Heartless: Chapter 32
Cade: Willa is heading to your place. Can you let me know when she’s there safe, please? She’ll need the guest room.
Harvey: What did you do to her?
Cade: Why is that the first place your head goes?
Harvey: Because you have a knack for ducking things up.
Cade: Ducking?
Harvey: Duck off. You know exactly what I mean.
Cade: My fingers are broken. Thanks for your concern.
Harvey: My only concern is about possible brain damage since you let your girl walk out. She’s here safe.
Cade: My brain is fine.
Harvey: Could have fooled me.
Idon’t need a night alone to gather my thoughts at all. But I could tell by the expression on her face that she did. I’ve seen that look before—a deer caught in the headlights.
Willa prides herself on going with the flow, but now she hit the rapids and she’s freaking out. A lot has changed for her in a very brief time. I remember this feeling well, but it’s different this time around.
I’d rather she freaks out with me, but I also know better than to smother someone as independent as her, which is why I let her drive away.
But I jump in my truck and follow her to the main house, not about to sit at home alone when she and Luke are both under one roof.
Where they go, I go. It just feels right.
I pull up and kill my engine, eyes locked on the guest room window. When the light turns off, I get out and make my way inside through the front door. I should probably be thinking about a new baby—and I will—but right now, all I can think about is Willa. Soothing her. Holding her.
Keeping her.
When I step into the dimly lit living room, I catch sight of my dad in his deep leather recliner, a glass of bourbon in his hand.
And he’s grinning at me like a fucking loon.
“What are you smiling at?”
“You made the right decision for once.”
I glare at him. “For once? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Pour yourself a drink, sit down, and drop the asshole act with me, kid. It doesn’t scare me one bit.”
With a heavy sigh, I head to the kitchen and pour myself a very hefty three fingers of bourbon before heading back to the living room and flopping down onto the couch.
“You made the right decision coming after her. You start storming out on each other this early on and you’ll be in for trouble.”
“She didn’t storm out. She just needed space.”
“I can see needing space from you.” I scowl at him. “What did you do?” he asks, adding insult to injury.
“Nothing.” I pause, tipping my head. “Well, not nothing-nothing. Something came up and I could have reacted better. I froze.”
My dad’s hawkish eyes narrow as he regards me. “This have to do with Talia?”
I wave a hand and scoff. “No.” Talia waltzed in, stirred shit up, and took off again. Flaky as always.
“Well, fill me in. Maybe your old man can help.”
My head flops back against the couch, a wry laugh bubbling up out of me. “She’s pregnant.”
I can feel my dad’s stare, see him take a thoughtful sip out of the corner of my eye. “Did I let you watch the bulls get turned out with the heifers too much as a child, boy?”
I groan.
“You got something against condoms?”
“Dad.”
“Some sort of breeding kink I don’t know about?”
I throw an arm over my eyes. “Never talk to me again. That you even know that term is altogether too much information.”
“Why are you sitting out here with me?”
“Because I stared at her blankly and said nothing when she told me. I kept running through all the things I wanted to say to her and then just clammed up. I don’t want her to feel trapped by me, or by this.” I swivel a finger around, gesturing to the ranch.
“Did you ask her if she feels that way?”
“No. I just asked over and over again why she had a carrot in her purse like a total dolt.”
“Listen, I don’t want to hear about whatever weird shit you kids are into.”
“Holy shit. Please just kill me before you say something else that makes me want to clean my ears with acid.”
My dad carries on, undeterred, but I can hear the humor in his voice. He’s having fun watching me squirm. “You two need to talk. I know Talia fucked you up, but don’t let her fuck this up for you too. If you want that girl and that baby, you need to tell her. If you don’t, then you need to work some—”
Rage flashes through my body, hot and sharp at the mention of me not wanting her. “I do,” I bite out harshly. “I want that. I want it all.”
“Then stop Eeyoring around out here with me, you grumpy dumbass. I’m going to bed. Y’all kids exhaust me.”
His glass clanks against the table, and he retreats to bed without another word. And me? I take my drink and pad quietly through the house. To Willa’s door.
I drop myself onto the floor and lean against the wall. I plan to wait until she’s had the night to herself so I can toss her over my shoulder and carry her back to our house.
She might need time to think about things.
But I sure as shit don’t.
I wake up when I fall and hit the floor at Willa’s feet.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Pushing up on my hands back to sitting, I shake my head to clear the cobwebs and the light ache that too much bourbon has left behind. Scrubbing my palms over my eyes, I stare up into the face of the woman I know I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.
