“I have a niece and a nephew, thank you very much.”
Okay, that’s a shock. I’ll give him that. Haden doesn’t talk much about his family. If I cared to pry, I’d be curious if that means he has a brother or sister. Or both. And why he’s in Clover-Hills, if they aren’t?
“I’m just saying, having a pretty girl stay in your house is never something to be upset about. But a toddler? You’re in for a couple of restless nights and endless dishes.”
I choose to ignore thepretty girlcomment. It wasn’t even a thought, though. My mom and dad had Wesley a good five years after me, so I’m no stranger to how kids work. And I don’t mind a messy house or a fussing child. If anything, a flicker of excitement sparks in me at the idea of lending a hand with Brinley. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for Whitney as a single mom.
When I found out Whitney was pregnant, how far along she was solidified that Brinley wasn't mine.
I have an inkling of who her father is, but zero understanding of why the hell he isn't a part of their lives.
The endless scenarios burn through me like whiskey on an empty stomach. I pause my steps, shooting Haden a look that would send most people running. "I can handle it."
“For both your sakes, I hope you can.” He claps me on the shoulder, leaving me alone in the field where all my doubts don’t hesitate to come rushing back to the surface.
Chapter Five
WHITNEY
Vivienne
You guys holding up okay? I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it back tonight.
We’re fine. No need to worry. Running some errands now.
Are you sure you’re comfortable staying with Wyatt? We can figure something out at my place.
You could always call mom.
I appreciate the concern, but it's not happening. We’ll be okay.
Ituck Brinley closer into my side as I close out my texts with Vivienne. This isn’t the first time she’s tried to get me to talk to our mother. Probably won’t be the last. She texts me again, but I ignore it in favor of not starting a fight. Dry leaves crunch beneath my boots as I walk through the town square with Brinley on my hip. It's creeping towards the beginning of October, and autumn has slowly begun taking over Clover-Hills.
I've always loved how the air permanently smells like rain and mist, and how the sky is darker–as if a cozy filter has been blanketed over the entire town. And then there's the early morning fog–romantic in a way I just can't explain.
The sharp chill that singes the tip of my nose pulls me from fall day-dreaming and reminds me to browse Dusty Layne Boutique before we head back to Wyatt's.
Wyatt was pretty dead set on me taking time to reset before jumping into work. I haven't told him that I already called Ana, who really was more than excited to take Brinley during the days I needed her.
Wyatt will probably be fuming with me over it, but I don’t care. I hate the idea of not earning our keep. The last thing I want is any handouts, least of all from Wyatt Conway.
I'm surprised to find myself so relieved over Ana agreeing to babysit Brinley. Normally, I find myself panicked at the idea of someone that's not me, Vivienne, or Blake caring for her. But Brinley and I adore Ana. I'm positive she couldn't be in more capable hands.
I keep my eyes locked on the Clover-Hills Diner, doing my best to avoid glancing to the right. I know there’s a crew still cleaning up. Yellow tape wrapped around the scene. I know if I peek, I’ll see what I’ve already been told. That it’s demolished. That there’s nothing left but rubble. I’m not ready to see it.
I inherited a modest sum when my father decided to retire early and travel the world, cashing out his life savings. He never wanted to stick around and be a parent, but he always made sure I had what I needed. I think it was more out of obligation rather than love.
At first, I was so pissed that I refused to use the money. I wassoclose to donating it or just pulling it out of the bank to dump it into the lake out of spite. But instead, I kept it. I figured it was the least that I was owed after practically raising myself. I usedevery last penny to buy the building. At the time, I didn’t know what I would do with it, I just knew it would give me a roof over my head.
For about a year, I busted my ass between two jobs, being a waitress and a bartender out of town, and when I saved up enough, I decided to open up a coffee and book shop. I loved both so deeply, I couldn’t choose between the two. It was a huge gamble, especially at my age, but it paid off in the end.
It was the first thing I ever did forme.
I blink back the emotion clouding my eyes and forge ahead. When the bell to the diner chimes overhead, every set of eyes inside swivel in our direction. Before I can book it back outside, Brinley starts wiggling in my arms like a rabid dog. I set her down with shaky arms, and opt for holding her hand while we walk to the front counter.
It doesn't evade me how busy it is in here. I'm sure my loss is a huge win for them. And while I'm genuinely happy for their business, I’d be lying if I said it doesn’t sting a little.
Every step across the checkered tiles feels like I’m walking through glass. Like there’s a spotlight and I’m on full display. Eyes track me, and heads dip to converse with their tablemates.
