Don’t make me tell her he died. Don’t make me tell my little girl her father died.
I grit my teeth, but pivot Whitney so that she’s upright–her legs locked around my middle and her arms wrapped around my neck. Andrew pulls himself across the ground, attempting to crawl away. Blood drips from his nose. He’s dazed but alive. I don’t say a word, just bend down as Whitney clings to one side, and grab the dead-beat piece of shit by the back of his shirt with my free hand. I drag him toward the door. He doesn’t try to fight me.
Heat swells as we reach the front, and just as we spill out into the fresh winter air, a Clover-Hills firetruck pulls in. Sirens blare, lights flash. Men and women jump out, already shouting commands and uncoiling their hoses. The Sheriff pulls in right behind them, snow crunching beneath tires.
“Over here!” I shout, jerking my head towards the three of us. The Sheriff beelines for Andrew, while a paramedic I recognize takes Whitney from my arms. She barely leaves my touch before I collapse to my knees. My arms shake as a ball of black fur darts towards me. I barely have time to brace for impact before Benji jumps on me, knocking me backwards and into the snow.
I let a sob escape. He made it out. Theyallmade it out. The biting cold of the snow is the only thing that reminds me to sit back up and push Benji off of me. I spot everyone gathered around my truck. Blake is beside my mom, holding her up as she sobs. Brinley is clutched against Vivienne’s chest as they head towards the ambulance Whitney is in. Wesley runs towards me first, dropping onto his knees and into the snow. His hands clap onto either shoulder, “You okay, man?”
I shake my head, eyes floating past his head and toward the girls. “They could have….” They could havediedis what I try to say. But I can’t even voice the words. My throat tightens like it might close up. My head spins and my eyes burn. It could havebeen worse. It could have been so much worse. Wesley only tightens his grip on me, forcing me to look into his eyes. “They didn’t, Wyatt. They didn’t.”
I glance over to find Sheriff Eaton cuffing Andrew. He’s still bleeding heavy, body jerking left and right as he tries to wiggle free. That just earns him a not-so-gentle nudge onto the hood of the cop car. Rage replaces fear when his smug stare meets mine. This ishisfault. Andrew must be able to feel my mood shift, because he baits me by saying, “She’s mine, and that kid is mine.”
“Don’t,” Wesley warns.
But I do.
I’m not even sure how I manage to stand. My body is a mind of its own. Once Eaton finally has him under control, he tugs and straightens the man out. I use that as an opportunity to stalk forward until I’m close enough to see the bitterness in his eyes and smell the sweat coating his skin. His façade is crumbling and I’m about to snap it in two. “She was never yours,” I say, my voice low. “Not Brinley. Not Whitney.”
Andrew sneers, but I cut him off by grabbing his collar. I yank him close so only he can hear me. “Wyatt.” Eaton and Wesley warn in unison. I think I hear one of them take a step forward. Both calm, but firm enough to remind me it’s not worth it.
“If youevercome near either of them again,” I hiss into his ear, tightening my trip on the collar of his shirt. “I swear to God, no badge or fancy fucking connection will stop what I’ll do to you.”
I let go of him with a sharp shove. He crashes into one of the deputies, spitting at the ground near my feet. “Do you even know who I am?” Andrew shouts, a shadow passing over his face. “She’ll come back. They always do.”
I begin to walk away, content with never speaking to the asshole again–until his next blow stops me in my tracks. “You aren’t her dad. You never will be.”
“And what does that make you?” I bark, swiveling around. I don’t know why it pisses me off so much. What the fuck does he know about it? He isn’t around. Does he know what her laugh sounds like? Did he even worry about her well-being when he started that fire? He tried to take two lives because he gotrejected.“Do you even know her middle name?”
Andrew blinks. “What’s her favorite show? Snack?” I shake my head,“Did you know she can’t sleep without a nightlight?”
I glance toward the little girl curled up into the side of her mom, where a paramedic listens to her lungs. Whitney refuses to look over here. Whether that’s because of me or Andrew, I don’t know. I swallow, surprised to feel a burn growing behind my eyes. So, when I meet his gaze again, I mutter, “I may not be her dad, but I’m hell of a lot more than you’ll ever be to her.”
Chapter Forty
WHITNEY
Brinley is still shaking in my arms. Or maybe I’m the one still shaking. Her tiny fingers are tangled in the collar of my half-ripped and half-bloodied shirt. Her face is buried as far as possible into my chest. I can’t blame her. I’m not sure I’ve even taken a full breath since we got out. I feel like I’m stuck in a nightmare I haven’t woken up from.
The sirens are gone, but the house is still smoldering. Whatever is left of it, anyways. Wyatt… God, Wyatt must be devastated. What does he have left of Ben? How bad is it?
Brinley and I sit in the back of an ambulance, a heat blanket wrapped around us both. Ana just finished checking on us and is over talking with her sons. I feel people buzzing around us. EMTs, firefighters, and cops. Thankfully there’s no nosey ass neighbors on this road.
“Hey, relax. Just try to breathe,” a feminine voice gently tells me. One of the paramedics, I think her name might be Katie. I don’t know. I can’t remember. I wish I did. “She’s okay. You both are.”
Are we? I tug my daughter closer to my chest—if that’s even possible and rest my chin on the top of her head. Despite thewarmth of the blanket and our body heat, I can’t stop the chills that rack me every few seconds.
Before Wyatt took off towards his mom, I caught the tail end of his argument with Andrew. I couldn’t bring myself to watch their interaction. I didn’twantto see Andrew. I couldn’t. I’d either start pummeling him or pulling my hair out, and neither would be helpful.
As a mother, I have never felt fear like that. Even after I got Brinley out, what would happen if she lost me? If she grew up without either of her parents? Would Wyatt stay? Would Vivienne be okay? My inner monologue is interrupted when I hear footsteps crunch against snow. At first, I don’t look up. Uninterested in whoever is approaching. But when I hear Vivienne’s soft voice say “Haden,” I can’t help but peek.
And surprise—I wish I hadn’t. Because Haden is walking towards us, his face is a mask of cold indifference. Haden left before anyone else, so I wasn’t expecting him to show back up here. But the most surprising part is the hand that drags someone else along with him.
Vivienne gasps, “Mom?”
My mother is a mess of matted curls. Ash dusts her cheekbone. Or maybe that’s mud? Her eyes are wild as she yanks at the arm caught in Haden’s grip. “I found her in one of the stalls. Maggie was going crazy.”
The sight of my mother curdles my stomach. I glance sideways, finding that Blake is already beside me. I hand Brinley to her, grateful that she takes her godbaby without a word and whispers comforting words into her ear. Brinley squirms in protest, but Blake holds firm. “Just for a minute, okay? Mama needs to handle something.”