I flop back against the doorframe and stare at her for a minute. Really take her in.
She’s fucking perfect.
“Are you drunk?” Her eyes land on the empty glass beside me. “Why are you staring at me?” Her arms cross over her body, and she pops a hip out.
“I’m not drunk.” Anymore.
“Did you sleep out here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”
“Ugh.” Her eyes shut and her head tips back. “That’s really romantic.”
“I didn’t need time to gather my thoughts at all.”
Her head snaps down now. “Yeah? Is that why you sat there all wide-eyed, asking about my carrot?”
I laugh because I can’t help it. “I do want to know about the carrot. But I was wide-eyed because I was trying to gauge you and see how I should react. I’m sorry I stayed silent. There are a lot of things I should have said.”
She sighs heavily and then slides down the opposite side of the doorframe to face me. “You accidentally knocked a woman up once who upended your whole life by pretending she was on birth control, so I can see how the nanny who told you she’s on birth control getting pregnant might freak you out.”
My brows furrow. “Willa—”
“I swear I didn’t lie. I swear I’m taking my pills. Winter said that when I was sick, they probably didn’t stay down and that might have fucked it all up, and I didn’t even think about it, and even though I’ve thought about having like a million babies with you one day, I just absolutely did not do this on purpose, even though I’m actually not that sad about it, which sounds awful, because like, I don’t want to trap you with me, so like—”
“Willa!”
Her eyes widen dramatically as she leans back a little. I reach forward and plunk her bare feet into my lap with my good hand. “You’re going to collapse a lung talking in run-on sentences like that, baby. And there’s no one I’d rather be trapped with.” She blinks at me, and I rub my thumbs along the arches of her feet and up her ankles.
“I haven’t shaved my legs.”
I chuckle. “I don’t care. Don’t you get it? I’m in love with you, Willa. Prickly legs, random carrots in your purse, pregnant, not pregnant. I want you.”
Tears spring up in her eyes, and her voice is raspy when she says, “But this has happened to you before, and I don’t want to be lumped in with that shit. I don’t want you being with me out of some sort of obligation. We haven’t even told people about us. We haven’t figured a single thing out. You’ve never told me that you love me. But now I’m pregnant and that’s all going to happen? It just feels . . . forced.”
“Willa.” I can hear an edge of panic to the tone I’m using. “Nothing is forced. We were on this track already. We’re not two people who were unhappy and now are trying to make something work that wasn’t working before. We were happy.”
“Yeah. We were. But this is your personality. This is you swooping in to be responsible before you’ve even processed what this means because your first instinct is to take care of everyone before you take care of yourself.”
I can only blink at her. This conversation is not going the way I expected it to.
“Willa, stop—”
“No.” She holds her hand up. “For all the times you’ve told me to shut up and listen, it’s now your turn, Cade.”
She pulls her feet away and pushes up to stand. “I don’t want to be another obligation in your life. Another burden. Another reason you’re missing out on all the things you always wanted to do. And maybe I’m not. Maybe this is a happy accident. But getting injured, followed by finding out shocking, life-altering news, followed by getting drunk on the floor”—she points at the empty glass beside me—“isn’t the right recipe to be rushing into something like this.”
Her sigh is heavy, and one stray tear rolls down her cheek. I raise my hand, needing to wipe it away for her. “I’m going to go back to my place in the city—”
My mouth opens to argue, but her eyes narrow and she makes this zipping motion with her hand that ends in pinching her fingers together before she continues, “For a few days. I want to see my doctor and confirm things. And I want you to spend some time thinking. I want to know that this isn’t some shotgun relationship built on failed birth control and a stupid stomach bug. So don’t follow me. You have options, and you are free to take them. I want you to let yourself consider your options, because no one has ever really given you any options, Cade. And you deserve them.”
I can feel my entire body slumping deeper with every word she says. I know in my heart what’s right. But the things she’s saying about me and my life? They’re true. And I’ve spent so many years working to fix everything around me that I’ve never just sat here and let myself feel sad about the fact I’ve never really considered my options.
She crouches before me now, framing my face with her palms. “More than anything in the world, I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy.”
Her lips press gently to my forehead, and then she steps over me, scooping one hand down to pick up the discarded glass before walking away.
Every part of me wants to go after her, but sometimes loving someone means giving them the space they want. The space they need. For a little while, at least.
So instead, I just sit here. Thinking about my options. About how Willa is the only option I want.
And about how I’ll respect her wishes until I can’t take it anymore.
Then I’m throwing her over my shoulder and bringing her home.