he got paint on himself,” I remind Wes. “She threatened to have her sister publish an article in the paper about me that would hurt your chances of winning the election.”

“I knew she did something. She came by thinking you’d convinced me to give her another chance.”

“That was part of her ultimatum, but not even I could go through with that. So I left, and I’m sorry. I just…I couldn’t…”

“It’s okay.”

“No, no, Wes, it’s not. What I did…who I am…” I squeeze my eyes shut.

“So it’s true.” He lets go of me, and my heart falls to the floor. “You really are a con artist.”

I can’t look at him. My heart is already shattered into a million pieces on the floor. If I see the disgust or disappointment in his eyes, my soul might break too.

“Yes.”

“And you took the job thinking you’d be able to con me?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t.”

I shake my head, hands shaking and breath coming out in huffs.

“Why?”

Lips quivering, I look up at Wes. “I fell in love with you. And Jackson. I think he stole my heart first if I’m being honest. I tried to resist you as long as I could.” He doesn’t say anything back. His jaw tenses, and he looks away. “Do you hate me now?”

“No. Maybe I should, but I don’t.” He takes a step away, bringing his hand to his forehead. “I need some time to think about this.”

“I understand.” I turn to walk away, going back toward Dad’s room to hide from the world.

“Will you come home with me while I think about it?” Wes asks before I get too far.

I whirl around, blinking as if that would make me hear him more clearly. Because I must have misheard.

“Are you sure you want me to come home with you?”

“Yes. I missed you a lot last night. Jackson did too. And I have to work the night shift and could really use a nanny.”

“You still trust me?”

“I don’t know. I think so.”

“That’s fair.” I swallow hard. “I’m not going to scam you.”

“I know. I don’t have much for you to take, anyway.” He gives me a half-smile. “You stayed that first night when you realized I wasn’t a rich doctor. Why?”

I shake my head. “For one, I had nowhere else to go. And from the start, as much as I didn’t want to admit it, there was something about you and Jackson. You two are the perfect family…and then when I met the rest of your family…” I trail off, eyes filling with tears again. “I’ve wanted a family like that. I didn’t think families like yours actually existed outside of Hallmark movies or fairy tales. You…you made me a better person, Wes. And even if you don’t want anything to do with me ever again, I’ll always be thankful for that.”

Wes takes another step forward, and I can tell he’s fighting against himself not to come any closer.

“Wait,” he says, shaking his head, and I think he’s going to take back the invitation to go home with him. “You left so Daisy wouldn’t publish an article in the paper?”

“Right.”

“What was the plan for after?”

“I don’t know. Hide here and cry until I figured out something better to do.”

Wes frowns, exhaling heavily. He looks so tired and worn.

“Do you want to go get some coffee?” I offer. “You look exhausted.”

“I am. I didn’t sleep well at all last night.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is your fault.” He steps in and takes both my hands in his. “I got used to sleeping next to you already. Please come home.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.”