Conchita didn’t know the details. Didn’t know the full story. But apparently, because she had a hundred grandchildren, she considered herself an authority.
“They’re not supervised. He leaves the room and sometimes works in the garage or in the backyard. I’m alone with her a lot.”
“She’s your daughter. You’re not the babysitter,” Conchita said.
She had a point. So far Molly hadn’t made any mistakes, and damn it, she’d been the one to take care of Sierra on her own for six months. She could take care of her own daughter, thank you very much.
“You’re right. I’m going to talk to him about this.”
* * *
SIERRA DIDN’T USUALLY want to be held unless it was bedtime, or if she wanted to reach the window so she could watch Dylan at work in the backyard.
Molly picked her up and Sierra pointed to the window. Her little legs kicked in joy. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.”
Most of the time, Molly couldn’t blame Sierra. Like today. Dylan was working on pruning the apple tree and had pushed up a ladder to get to the tallest branches. He’d pulled his shirt off, and the sweat glistened on his back, making his muscles stand out. He was all man, that one, and he didn’t make it easy for Molly to forget it. Almost like he threw it in her face, sometimes—making her regret she’d left.
Today they were going to talk about their little arrangement, one way or another. But when she’d arrived this afternoon, it was clear Dylan had mapped out the day as usual. So she’d played with Sierra and fed her a peanut butter sandwich. Watched Beauty and the Beast with her and tried to distract her from the windows. But Sierra, it would seem, couldn’t be dissuaded too long from seeing her daddy. It didn’t help that he was in the backyard, one of her favorite places on earth.
Molly opened the window. “She wants you, Dylan.” So did she, for that matter, not that he cared.
“Hi, Daddy! Hi! Me out,” Sierra squealed.
“Not now, sweetie. Keep her inside, Molly. I’ve got too many tools lying around. She could get hurt.”
“All right.” Molly shut the window and put Sierra down, who whined. “Let’s go see if there are any more of those cookies.”
It would have been so much easier had she been allowed to take her daughter out of the house. The park would do it, for sure. But she wasn’t allowed to take Sierra anywhere. Even though it had been two weeks since she’d started coming over. Sierra still wasn’t calling her Mommy, even though Molly encouraged her frequently.
Molly had her speech prepared. She’d tell Dylan that while she appreciated everything his mother had done for Sierra in the past few months, Violet’s babysitting services would no longer be required. Violet could take a backseat now and be grandma for a while. As long as Molly started out by acknowledging the way Dylan’s family had pitched in, the rest might be well received. It sounded like something Emily would approve of, so it had to be good.
An hour later, Molly had read every book in Sierra’s bedroom, and Dylan still hadn’t come inside. “Let’s see what your daddy is doing.”
Molly wandered over to the window, where she saw Dylan on the ground, appearing to inspect his leg. But the way he sat on the ground, one of his ankles crooked, didn’t look natural. Molly opened the window. “Hey, Dylan? Are you almost done?”
“Call 9-1-1. I broke my ankle.” Dylan said the words easily, but they caused a cataclysm in Molly’s heart.
She picked up Sierra and rushed out the back door, phone in hand. “What happened? What did you do? Did you climb up there and fall down?”
“Calm down. You’re upsetting Sierra,” Dylan said, his face ashen gray. His pant leg was covered in blood. “Don’t look. It’s a compound fracture.”
Dear God. She’d seen pictures of compound fractures in the textbooks Dylan had brought home when he was studying to be an EMT. With shaking fingers Molly dialed 9-1-1 and explained the situation. In her arms, Sierra started to whimper. “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.”
“Owie, Daddy. Owie,” Sierra cried.
“Molly, I’m going into shock. Can you get a blanket from inside?” Even though he was gritting his teeth, Dylan might as well be talking about the weather. Did you see those clouds? I think it might rain.
Molly carried Sierra on her hip, trying to comfort her. “Daddy just needs a blanket because he’s cold. It’s going to be all right.”
She pulled a blanket off Dylan’s bed and rushed back outside. Molly covered him with it and then laid his head on her lap. She held on to Sierra’s hand, not that she would go anywhere right now. Her little girl bent down and gently petted Dylan’s head.
“Thank you,” Dylan said before he passed out.
* * *
MOLLY TRIED TEXTING Emily a hundred times to let her know what had happened, but she hadn’t responded in the past fifteen minutes. Probably because she was up in a plane again.
“Call me back when you get this, Em. I have a serious problem here and I need you.” What should Molly do? What would Emily do?
Emily would fix this. She’d know what to do. Or at least, she would have before she’d turned into some wacked-out version of Molly’s big sister. Flying planes and acting like she’d lost her brain somewhere. Molly was supposed to be the wild one, not Emily. But Molly was here at the hospital with her little girl, waiting to hear news about her husband. Emily was hanging out with Mr. Studley and flying planes. Maybe even joining the mile-high club. It was like opposite-day around here.
Sierra’s little head rested on Molly’s shoulder, as though the ordeal had worn her out, too. The nurse had stated in no uncertain terms that Molly was not to walk through those double doors without an invitation. So they were both stuck in the ER waiting room.
