by Nash, Willa
“Oh, shit,” I groaned. “No. I forgot.”
“Good thing we came to pick you up.” She turned and walked down the sidewalk.
I closed the door behind me and sighed, following her and getting into the back of my brother’s car. It reeked of cigarettes. The same cigarettes he swore he didn’t smoke in the car, just at home.
“Hi,” I muttered.
“Hi.” Zach didn’t offer a smile or glance.
“I guess I just missed you at the White Oak earlier.”
“Yeah, I stopped down to get dinner. Now we get to decorate.” He popped open the console and pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips.
“Seriously?” Larke said. “You’re not smoking that in here.”
Zach found a lighter. “Why? The window’s down.”
“Because some of us don’t feel like smelling like an ashtray,” I snapped. “If you’re going to smoke, I’ll drive myself.”
If Zach wanted to smoke, fine. But he needed to stop telling everyone he quit and subjecting us to his bad habit.
He glared at me through the rearview but put the cigarette and lighter away. Then he grumbled something under his breath before driving down the street.
The community center was the last place I wanted to be tonight—there was a billionaire at the motel I needed to strangle—but this birthday party was a big deal to Mom. I’d be there decorating until she dismissed us, and since we’d agreed to ride together, I was at the mercy of my family’s schedule.
My trip to the motel would have to wait until tomorrow. Then, I’d give him a piece of my mind. If he was still here.
Would he really stick around? Or would he leave again without an explanation?
“Earth to Kerrigan,” Zach said.
I tore my eyes away from my lap. “Huh?”
“We’ve been talking this whole time.” He came to a stop outside the community center. “Want to grab a drink at Jane’s after this?”
“Oh, um . . . maybe.” Maybe not. If Zach and I had been getting along, then yes. But suffering through party prep and the party tomorrow would be enough time with my brother for the week.
The three of us walked inside the community center. Our mother and aunts all rushed around in a flurry of crepe paper and plastic tablecloths and balloons.
“I want you to hang up the Happy Birthday banner between those two posts in front of the stage,” Mom ordered the moment she spotted us.
“Hello to you too,” Larke muttered as she went to search for the banner in the bags of party supplies in the middle of the room.
The center wasn’t much more than a wide, open room. There was an industrial kitchen because most of the time, this hall was used for birthday parties and funerals. At the far side of the space, a stage ran nearly the length of the building. When I was in third grade, the gym at the high school had been getting its floors refinished so we’d had our Christmas program here instead.
The beige walls were sterile and dull. The linoleum floor had been freshly waxed and the reflection from the florescent lights hanging from the tall ceiling was glaring.
The storage room door opened, and my dad emerged with two plastic folding tables, one in each hand. “Zach, help me get these hauled out.”
“I’ll do it,” I said, bypassing him for the storage room.
“Let your brother. These are heavy.”
“I can do it.” Christ. I worked out more than my brother. I didn’t smoke a pack of cigarettes a day. Oh, and I owned a freaking gym.
Dad’s hands were too full for him to stop me from marching into the storage room and hefting a table.
For the next hour, I ran circles around my dad and brother. Each time they tried to take a chair or table from me, I wrenched it free. Each time they told me to help my sister, aunts and mom with the decorations, I simply returned to the storage room for another armful of folding chairs.
It took nearly the entire time to get the room staged, even with three of my cousins showing up to help. I’d shed my coat and sweat beaded at my temples when Dad and I escaped to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Are you all right?” he asked. “You seem upset.”
“I’m great,” I lied.
“Your mom’s worried we won’t have enough seats.”
“We have two hundred seats. That’s the center’s occupancy.”
The room had grown smaller as we’d filled it up, cramming tables and chairs in every available corner. We’d even shortened the buffet line because Mom had wanted one more table for seating.
“She’s a bit stressed.” Dad chuckled. “Thanks for coming to help.”
“Sure.”
“Come on.” He threw an arm around my shoulders and steered me to the room. “Let’s make your mother sit down for a few minutes.”
It wasn’t easy, but when every other person sat down, Mom finally huffed and joined us.
“What do you need for tomorrow?” I asked.
Because Mom was the oldest of her sisters, she’d been deemed chief organizer for this party. Or rather, she’d claimed the title before anyone could object.
“I think once we finish with the decorations, we’ll be set,” she said. “The food and drinks are in the fridge. The cake is being delivered at noon.”
“Zach is picking up Grandma from the home at twelve thirty and the party starts at one,” Dad said. “If you’d like to come around noon to help with last-minute prep, that would be great.”
“You invited Jacob, didn’t you?” Mom asked. She was overjoyed that I’d been dating him. I’d wait until after this party before announcing that his ass was getting dumped.
“Yes.” The invitation had already been extended. But there would be enough people here tomorrow that he’d be easy enough to avoid.
A silence settled over the room, all of us ready to escape. I made the move to stand, thinking it was my chance to disappear, but then my brother shot me a smirk.
“Are you going to take pictures of the party for your little Instagram?”
Little. There was that word again.
