Chapter Thirty-three

Scarlet

“Wes?” I ask quietly. We’re at a four-way stop and need to turn left to get to his house. There are no other cars around us, and we’re still sitting there. I take my hand off his thigh to turn on the heater. The cold has crept through me, going straight to my heart.

I want to shove it back down into the hole it crawled out of. But it’s beating strong inside my chest, making me feel so much. Too much.

I can’t do this.

Not to Weston. Not to Jackson.

My jaw trembles, and I think about how far I’ve come, how much I’ve changed. How happy I’ve been. Weston has given me everything without even offering. He showed me love, real, unconditional love.

“Wes,” I start again, voice breaking. I bring my hands into my lap and swallow the lump in my throat. I need to say it. Now. Get it out. One way or the other, Wes deserves to know, doesn’t he? I’m not stupid. These things have a way of coming out when you least expect it, and even if Daisy goes away and never returns, I can’t live with this hiding in the closet.

His phone rings and Logan’s name pops up on the display screen on the dash.

“Daisy just left,” Logan rushes out as soon as Wes connects the call. “And she said something about finding Jackson one way or another. We think she’s headed to Mom and Dad’s. Owen’s on the phone with Mom now. Dean, Quinn, and Archer went after her.”

“You let Quinn—never mind.” Wes grips the steering wheel. “I’m headed there now. Thanks, Logan.”

Wes hangs up, and I know I can’t drop a bomb on him now. Though maybe it would be a good time. He’s more distracted with Jackson that what I did might not seem so—God, listen to me? I’m going into self-preservation mode again.

And then it hits me. Hard. Harder than the thought of Daisy telling Wes that I took the nanny job thinking I’d sleep with him and would blackmail him into paying me for my silence or something.

She might try to kidnap Jackson.

“Drive faster,” I say through clenched teeth. Wes doesn’t say anything but steps on the gas, jerking the Jeep forward. We make it a few miles before I speak again. “Should you call this in or something? Get a squad car to go to their house?”

“I can get there faster.”

I’m so tense the rest of the way that my back hurts by the time we peel into the gravel driveway of the Dawsons’ farmhouse. The kitchen light is on, as is one upstairs. Quinn and Archer’s Escalade is parked in front of the garage, and they’re just now getting out. Wes really did drive fast.

Wes kills the ignition and rushes out of the Jeep, running to the garage.

“I already disarmed it,” Quinn says, face illuminated by light from her phone. She has to be freaked out almost as much as Weston. I know she loves her nephew fiercely, but Emma is inside too.

Wes pushes the door open, and the five of us rush in. Mr. Dawson is in the kitchen, wearing plaid pajama pants and a white T-shirt. He was obviously settled in for the night and is already putting on a pot of coffee.

“He’s upstairs sleeping,” Mr. Dawson assures Wes, knowing he’s going to go up there anyway. “Mom’s in the room with him. Emma just finished a bottle and went back to sleep too.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Quinn says, shrugging off her coat. She sets it down and wraps her arms around herself. “I’m still shivering.”

“It’s from adrenaline and nerves.” Archer steps in, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Wes disappears up the stairs, needing to see Jackson for himself.

“Well, now you’ve met Daisy,” Dean says, pulling out a bar stool. He sits, letting out a heavy sigh. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?”

“She seems great.” I force a smile, feeling myself slipping back into the shadow of Old Scarlet. It feels weird, though familiar, and I don’t like it. I wasn’t a happy person before I met Weston. I barely got by, and I don’t just mean with money.

Every day was a struggle to keep my head above water. Some days, just waking up and facing the day was hard to deal with. I had no purpose, no drive…no meaning. Life sucked and that was just the way it was. I didn’t think things could ever get better.

That I’d actually be happy.

And yet here I am, feeling it all slipping out from underneath me like sand being washed out with the tide.

“Do you really think she’ll show up?” Quinn asks, sitting down on the floor to pet the dogs. The biggest one—Rufus, I think?—pushes into her lap, and she nervously twists his long fur around her fingers.

“Who knows?” Archer takes a seat next to Dean and shakes his head.

Mr. Dawson gets out coffee cups and sets them on the island counter. I’m still standing awkwardly in the hallway leading into the kitchen, feeling unworthy of sharing the company of these people.

“I always knew she’d show back up again,” Mr. Dawson says. “Thank God Wes filed for divorce and primary custody of Jackson a few weeks ago.” He looks at me and smiles. “We have you to thank for that.”

