Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)

by Elsie Silver

“How many times does a woman need to proposition you before you know she wants you to keep going, Eaton? Like, do you really need to hear me keep saying it out loud?” My eyes drop, and my hands shape her waist, sliding up to the base of her breasts. I breathe deeply around the heavy thud of the blow she just unknowingly delivered. When someone else chooses other men over you, I think you do need to hear it. At the very least, I want to hear it. Because Willa wanting me seems wholly unlikely. Totally crazy. Plus, hearing her say she wants it might be the sexiest thing in the world. I lift my chin and gaze into her bright emerald eyes. “Yeah, Red. I really need to hear you say it out loud.”

“Is that what this is? A relationship?” I realize I want him to say yes—take control of how out of control I’m feeling around him—and tell me how this is going to work. Because I want something to work. But he says, “It’s whatever you’re comfortable with, Red. We can let it be gradual. We can skip a label. We can figure it out when the time comes. But whatever it is, it’s important to me. You’re important to me.”

“You’re in love with my best friend, aren’t you?”

I cross my arms over my chest and look away. Love. I was never sure I could love someone in the way everyone talks about it. My heart has taken too many shit-kickings over the years. My mom. Talia. What Talia meant for the course my life took. All the things I missed out on, which I hate to even mention because I have Luke. But I’d be a liar if I said I never thought about what I might have done differently had life dealt me a different hand. Maybe I’d be rodeoing. Or traveling all over North America, rolling in the cash that comes from selling top-of-the-line horses. Maybe I’d be training all day and riding buckle bunnies all night. All those maybes. But as I watch Willa put little weighted clips on the tablecloth so nothing blows away, I know that none of those maybes would have been right. The hand dealt to me is what brought her to my front step.

“You kept these?” I demand, sounding petulant even to myself. “You told me you threw them away.” “I lied,” he grits out. “Why?” “Because you’ve never been just the nanny, Willa.” My chest lurches as I look back at him, feeling suspended in time. “You’ve always been more. The woman I wanted but wouldn’t let myself have.”

“I’m not mad about whatever Talia told you because I don’t give a fuck about her and her antics. I have Luke. Wouldn’t trade him for the world. How that came about doesn’t even matter anymore because I truly just do not care.” My heavy breathing acts as a backdrop to the deep rasp of his voice. “Do you know what I care about though?” His fingers bite into my skin. “You, Willa. I care about you. You have nothing—and I mean nothing—to be jealous of.”

“Ready?” he asks with an outstretched hand and a lopsided smile on his face. A dimple I never even noticed has popped up. He looks boyish and beautiful. And like he might be mine after all.

turning to Sloane. She’s standing beside Violet but has her full attention on Jasper, like she has since she was a kid. And he’s fucking clueless, like he has been since he was a kid.

He says they’re “good friends.” And maybe they are, maybe I’m reading into something that isn’t there. All I know is that in those early days, everyone looked at Jasper like he might come apart at any moment. But Sloane looked at him like he hung the moon.

Jasper hops off his horse, giving the girls a soft smile. He ruffles Violet’s hair before congratulating Sloane. She reaches for him, and he wraps her in a bear hug, resting the palm of his hand against the back of her head as she presses her forehead to his chest.

I chuckle and smile the rest of the way to the hospital because there is only one person in the world who could make me laugh in a moment like this. It hits me hard as we drive in a companionable silence that Willa is that person. My person.

“What?” she snaps primly, nose tipped up as she stares down at her nails. I’ve known Winter since we were teenagers. When Summer was in the hospital, we spent some time together. Winter isn’t as bad as everyone has made her out to be. She’s been dealt a shit hand. One that money and education can’t undo. What Winter is missing is love. I stare at her, breathing more heavily than the distance I just covered warrants. “I just want to give you a hug,” I say. Her long lashes blink slowly, and she’s forced to look up at me because these sisters stopped growing at like twelve or something. “A hug?” I realize now how rough she looks. Too thin. Too tired. “Yes, girl.” I open my arms. “Get your scrawny ass over here.” She glances away for a moment, like the bag of hickory sticks in the vending machine is super interesting. And then her shoulders droop and without meeting my eyes, she steps into my arms. She sighs when she does, and so do I.