“Where is he? Oh my darling boy, what has he done now? Why does he insist on climbing trees? It’s like he’s still seven.” Violet marched up to the triage desk. “Excuse me, where is Dylan Hill? I’m his mother.”
“Nana!” Sierra squealed and climbed down from Molly’s lap.
“My baby girl! There you are!” Violet bent down to pick up Sierra, who rushed into her arms. She looked up to see Molly, right behind Sierra. “What did you do, push him out of the tree?”
“It’s good to see you, too, Violet. He’s going to be okay. It’s a compound fracture.”
“I might have known you’d be involved. Why did you let him prune that tree? He should have hired someone to do it.”
Naturally, it was always Molly’s fault. Her fault when she got pregnant, her fault she refused to have an abortion and her fault that Dylan wanted to get married. The precious granddaughter Violet now cradled in her arms might not even be here today if not for Molly’s choice. But never mind all that.
“Which one of you is Molly?” the triage nurse interrupted.
“That’s me. I’m—I’m his wife.” Molly swallowed. Why are they asking for me? Are they contacting the next of kin? Please don’t let me lose Dylan. Don’t let Sierra lose her daddy.
“He wants to see you.”
“We’ll both go. I’m his mother. I’m sure he mentioned me.” Violet started to walk past the nurse, who held out an outstretched palm.
“One at a time. And the baby stays in the waiting room.”
Molly followed the nurse past the swinging doors and three curtained stalls until they got to Dylan. “We have him on a drip for the pain, but knowing our Dylan, he’s probably still as sharp as a tack.”
The affection in her tone was palpable. Naturally everyone in the ER would know him. The nurse patted the bed, checked the IV drip and left them alone.
Molly was afraid to get too close, because she might be tempted to touch him again and that hadn’t worked out so well the last time. “Are you okay?” A stupid question, as he most definitely was not okay.
He l
ooked at her, his amber eyes faded. “It’s not painful anymore. But I’m going into surgery.”
“Oh, no.”
“Easy. I’m going to be fine. But I have a few weeks of recovery ahead of me.”
Leave it to Dylan to make it all sound so normal. “What can I do?”
“I’m going to need a lot of help with Sierra.”
“I can do it.” Molly moved closer to his bedside.
“Don’t get upset, but I was thinking maybe she could stay at my mom’s house for a while. Or my mom might move in with me temporarily.”
But this was not going to go down this way or Molly would not just be upset, she’d create a scene. And oh, there would be blood. “No, Dylan. I’ll do whatever it takes. She’s my daughter, not Violet’s.”
Rather than protest, Dylan appeared to be studying her. “Are you sure? She can be a handful.”
Violet or Sierra? “I know. I gave birth to her. Remember?”
“How could I forget?” He nearly cracked a smile. “You said you’d kill me if I touched you again.”
“And I meant it. At the time.”
“Where’s Sierra?” he asked, eyes now at half-mast.
“She’s with your mother right now. Of course, she wants to blame this on me, too.”
“She’s wrong and she’s always been too hard on you. I should have stood up for you more.”
“Right.” It felt good, having him acknowledge that Violet had been so unfair. “It’s not my fault you got hurt.”
His words became slightly slurred. “But I probably shouldn’t have been showing off for you.”
What was that?
Time for Molly’s prepared speech. She would have loved to get Emily’s input on this, but for now, she’d have to wing it. “I appreciate everything your mother did to help you out with Sierra while I was gone, but I’m here now. She can take a break and just be Grandma for a while. Would you tell her that?”
Dylan’s eyes were fully closed now and he didn’t answer. Yep, he’d fallen asleep.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” Molly moved even closer and ran a hand through his thick dirty-blond hair. Covered his big hand with hers. The same hand that held hers for seventeen hours of labor. He was going to be all right, because he had to be. How could the world keep spinning on its axis without Dylan?
She wasn’t even aware she was crying until the nurse walked back into the room, put an arm around Molly and shushed her. “He’s going to be fine. We’ve got one of the best orthopedic surgeons on staff here. Don’t worry, my dear. He’s in good hands.”
“Thanks.” The nurse was kind, but it didn’t take away from Molly’s concern. There were so many things to worry about: what if Dylan never woke up from the surgery? What if his leg was never the same and he walked with a limp?
What if she still loved him?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
EMILY DROPPED OFF her licensing paperwork at the post office. With every requirement to become a licensed pilot checked off her list, and Stone’s A-plus on her final flights, now it was just a matter of the paperwork. She’d have her license as proof that she’d accomplished something significant. Major. Giving up a little bit of control to try something new and exciting. She just hadn’t expected to get her heart bruised in the process.
Stone had stayed away, and she assumed he would take her at her word and leave without saying goodbye. He was good at keeping his word, despite what he wanted everyone else to believe. He’d managed to keep the airport open. Cassie and Jedd would keep their jobs. The Air Museum and Shortstop Snack Shack would remain as part of the town’s landscape.
He was still in town, she’d heard, but he’d left her alone. It was for the best. What had she expected?
Apparently a lot more than what he’d given her.
