Waiting for Willa (The Big Sky Series Book 3)

by Kristen Proby

  “Maybe I’m not what she needs,” I reply. “She made it clear a long time ago that she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

  “She was young and hurt,” Gray says. “Hell, we all were. And, yeah, she might tell you to go fuck yourself. But at least you’d have tried.”

  “Why do I feel like this was an intervention?” I ask, propping my hands on my hips.

  “No idea,” Gray says with a smile. “We just came over to drink your beer and beat you at pool.”

  “Maybe the kid is the problem,” Noah says thoughtfully. “Are you hanging back because you don’t want to take on another man’s child?”

  “That’s a shitty thing to say,” I reply. “Alex is a great kid.”

  “Some men wouldn’t want to take on the baggage of someone else’s family.”

  “Some men are assholes,” Christian says with a sigh. “Max isn’t.”

  “No, I’m not,” I agree. “It’s not the kid.”

  “Do something,” Noah repeats. “But first, let’s start that pool game over so I can kick your ass.”

  “You can try.” I follow my friends back inside and watch as Noah sets up the balls to break them. Maybe he’s right. I’ve wasted a lot of time hanging back and steering clear of Willa because I thought it was what she wanted.

  Maybe it’s time I let her go altogether.

  ***

  I’ve been here since before the sun came up. I’m sitting in a camping chair I brought with me with a six-pack of beer next to my feet, keeping cold in the snow. I pop the top of the second one in an hour and reach out to clink the neck of the bottle against the one on the headstone.

  “Nine years,” I say, blowing out a breath. I come here every year on the anniversary of Cary’s death and just sit here, hanging out with him. I drink two beers, leave the rest for him, and then go home to finish getting drunk alone.

  The cemetery sits on the edge of town. It’s pretty much full now, all of the plots either housing someone or sold. Cary sits up on the hill, closest to the railroad tracks, and looks out over the lake and Blacktail Mountain.

  It’s cold this morning. A painful twenty-two degrees to be exact, but I don’t care. I’m bundled up.

  The alcohol helps.

  “Time flies,” I mutter, shaking my head as I watch a train speed by. The whistle pierces the air. “Jesus, I still feel twenty-three. I don’t look it.” I shrug. “I wonder if you would have had grey hair by now like your dad did at thirty.”

  I clear my throat.

  “I’ve managed to keep the grey hair at bay, but I’m told that having salt and pepper hair is distinguishing, so I guess it won’t be so bad.

  “You know what sucks? I need woman advice, and I can’t ask you. Of course, if you were here, I wouldn’t be asking because it’s about Willa, and that makes me feel like a dick. Like I’m poaching on my best friend’s wife, even though I know that’s not the case. And you poached first. Let’s just establish that right now.”

  The whistle blows again, making me smile.

  “Yeah, I know. She’s irresistible. I don’t know what to do, Cary. Part of me thinks I should just keep my distance. Let her go.”

  I take another swig of beer.

  “And the shitty thing is, I’m still so drawn to her, you know?”

  I stare at the headstone, reading it over and over again.

  Cary Edward Monroe

  1987-2010

  Loving Son, Husband, and Friend

  “So, if you could just let me know that you’re not pissed at me for even considering starting something with her, I’d appreciate it.”

  I wait, but there’s nothing. Just silence.

  “Does that mean you’re not okay with it?”

  Nothing.

  “Okay, then. Brad got married about a week ago. He married a nice woman that moved here a few years ago. I like her a lot.”

  And so I spend the next hour, talking to my best friend in the cold, filling him in on my life, and the lives of everyone we know.

  Just when I’m about to get up and leave, I hear footsteps behind me. I shift in my chair and glance back, surprised to see Willa standing there, her hands in her pockets and a bouquet of roses tucked under one arm.

  “Hi.”

  Chapter Three

  ~Willa~

  “HE CAN HAVE CEREAL for breakfast, but don’t let him talk you into hot chocolate as well,” I inform my mom, who’s currently snuggling with my sleepy son on the couch.