How had I not noticed that word until now? It wasn’t the first time any of my ideas had been deemed little, but now it grated on me like sandpaper on smooth skin.
“I wasn’t planning on it,” I said with a fake smile.
“There’s probably no point.” Dad chuckled. “Everyone who sees those pictures will be here themselves.”
That wasn’t true. I had followers outside of Calamity. Not many, but some. And if I did take pictures and post them, it would be to showcase small-town life. It would be to share my grandmother’s ninetieth birthday and a part of what made me, me.
Defending myself would only lead to an argument, so I clamped my mouth shut.
“I ran into Jessa Nickels at the coffee shop earlier,” Larke said.
Shit. My stomach dropped and I widened my eyes at my sister, hoping she’d get the hint that this was not something I wanted to discuss. But she wasn’t looking at me. She was toying with a piece of confetti.
“She said you met with her on Tuesday to look at a place across from the park.”
All eyes at the table swung my direction.
Awesome. “Yes, I did.”
So much for keeping this to myself for a while. I was going to have to find a new realtor. One who hadn’t graduated from high school with my sister and one who would remember to keep my private business private.
“You’re buying another place?” Dad asked.
“Oh, not this again,” Mom groaned.
“You’ve done such an amazing job with your house,” Dad said. “It turned out beautiful. Why not live in it for a while?”
“Because I like having a project.”
“An expensive project.” Zach scoffed. “You just went broke. Didn’t you learn anything from that experience? I’m sure they taught you in college that you have to spend less than you make.”
The tether on my tongue snapped. “Is there a reason why you th
row that in my face all the time? It’s my money. What I do with it is my choice.”
“Until it becomes Mom’s problem.” He swung a hand out to our mother. “She’s got to sit at the gym and cover for you while you take her car and disappear.”
That was months ago. Months. But that was Zach. He loved to store up my indiscretions and save them as ammunition for later arguments.
“Why does my business bother you so much?”
“It doesn’t.”
“Bullshit,” I clipped.
“Hey.” Dad held up his hands. “Let’s take it down a notch. I think what your brother is trying to say is that we don’t want you to fall into the same situation where you’re overextended.”
“I don’t plan to get overextended.”
“Well . . .” Dad sighed. “If you do decide to buy it, just take a loan out from a bank this time. At least they’re local and we can trust them, unlike that other guy.”
“I trusted Gabriel. He was a good man.”
“We know you trusted him,” Larke said, her eyes wide as she mouthed sorry.
“Do you really need another house?” Zach asked.
“It won’t be another house. It will be my house.” Now that my current place was finished, I wanted to buy a fixer-upper and start over again. Both for content and because without anything else to do, I needed the distraction.
“You’re selling your house?” Dad’s forehead furrowed. “But you just finished it.”
“And I’ll finish the next one.”
“While you’re living in a construction zone.” Zach pursed his lips. “What does Jacob say about all of this?”
“I didn’t realize I needed to run this by the guy I’d been dating for a month.” I stood from my chair so fast its legs scraped against the floor. “I need to go.”
Without another word, I turned and strode from the center, picking up my coat before I walked through the door. Once outside, I blew out a frustrated huff, then aimed my feet down the sidewalk toward home. The blocks disappeared in fast, angry strides and when I walked through my front door, I was no less irritated than when I’d left the community center.
What was it going to take for them to support me?
“A miracle,” I barked to the empty house.
The air in the living room held the faintest scent of Pierce’s cologne. I drew in a long breath as I sat where he’d been on the couch.
My mood was his fault. And Jacob’s. And Zach’s. And Dad’s.
Damn these men. Damn Pierce.
He’d come back just when I’d given up on him. He’d come back and kissed me.
He didn’t get to kiss me.
A rush of déjà vu hit hard as I leapt from the couch and sprinted for the door. This time, my sister wasn’t on the other side to stop me. I jogged to my car, climbing behind the wheel, and zoomed down my street to a quiet house six blocks over.
The home was dark except for the blueish light of a television coming from the front bay window. I parked, marched to the porch, raised my fist and knocked.
Jacob answered seconds later, the surprise on his face morphing to an arrogant grin—one I was about to wipe clean. “Hey, come on in.”
“Oh, I can’t stay. I just wanted to stop by and do this in person.”
His eyes narrowed. “Do what?”
“It’s been great hanging out with you this month. But I don’t see us continuing this relationship.”
He blinked, quickly covering up his shock with a neutral frown. “Yeah. I was thinking the same thing at dinner.”
Sure, he was. “Have a good night, Jacob.”
He didn’t say a word as he stepped back and slammed the door. I was already retreating down the sidewalk to my car.
One man down.
One to go.
The motel’s parking lot was nearly empty when I pulled in. The lights underneath the second floor’s exterior hallway illuminated the walkway and the red-painted doors.
This place had been in Calamity for so many years that it had gone out of style and was now on the cusp of returning. The dark wooden exterior fit with the vibe of the town. Western. Rustic. There was an old wagon wheel beside the door to the lobby. Soon, the flower planters would come out and the owners would dazzle the rest of town.