It’s like the real Scarlet checked out and took a first-class ticket to hell, being forced to watch things unfold before me with no control.

“Yeah, I did push him a little,” I say with a smile. But it’s my fault she’s here in the first place, and it’ll be my fault when Wes learns the truth. Hurting him is the last thing I ever wanted. Even when I hoped he was a rich asshole, I didn’t necessarily want to hurt him. Teach him a lesson in fidelity maybe, but not crush his heart with my bare hands.

And Jackson—oh my God, Jackson. Tears fill my eyes, and I pull my boots off, knowing Mrs. Dawson has a strict no-shoes rule, and start to cross the kitchen, mumbling that I needed to check on Jackson too. I’ve never been upstairs in this house, and each wooden plank creaks slightly under my feet.

Daisy is in town, adamant about seeing Jackson. Most kidnappings happen when a non-custodial parent takes the child. We have a recipe for disaster and I have no idea how long the danger will be there. Everyone is freaked out enough right now, making me think there’s a good chance Daisy will actually try to do it.

Suddenly, the thought of dropping Jackson off at school on Tuesday terrifies me so much dizziness crashes down on me. My heart hurts and I can’t bear the thought of anything bad happening to that sweet little boy.

“Scarlet?” Mrs. Dawson calls softly. I blink away tears and look up the stairs. “Is that you?

“Yeah.” I dash up the rest of the stairs and step into the dim light spilling out of the open bedroom door. Weston’s large frame is bent over a bed. He kisses Jackson’s forehead and pulls up the blankets.

“Come here, honey.” Mrs. Dawson picks up on how upset I am right away and pulls me into a hug. If only she knew…

“Do you really think she’ll do it?” I whisper, not needing to explain what I’m referring to.

“I don’t know.” Mrs. Dawson pats my back, stepping away and motioning for me to follow her. She steps into the room across the hall, going right to the window which looks out at the street in front of the house. “I’ll be honest and say I never really liked Daisy, not even when she was just a teenager. I questioned her faithfulness to Wes while he was deployed, but that’s not the issue at hand.” She lets the curtains fall shut and turns back around to face me.

“Motherhood isn’t easy, and I’ll be the first to admit that. There were times when the idea of running away seemed like a dream come true. But never forever. A childless vacation can be a welcome—and needed—escape, but the thought of being away from my children…” She shakes her head. “I don’t understand how she did it. We thought maybe it was post-partum depression, and Wes did everything he could to find her the first time she left. They weren’t on good terms, but he was worried sick. And then she showed up at Jackson’s first birthday party, acting like nothing happened.”

She lets out a heavy sigh. “I’ve accepted that there are certain things you’ll never understand. People do unspeakable things for reasons that make sense to them and them alone. I’ve stopped seeking answers for questions that shouldn’t be answered.”

“That’s…that’s very wise.” My throat feels thick. Like I might burst into tears or puke or something.

“And don’t worry, honey. Weston cares deeply for you. He’s been smitten from the start. It was pretty obvious.”

I smile, wishing I could close my eyes and erase my past. “Yeah, it was obvious.” The stairs creak, and Quinn stops in the threshold of the room. She’s holding a phone, and the screen is glowing.

“Do you know the passcode to Wes’s phone?” she asks me.

I shake my head. “Why?”

“His motion sensors are going off.” She holds it up, and I see the alerts.

“Try Jackson’s birthday,” Mrs. Dawson suggests.

Quinn looks down at the phone. “Wes wouldn’t be that predictable—well, I guess he is.”

She opens up the security system app, impatiently tapping her fingers on the back of the phone case as she waits for it to load.

“Oh shit. It’s Daisy.”

“What?” Mrs. Dawson rushes over.

“She’s just sitting on the front porch. Looks like she’s waiting for someone to answer the door.” Quinn shakes her head. “She did say she wants to talk to Wes.” With a sigh, Quinn turns and goes down the hall.

And I’m back to not being able to breathe.

My heart beats loudly, echoing in my ears. I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palm. Wes’s deep voice comes from the hallway, and the second he comes into view, I spring forward, wrapping my arms around him.

“Maybe if you ignore her, she’ll go away?” I say, attempting to make a joke. I’m shaking, and Wes holds me against his firm chest. Even now he’s calm and collected.

“I wish.”

“Then we should.” I don’t want to let him go. If I let him go, he’ll talk to Daisy. He’ll find out everything.

“Come get some coffee and something to eat,” Mrs. Dawson says softly. “Jackson and I made chocolate cake that I could use some help eating.”