  “I’ve been watching my grandson for almost nine years,” she reminds me and kisses Alex’s head. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Right.” I nod and rush to grab my purse and keys, but my keys aren’t in their usual spot.

  I frown, glancing around.

  “Alex?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Have you seen my keys?”

  I immediately curse under my breath as I stomp into the kitchen, bathroom, and my bedroom, looking around for them.

  I hate today. Today is the worst day of the year. If I didn’t have a little boy to see to, I’d spend it under the covers.

  But I do have a son, and I’m stronger than that.

  Or, at least I tell myself I am.

  “You had them when you drove the car,” Alex replies, making me smile. Why would I ask an almost nine-year-old if he’s seen my keys?

  And why can’t I find them?

  “Are they in your purse?” Mom asks.

  I look through it, blowing out a breath when I don’t find them.

  “Nope. They’re here somewhere.” I open the fridge because I did that once before when I was super tired, and Alex had the flu. But they’re not there. On a whim, I open the pantry, and…score! There they are. “Found them!”

  “Where were they?”

  “The pantry.” I walk back into the living room as I pull on my coat. “I don’t remember putting them there, but at least I found them.”

  “Are you okay?” Mom asks, and I know it’s not about the keys.

  “Yeah. I won’t be long.”

  “Take all the time you need,” she says.

  “See you in a bit, Bubba.”

  “Bye, Mom.”

  “Oh!” I rush back, poking my head into the living room. “He had a shower last night, so—”

  “Willa, my love,” Mom interrupts me with a soft smile. “We’re fine.”

  “Right.” I nod. “Thanks. See you later.”

  I wave and walk out to my car in the garage. It’s been giving me trouble lately. I should replace it, but I just paid the sucker off, and I’m determined to get through two years payment-free, so I’ll make an appointment to have it checked out later this week.

  The drive to town is uneventful. It’s a cold Sunday morning. The roads are clear of snow and not busy at all. Most people are either at church or still in bed.

  Where I’d like to be.

  I don’t know why I do this every year. Cary isn’t in that casket. I often feel him around me, and I talk to him all the time. He’s not at the cemetery.

  Yet, I go. Every single year. I always take a bouquet of red roses. Some years, the snow is deep, and I have to uncover his headstone. But it’s been a dry year. Cold, but without a lot of snow.

  I park my car along the small drive about a block away from where Cary is, zip up my coat and grab my gloves, and head out, crunching through the snow between the headstones, and see someone already at Cary’s grave.

  It looks like he’s talking. He’s sitting in a red camping chair, bundled up in ski gear and a hat, but I’d know those shoulders anywhere.

  Max.

  I don’t know why I’m surprised. Max was Cary’s best friend and was with him when he died.

  Of course, he misses him.

  I don’t want to startle him, but I also don’t want to hang back and be a creeper, so I keep walking closer, my boots crunching the hard snow. Max turns.

  “Hi,” I say softly.

  He raises a beer. “Come join us.”<
br />
  I cock a brow and walk closer, noticing the beer at Max’s feet, and the open one on Cary’s headstone.

  “I always wondered who brought the beer,” I say when I walk around Max and set the roses next to the brew. “I should have known.”

  “Want one?” he asks.

  “Actually, that sounds good. It’s five o’clock somewhere, right?”

  “That it is,” he says, pops the top on a bottle, and passes it to me. I take a swig, surprised that it feels good on my throat despite the bitter cold.

  “Do you need a ride home?”

  Max’s lips twitch the way they always did when he was particularly amused by me.

  “I only have two, then I leave the rest for him.”

  I nod and take a deep breath. “I’ve never minded the cold, you know.”

  He nods.

  “I think it feels nice.” I take another swig of beer and sit on the snow, leaning against Cary’s headstone.

  “I should leave you be,” he says, moving to stand, but I hold up a hand.

  “Wait.” I clear my throat. “I have some things to say, and I think this is a good place to say them.”

