Chapter Thirty-six

Scarlet

“What’s all this?” I ask, looking at the papers and boxes cluttering the living room. We just got back to Weston’s house. In the daylight, things never seen as scary as they do in the dark. And the more I think about the universe wanting me to meet Weston, the better I feel about this whole situation.

“Family heirlooms. Jackson, don’t touch them,” he adds quickly.

“Why are they out?” I take off my coat and move to the couch, curiously picking up an old book.

“You-know-who wore her mother’s wedding dress at our wedding.” He looks uncomfortable talking about it. “She wanted it back and I wasn’t sure what box it was in.”

“Oh. This stuff is cool.”

“You like Civil War history?” he asks, looking a little amused.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t know much about it. But I love antiques. Wait, all this stuff is from the Civil War?”

“Some of it is. Not all is that old. It’s been in the Dawson family for years and gets passed down to the oldest son. Jackson will get it someday.”

“Can I see it?” Jackson asks, peering into a box.

“Sure,” Wes says, and we all sit on the floor together. There are books, handwritten letters, a World War II Army uniform, a saber, and a silver tea set that looks like it has to be worth a pretty penny.

“Can we use it?” Jackson asks as I carefully look at the teapot, feeling like I should be wearing those white gloves you see museum workers wearing when they handle artifacts.

“I don’t know if it’s safe to drink out of,” Wes says, looking at the sugar bowl. “It might have traces of lead in it.”

I gently set the teapot down and grab my phone, doing a G****e search for more info on the tea set.

“Holy shit—I mean, shoot. But holy.” I turn my phone around, showing Wes the value of the tea set.

He takes my phone from me, eyes going wide. “These aren’t in as good of condition.”

“They’re tarnished, which can be cleaned. That’s crazy, though.”

Wes nods. “It is. I had no idea.”

“That sword and the uniform are probably worth a lot too.”

“I know the saber is,” he tells me. “And we know the personal history of it.” He sorts through a box for a minute, pulling out a photo of great-great-great Grandpa Dawson holding the exact sword.

“Wow. That’s incredible.”

“It is pretty cool,” he agrees. We spend another half an hour looking through the stuff before putting it away. Wes tries to get Jackson to sit and watch a movie with us since we’re tired. Any other time this kid would jump at the chance to watch TV, but since both Wes and I are dead tired, of course he wants to paint instead. Everything is fine at first, and then Jackson paints his face in the one minute Wes and I turned our backs, talking in hushed voices about being extra careful at preschool pick-up with Daisy back in town.

Wes takes Jackson upstairs for a bath, and I start cleaning up the paint mess on the table. Wes’s phone is on the counter, and it vibrates with an alert from the motion sensor on the doorbell. Wiping my hands on a dishtowel, I rush through the house and see Daisy standing at the front door.

Anger surges through me, and I storm out of the house before thinking it through.

“You are not welcome here,” I say, clenching my fists. “Leave before I call the cops. Or better yet. Watch Wes cart your ass off to jail.”

“Please.” She rolls her eyes. “And it was you I wanted to talk to.”

Oh shit. I cross my arms, trying to stay calm and keep warm. It’s cold out here, and I’m not wearing shoes or a coat.

“You have two minutes.”

“This won’t take long. Good thing I already know all about you, Scarlet Cooper.”

I try to swallow my fear and keep my cool. “What do you want?”

“I want my family back, and I want you out of the picture.”

“That’s not happening.”

She laughs. “That’s what you think. Come on, we both know Wes will kick you out when he learns the truth. And not just about you coming here to rob him blind, but about all the other cons you pulled. I think my favorite was the time you convinced a Fortune 500 CEO to donate thousands to a bullshit charity you made up.”

The blood drains from my face. How does she—dammit, Heather. She was bragging about me to her prison friends, who relayed the message to Daisy.

“I’ll tell him you’re lying.”

“I knew you’d say that.” She bats her lashes and gives me a smile. “So I did some digging, and your sister has been so helpful. I should really send her a thank-you note or something.” Daisy reaches into her pocket and pulls out a piece of paper with a name and number written on it.

Deven McAllister.

My old boss. The one I blackmailed into paying me for my silence. Shit. Shit Shit Shhhiiitttt.

“Why would you do that to Wes?”

“Because I want him back.” Daisy shakes her head like it’s obvious. “And you’re going to help me get him back.”

“Fuck that.”

Daisy holds up her finger. “The election is coming up soon, isn’t it? It’d be a shame if something were to happen.”

“You wouldn’t fucking dare.”

“Oh, I will if you push me.” She takes a step forward, and I feel like I’m standing at the edge of a slippery cliff, desperately trying to keep my footing. “Star County is small and full of closed-minded, simple people. If you haven’t noticed, not everyone here is as open and understanding as the Dawsons. One little rumor about candidate Wes Dawson dating a known con-artist with a sister in jail, a mother who died of an overdose, and a father who drank himself into a stupor and, well…it’s not something I’d risk.”

The girl from the ghetto comes out, and I don’t even think as I take a tangle of Daisy’s hair and yank her to the ground.

“Stop!” she screams. “Or the article will go out now!”

I freeze, breath leaving in ragged huffs. “Article?”

“My sister works for the Star County Post. Ask Wes if you don’t believe me.” She scrambles up from the ground. “It’s already written and ready to go out in the morning.”

“They why would I do anything for you?”

“If you tell Wes he should give his wife, Jackson’s mother, another chance and then get the hell out of here, I’ll have her yank the article. And if not…you know what will be on the front page of the Sunday paper…two days before the election.”

“You’re a horrible fucking person.”

“Like you’re much better,” she snorts. “How many people have you fucked over? Actually, I’m curious. How many other married men have you slept with? Wes can’t be the first.”

“He’s not married to you anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter. He was mine first. And I want him back.” She taps her watch. “Tick-tock. You don’t have much time before the front page is drafted up. And even if you took your sorry ass out of here after that, there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

With a triumphant smile, she turns and leaves, walking across the street and getting into a white sedan. I never stopped and thought about what the people I was conning felt. They were asshole men trying to pick me up at a bar, not even attempting to hide the fact they were married. They deserved it, or at least that’s what I told myself. Maybe I deserve to have my happily ever after ripped away, but Weston doesn’t.

I came here with the intentions of taking everything from him, and instead he took the one thing I thought I lost years ago: my heart. He taught me how to love, not just other people but myself. Leaving him will hurt, but having everything he’s worked for fall apart will hurt worse.

And if he lost his job…nope. I can’t even think about it. He has worked so hard to build a life for himself and Jackson. I won’t let anyone take that away.