And dammit, she was pissed off with herself about that. The temporary nature of their relationship, her stupid rules, had all been her idea and he’d only gone along with it. Maybe it wasn’t his fault that while her feelings had changed, his obviously had not. So why did she feel used when she’d been the one to do the using?
Maybe all we needed was one more time to get out of each other’s system.
The problem being, she wasn’t sure she’d ever get him out of hers. It stung to realize she was going to be so easy for him to forget.
Emily pulled into the Builder’s Emporium parking lot. She needed more paint choices. Emily had already changed her mind about the color in her bedroom. It was going from pink to a light yellow because that might cheer her up.
In the paint samples section, she found her private utopia. This was where she’d picked all the colors for her house so far. One of each. But today the shades of yellow were so confusing they gave her a massive headache. Canary. Lemon, saffron, amber, golden. Maybe yellow wasn’t the right choice after all. Blue? Cerulean. Navy. Morning Sky. Ink. Royal. Cobalt.
Stone’s eyes were cobalt blue.
She took a sample of each one, determined to hold them up to her bedroom walls until something felt right. Genuine. By the time she had one of each shade of both blue and yellow, she must have had more than fifty cards in her hands. How on earth were there this many different shades of yellow and blue?
The whole thing made her want to cry right here in the Emporium painting section.
Too many choices. It was way too easy to make a mistake.
“Emily.”
She whipped around at the sound of his voice. He stood behind her, like he’d purposely sneaked up on her. The man was stealthy. Dangerous. Lethal. He looked like he’d just come from the wood section and was, in fact, holding a two-by-four in his hands.
His cobalt blue eyes were narrowed. “Are you all right?”
Of course he would ask that. Probably because it seemed she was crying a little bit now. She brushed past him, paint sample cards cradled in her arms.
“I’m not crying over you. I’m only crying because there are too many colors to choose from.”
Heartbeat lodged in her throat, she ran out of the store and was halfway across the parking lot when she heard his voice again.
“Wait.”
She turned to see he’d followed her out of the store without his two by four.
“What do you want?”
“To talk to you.”
“I’m a little busy here.”
He took a step closer. “It will just take a minute.”
Thank goodness she’d thought to take all these paint swatches with her. They felt like a barrier between them. She gave him a little sharp nod. “Go ahead.”
“First, forgive me for being an idiot.”
“No.”
He frowned a little. “Fair enough.”
“Is that it?” She clicked her key fob to open the truck and almost dropped a paint swatch. Ink Blue. “I need to go.”
He dragged a hand through his hair. “Just hear me out. I got my orders. Germany.”
Emily dropped her swatches to the ground. “When?”
Stone immediately bent down and proceeded to pick them up one by one. “Two weeks.”
“W-what about your father’s house?”
“My sister bought me out. I think she’s going to stay awhile, fix it up and maybe sell it.”
“And you’re helping her.”
He sighed then. “Yeah. While I’m still here.”
“I’m glad you two are speaking to each other. It’s about time.”
“Because of you. You were right. I had something bothering me that I couldn’t let go of. I hated to admit I was wrong, but it’s true. I should have contacted Sarah and our mother. What I did, what he did...it wasn’t fair, and I regret it. It isn’t easy for me to say that.”
“I know.” She accepted the last o
f the paint cards he handed over. “But I think you’re forgetting something.”
He studied her. “I know you said to leave without saying goodbye, but I wanted my goodbye, Emily.”
Seemed like her hands were shaking. This wasn’t fair. How dare he ask for a goodbye with his blue—cobalt blue—eyes? She didn’t want to say goodbye to him. She opened the driver’s-side door to her truck, leaned in and threw the cards toward the passenger seat.
Then turned to Stone. “So long.”
But Stone reached for her elbow and she couldn’t leave without her elbow. She was tugged into Stone’s embrace and had no idea how it happened so fast but somehow she was hugging him back.
She closed her eyes and breathed in that wonderful smell that was all his. Pushed her face into his warm neck and tried to memorize everything about him. He always smelled so amazing. If this was it, the last time she’d hold him, she wanted to remember every smell, every touch and every sound. Across the street, she could smell the stale oil from the French fries at the Snow White Drive-In, and heard the sounds of a shopping cart rolling across the asphalt. Someone honked a horn. The wind whipped through a tree’s branches. Her heart made no sound as it broke.
“This thing between us was more than I thought it would be,” Stone said and he squeezed her tighter still. “And it’s the hardest goodbye.”
Emily chocked back a sob. When he left, she had a feeling he wouldn’t be back again so she wasn’t even going to ask. Her heart fisted inside her chest as she considered all that could go wrong for him overseas and said a prayer that he’d at least be safe. Somewhere on the other side of the world, far away from her and Fortune but at least safe.
Stone released her and stood there and watched, hands shoved inside his jacket, as she slipped inside her truck.
She caught him in her rearview mirror when she exited the parking lot. Still staring.
Emily turned on to Monterey Street and headed home. In her purse, her phone buzzed incessantly but she wouldn’t answer it now. Driving rules. Not to mention it was hard enough to drive when her heart was breaking. Driving and talking on the phone while her heart was breaking? Sorry, too many moving parts.
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