  He stands, and I think he’s going to leave anyway, which I wouldn’t blame him for, but the next thing I know, he reaches for my hand, pulls me to my feet, and gestures for me to sit in his chair before sitting in my spot on the ground.

  “You shouldn’t sit on the ground, Wills,” he says softly after settling on the snow. “What do you want to say?”

  “That I’m sorry,” I blurt and blink rapidly, making this up as I go because I didn’t expect to see him here today. “I want to apologize for what I said to you that day.”

  “You don’t need to.”

  “Yeah, I do.” I nod and take a sip of beer. “I was angry, Max. Not just at you, but at Cary and, well, the universe. I took it out on you. It was like all of the grief and the pain just boiled up, and I spewed it all over you.

  “It wasn’t your fault that Cary died, Max. He was a thrill-seeker, especially when it came to skiing. He loved it. I can’t even count how many times I told him to stop going out of bounds because it wasn’t safe. He would just pat me on the head like I was being cute and do it anyway.”

  Max takes a deep breath, and I swear his shoulders sag as if a huge weight has been lifted off them. Jesus, has he been carrying that around all of these years because of me?

  The thought of that tears a hole in my heart.

  “You lost him, too. It took me a long time to see that I wasn’t the only one who was grieving. I know that makes me selfish.”

  “No, it makes you human,” he replies, and my gaze catches his for a long moment. My God, I loved him. Once upon a time, he was everything to me.

  “I was incredibly angry with you,” I admit and watch as his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t drop his gaze from mine. “But my anger was layered.”

  “In what way?”

  “You left me,” I remind him. “And you didn’t come back. You were my life for years, and suddenly, you were just gone. I was sure that something was wrong with me.”

  “No,” he says adamantly, shaking his head.

  “I was seventeen, Max. Of course, I thought it was me. You were gone, and Cary missed you, too. We definitely leaned on each other through that, and I fell in love with him, and we built a life together. But I never shook my anger for you. And then, you came back out of the blue, and, well, you know the rest.”

  “Your husband died on my watch,” he finishes.

  “Yeah. Men leave me, Max.” I gasp, mortified that I said it out loud, but Max just narrows his eyes in curiosity.

  “Keep going.”

  “Is this therapy with Cary?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.

  “You said it was a good place for it,” he reminds me. “Are you too cold?”

  “No.” I sniff, the chill in the air making my nose drip. “I was close to my gramps,” I remind him. “And he died. Then you left. My daddy died a couple years later.”

  “I liked your dad very much,” Max says.

  “He liked you, too,” I whisper. “Then Cary.”

  “I always planned to come back,” Max admits, surprising me. “For you.”

  “What?”

  “I thought that once I left for college, you’d miss me enough that when I came back for your graduation, I could talk you into leaving with me. I realize that was a stupid way of thinking.”

  “You didn’t come back.”

  “When I spoke with Cary, he told me that he was dating you, and after you graduated, he asked you to marry him.”

  “I didn’t know,” I murmur, listening to the train whistle.

  “Would it have changed anything?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “I still wouldn’t have wanted to move away from Cunningham Falls, so, maybe not.”

  “I guess it’s a waste of time to think about what-ifs.”

  “If it had changed things, I wouldn’t have Alex, and I wouldn’t wish him away for anything.”

  “He’s a great kid. He looks just like Cary.”

  “I know.” I smile, thinking about my handsome boy. “He even has some of the same mannerisms, which fascinates me because he never met Cary.”

  “I’m sorry,” Max says, tears swimming in his brown eyes. “For all of it, Wills. Hurting you is the last thing I ever want to do.”

  “I know,” I say and reach out to pat his shoulder. “I know that. And I’ve let go of a lot of the anger. I can’t be a happy woman and raise a well-rounded son if I dwell on the bad things. I’ve had some therapy, and I am content with my life.”

  “I’m glad,” Max says with a nod. “You’ve done a great job with your store. All of the women rave about it.”