It’s amazing how the adults around you can fuck everything up. That’s what happened with Summer and Winter—and I was there to watch it all go down. I was also there in the hospital, sitting by Summer’s bedside, when Winter would sneak out of the house to be with her too. But only if Summer was sleeping. It’s an unspoken secret Winter and I have kept for years. Everyone thinks Winter didn’t care, but I know better. She loves her little sister, even though her mom has made her feel like she shouldn’t. Even if she doesn’t know how to show it.

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.

“Did you sleep out here?” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because I didn’t like the idea of you being alone.”

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.

“Just don’t make him wait too long, Wils,” she whispers against my ear. “He is heartbroken without you.” The way she emphasizes heartbroken is my undoing. I soak the shoulder of her shirt, because the truth of the matter is I thought I needed space . . . But I’m heartbroken without him too.

“Do you have any coins? I want to make a wish.” Weight lands in my stomach and my lungs constrict. Such a simple request, and yet it feels intensely meaningful. I’m doing with my little boy what my mom once did with me.

When I open my eyes, Luke is staring at me with a thoughtful expression on his face. “What did you wish for?” I ask him, needing something lighthearted. Thinking it will be something ridiculous. Something frivolous. Instead, he delivers a gut punch. One soft cheek hitches up, and he glances back down into the dark well. “I wished for Willa to come back.” My eyes burn when I pull him into me, feel his tiny arms clutching at my waist. And my voice cracks when I say, “Me too, pal. Me too.”

“Okay. But first I want to show you the sidewalk we made.” He threads his small fingers through mine and pulls me off the gravel driveway to the freshly poured walkway. Like, I think it might actually still be wet. When we get closer, the wet concrete confirms my suspicions. I can smell that chalky scent permeating the surrounding air, but it’s what’s decorating the walkway that stops me in my tracks. There are shiny stones pressed into the concrete, laid out in the shapes of hearts, running the full length of the walkway. “Plain was boring. So we decorated! They’re like that day we used chalk on the driveway at the main house!” Luke exclaims. I peek up at Cade. “Like Valentine’s Day threw up everywhere?” His lips twitch and he just nods. “And then up here”—Luke drags me toward the house—“we wrote our initials inside the hearts.” “I love that!” I exclaim, giving him a firm side hug.

He nods happily, biting at his lip, and looking so damn proud. “And this one is yours.” He points at a heart that’s right next to one with the initials C.E., except this one says W.E. “My initials are W.G., bud.” I give him another squeeze and he giggles. Cluelessly. “I know. But dad made that one. I told him the same thing.” My head snaps around to Cade, who still hasn’t moved but is staring at me like I might disappear if he blinks. “But he said they wouldn’t be for long.”

After one last hug, Luke bounds up the stairs to the front door. But just like he’s done once before, he stops and looks back at Cade and me with a pleased smile on his face and says, “See, Dad? I told you not to be sad. I told you she’d come back. Our wishes came true! She loves us too much to leave.”

I glance over my shoulder, seeking that flash of coppery hair. And she’s there, smiling, gripping the metal fence panel with one hand, the other slung over her stomach, looking at me like I hung the moon—and for her I would. I’d do it for everything she’s given me in such a short time . . . A love Luke has never known. A reason for me to smile again. A person to talk to after so many years of silence. A love I’ve never known.

That laugh I heard months ago and was instantly obsessed with. Just like the woman staring back at me from beneath the brim of my hat when I toss a glance over my shoulder. And I realize in that moment maybe I am heartless after all, because the beautiful girl with the copper hair grinning back at me right now is the one who stole it.