Marcy, the owner of the motel, had the greenest thumb in Calamity. Each year, she hung overflowing baskets of flowers outside each room for the tourists visiting the area.
Pierce’s green Mercedes stood out amongst the midsize sedans and half-ton trucks. It was parked outside room seven. The same room he’d been in last time. Probably because it was the room Marcy and her husband, Dave, had most recently renovated.
Parking beside his SUV, I marched to his door and knocked, squaring my shoulders to deal with Pierce like I’d dealt with Jacob. Efficiently. There was a bottle of wine waiting for me at home.
A shuffling noise came from the room, then the chain slid free and there he was, filling the threshold exactly the way he had his first night in Calamity.
“Hi.” He looked so handsome. So . . . relieved.
“You should have told me.”
“I should have told you.”
I narrowed my eyes.
I didn’t want him to agree with me. I wanted him to fight back, to give me an outlet to get out all of this frustration. With him. With my family. With myself. “I trusted you with everything. All of it. And you left this out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I know.” He sighed. “Will you come in? Please.”
Against my better judgment, I stepped inside.
Pierce closed the door behind us, then walked toward the bed. He dragged a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes were heavy like he’d been asleep.
While he stared at me, I was stuck staring around his room.
A portable crib had been set up in the corner. There was a small bouncy chair at its side. Next to his suitcase was a diaper bag. The TV was on but muted.
Because there was a sleeping baby on the bed.
I took one step, then another, until I was hovering at the foot of the mattress, staring down at the most precious face I’d ever seen.
The baby’s eyes were closed. The long swoops of his eyelashes formed sooty, crescent moons above his rounded cheeks. His arms were raised above his head, his hands in loose fists. His lips formed a little pink bow. A tuft of dark hair rested on his forehead and my fingers itched to smooth it away.
The picture Pierce had shown me hadn’t conveyed the perfection that was this baby boy.
“He’s beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Pierce came to stand by my side and the love on his face twisted my heart. “I didn’t love him. Before he was born. I hate even saying that out loud, but part of me . . . I didn’t want to be a father.”
“You needed to fall in love with him.”
He nodded. “I was scared that if I was too busy falling in love with you, I wouldn’t fall in love with my son.”
The world tilted. The anger vanished.
He’d been falling in love with me.
I hadn’t been alone in this. Somehow that was the realization that soothed the most.
Pierce had been my first real gamble on a man since my ex-fiancé. He’d been the one I’d given a chance. Maybe because he’d told me there was no chance. He’d been safe because I’d known he would walk away. There’d been no fear of commitment because Pierce had promised the opposite.
What I hadn’t counted on was hurting so much when he delivered on that promise.
But he’d come back. He’d come back to me, just like I’d wished. And brought this little boy along too.
Elias rested on a white fleece blanket printed with safari animals. He was dressed in solid-blue footed pajamas.
It was impossible to blame Pierce for his choice. This tiny life had deserved his father’s attention.
As if he could feel my stare, the baby stirred, sq
uirming and screwing up his mouth in a pucker.
“He’s probably hungry.” Pierce flew into action, rushing to the bathroom, where a drying rack was full of bottles and plastic nipples. He mixed some formula with water, shaking it furiously. Then he came back and picked up his son, whose eyes and mouth flew open, ready for a snack.
Pierce rounded the side of the bed, sitting where some pillows had already been propped up. Then he shifted his son to cradle him in a strong arm.
“Stay, Kerr.”
Goddamn it. The picture of them was irresistible.
I walked to the other side of the bed. “For a little while.”
Chapter Seventeen
Pierce
“So.” Kerrigan’s fingers fiddled in her lap.
“So.” I studied her profile, doing my best to keep my heart from galloping out of my chest.
She’d stayed. After I’d left her place tonight, I was sure I’d have to be the one to hunt her down.
Silence stretched as she glanced around the small hotel room.
This was the same room I’d stayed in before, number seven. The white comforter was soft and smooth over the king-sized bed. I’d put the small blanket down for Elias because he tended to spit up and that smell was not easy to get out.
The floor was crowded with Elias’s things. This was our first trip out of Denver and if there was a way to travel light with a baby, I’d failed spectacularly. A portable crib. Diapers. Clothes. Bottles. Formula. Blankets. We had a traveling nursery. I’d brought one suitcase for myself and the rest of the SUV had been packed for the bundle in my arms, who was inhaling his bottle.
“Does he sleep all night?” Kerrigan asked.
“If he goes four hours, it’s a good night. He usually takes a bottle around one or two.”
She hummed, her eyes darting to him before she stared straight ahead to the TV on the wide oak dresser. “Does your nanny help?”
“She does during the day while I’m at work. She helped in the beginning too. But now it’s mostly me and my boy.” I smiled down at him as he chugged.
It was too early to tell if he’d favor my features or Heidi’s, but he had my brown eyes and my dark hair.
“Where is she? The nanny. Didn’t she come along?”