“That sounds good,” Quinn says. She peeks in at Jackson before turning down the stairs. Mrs. Dawson goes down with her.

“You okay?” Wes asks, running his hands down my arms. “You seem freaked out.”

“Well, it’s not every day your boyfriend’s ex-wife storms back into town and under-the-table insinuates she’s going to kidnap her son.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I interrupt before he can go on. “This’ll blow over, right? It has before.”

“Yeah.” He lets out a deep sigh. “Fuck, it’s weird seeing her.”

“Yeah, that would be. Was she like this the last time she showed up?”

“No, not at all. The last time was even more fucked up. I came home from work and she was just there in the kitchen making dinner like it was something we did every night.”

“That is fucked up.”

“Yeah.” His eyes fall shut for a few seconds. “I don’t have feelings for her anymore. I need you to know that.”

“I know you don’t.”

He cups my face. “You’re the only one I want.”

Tears burn my eyes. Thankfully it’s too dark in the hall for Wes to see them. He puts his mouth to mine, kissing me hard and desperate.

“Do you want cake?” I ask, stepping in closer.

“Yeah.” He rests his head on mine for a moment. Then he steps back, takes my hand and goes downstairs.

The kitchen isn’t nearly as tense as it was a few minutes ago. Mrs. Dawson is talking to one of the twins on the phone, and Dean and Archer are very animatedly telling a story to Quinn about something that happened back in their college days. I can tell by the look on her face this isn’t the first time she’s heard the story.

Mr. Dawson brings Wes a cup of coffee and pats his back. God, this family is perfect, and their faults and flaws are exactly what make it so.

“What’s the plan?” Mr. Dawson asks Wes.

“I don’t know.” Wes takes a drink of coffee. “She’s not going to leave until I talk to her, so I should bite the bullet and just do it. I’ll give her copies of the papers I filed so she knows what’s going on. Part of me doubts she’ll even fight for Jackson.”

Mr. Dawson nods. “I agree. Lay everything out so she knows exactly what’s going on and then tell her if she wants to see or talk to you again, she’ll have to go through the legal system.”

Wes pinches the bridge of his nose. “This is the last thing I need right now.”

Shit, I almost forgot amidst all this chaos that the election is only days away. He told me he wasn’t nervous or stressed over it, but I know better.

“It’ll be okay in the end,” Mr. Dawson assures his son. “She’s been gone his whole life. There’s no way she can take him away from you.”

“Right.” Wes doesn’t look convinced. He takes another drink of coffee. “All right. Time to get this over with.”

I step forward, thinking I’m going with Wes. His face says otherwise.

“I think it’d be best if I go alone,” he tells me.

No. He can’t go alone. Because if he’s alone with her, there’s no telling what she’ll say. I won’t know. I’m slipping into panic mode, and part of me wants to run for the hills, seek cover, and never come back up to see the light of day again.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I put one hand on the counter to steady myself. “I can stay in the car or go inside.”

“It’s late. Stay here. And I’ll grab some things and come back.” Wes frowns. “I don’t want to wake up Jackson and worry him. I’m staying with him tonight.”

“Good idea.” I swallow hard, doing everything I can, not to freak out. My life as I know it might be over in a few short hours. “So you’re going to wait until morning to talk with her?”

“No, I’ll go now. Or else she’ll be on the porch all night and I don’t want attention drawn to this matter. The quieter I can handle this, the better it’ll be for Jackson’s sake.”

“Are you two staying?” Wes asks his sister.

“If Emma wakes up, we can stick her in her car seat and head home,” Archer says. “But I don’t want to wake her up either.” He rests a hand on Quinn’s shoulder.

“You guys can come stay with us,” Quinn says, looking at Wes and then me. “Daisy might not know where we live yet, and I think she’d have a tough time sneaking around or breaking into our house.”

“Right,” Archer says dryly. “We’ll throw a cat at her. We have enough of them.”

“No one is throwing my cats. I was referring to the upgrades I did for our home security system.”

Quinn and Archer’s house is more secure than Fort Knox, and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out they have a panic room.

“Thanks,” Wes says. “But we’ll be fine at home. I’ll talk to her and try to diffuse the situation. If we’re lucky, she’ll be gone by morning.”

Poor Wes. He looks so tired, and I want nothing more than to go home together, taking advantage of an empty house. We’d have sex—and I wouldn’t have to muffle my moans—and then I’d rub his back until he falls asleep.

But after Wes talks to Daisy, there’s a chance that’ll never happen again. And it will be totally my fault.