  “Thank you. I love it. It’s what I always wanted.”

  Except you, I think. I don’t have Max. But I have so much.

  “I’m really glad that I ran into you here,” I say with a smile. “I needed to apologize, and I need for things to not be awkward between us. We have the same friends, and we move in the same circles.”

  “I was staying away from you because you told me that’s what you wanted,” he says with a shrug.

  “Well, now we’ve cleared the air.”

  The train whistle blows once more.

  “I’ve always thought the whistle was Cary talking to me.”

  Max’s lips twitch. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. Stupid, isn’t it?”

  “No. No, it’s not stupid.”

  ***

  “I’m cold,” Alex says a few days later as we sit in my dead car on the side of the highway.

  “I know, baby. I’m sorry. The tow truck should be here anytime.”

  “Why did the car die?” he asks.

  Because the universe is out to get me today.

  “I don’t know. We’ll have a mechanic look at it and fix it up.”

  He sits back in the seat, hugging his coat to him. It’s dark outside, and I’m stranded on the side of the road with my almost-nine-year-old in a dead car. I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as when the vehicle lost power, but at least I was able to guide it off the road and avoid an accident.

  “Maybe that’s the tow truck,” Alex says as someone pulls up behind us.

  Wouldn’t a tow truck pull up in front of me?

  “Maybe,” I murmur, watching in the mirror as the vehicle’s lights cut off, and a man gets out of the SUV, walking to mine. “It’s Max.”

  “He drives a tow truck?” Alex asks, excitement in his voice. Alex loves all vehicles. I swear, he might be a tow truck driver someday.

  “No, he doesn’t.” Max knocks on my window, and I open the door. “Hi.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “It’s dead. I’m waiting for the tow truck.”

  “Come sit in my car,” he offers. “It’s warmer.”

  I would decline, but my son is shivering, so I nod. “Thanks. Come on, buddy
, Max is going to let us warm up in his car.”

  “Awesome,” Alex says, immediately jumping out.

  “Go get him,” I say in a panic, and Max is already gone, taking Alex by the hand and leading him to the back of his Mercedes SUV. “Thanks,” I say when I get in the passenger side.

  “Wow!” Alex says, looking around the interior of the luxury SUV in awe. “Your car is super cool. Mom, look at all of the knobs!”

  “I see them.” I smile over at Max, who’s just grinning at Alex’s enthusiasm.

  “This car is way better than ours. We should get one,” Alex says, making me giggle with him.

  “I think we’ll just get our car fixed,” I reply, not even wanting to think about how much the Mercedes costs. The boxy SUV is on my bucket list for when my store becomes a franchise.

  A girl has to have goals.

  Finally, the tow truck arrives, but when I move to climb out of the car, Max puts a hand on mine.

  “You stay here and get warm. I can talk to him. Where do you want it towed?”

  I give him the name of my mechanic, and he nods, then hops out and approaches the man. It’s begun to snow, of course, making it more difficult to see.

  I’m exhausted. It’s been a long, long day. Alex came to the shop after school, and I had to help him with homework as I also assisted customers. My part-time help, Krista, quit on me. I’ve been battling a headache, and then my car died.

  I just want to go home, get into my comfy clothes, and drink a trough of wine.

  Max returns to the SUV and climbs in. “He’s good to go. Are you hungry?”

  “I’m so hungry,” Alex says.

  “Let me take you out to dinner. Pizza?”

  “Pizza! Yes!” Alex says before I can politely decline.

  “It’s kind of late to cook,” Max reminds me, and I nod.

  “Pizza would be great.”

  Max pulls out onto the highway, then turns around to head back into town.

  “Are we interrupting your evening?” I ask.

  “I was just headed home, and I saw you there, so I decided to rescue you.”

  I laugh and shake my head. “I had a tow truck on the way.”

  “And then what?” he asks.

  “He would have given us a ride to his shop, and I would have called my mom.”

  “Well, now you don’t have to do that. I’ll feed you and give you a ride home.”