“I feel like it is. I have no idea why she showed up.”
I do. She showed up because she heard me running my mouth about this nanny job I took, thinking I could con money out of my new boss. She showed up because I talked about her soon to be ex-husband and son.
I was careless, thinking it was damn near impossible that someone would overhear me and know exactly who I was talking about. It has to be fucking fate. The universe is finally giving me the middle finger, getting back at me for all the shit I did.
Just a few days ago, she heard me say I was in love with Weston, and now she’s here. Which only means one thing.
She’s here to break us up. She’s here to tell him everything she knows about me.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Scarlet
“Wes?” I ask quietly. We’re at a four-way stop and need to turn left to get to his house. There are no other cars around us, and we’re still sitting there. I take my hand off his thigh to turn on the heater. The cold has crept through me, going straight to my heart.
I want to shove it back down into the hole it crawled out of. But it’s beating strong inside my chest, making me feel so much. Too much.
I can’t do this.
Not to Weston. Not to Jackson.
My jaw trembles, and I think about how far I’ve come, how much I’ve changed. How happy I’ve been. Weston has given me everything without even offering. He showed me love, real, unconditional love.
“Wes,” I start again, voice breaking. I bring my hands into my lap and swallow the lump in my throat. I need to say it. Now. Get it out. One way or the other, Wes deserves to know, doesn’t he? I’m not stupid. These things have a way of coming out when you least expect it, and even if Daisy goes away and never returns, I can’t live with this hiding in the closet.
His phone rings and Logan’s name pops up on the display screen on the dash.
“Daisy just left,” Logan rushes out as soon as Wes connects the call. “And she said something about finding Jackson one way or another. We think she’s headed to Mom and Dad’s. Owen’s on the phone with Mom now. Dean, Quinn, and Archer went after her.”
“You let Quinn—never mind.” Wes grips the steering wheel. “I’m headed there now. Thanks, Logan.”
Wes hangs up, and I know I can’t drop a bomb on him now. Though maybe it would be a good time. He’s more distracted with Jackson that what I did might not seem so—God, listen to me? I’m going into self-preservation mode again.
And then it hits me. Hard. Harder than the thought of Daisy telling Wes that I took the nanny job thinking I’d sleep with him and would blackmail him into paying me for my silence or something.
She might try to kidnap Jackson.
“Drive faster,” I say through clenched teeth. Wes doesn’t say anything but steps on the gas, jerking the Jeep forward. We make it a few miles before I speak again. “Should you call this in or something? Get a squad car to go to their house?”
“I can get there faster.”
I’m so tense the rest of the way that my back hurts by the time we peel into the gravel driveway of the Dawsons’ farmhouse. The kitchen light is on, as is one upstairs. Quinn and Archer’s Escalade is parked in front of the garage, and they’re just now getting out. Wes really did drive fast.
Wes kills the ignition and rushes out of the Jeep, running to the garage.
“I already disarmed it,” Quinn says, face illuminated by light from her phone. She has to be freaked out almost as much as Weston. I know she loves her nephew fiercely, but Emma is inside too.
Wes pushes the door open, and the five of us rush in. Mr. Dawson is in the kitchen, wearing plaid pajama pants and a white T-shirt. He was obviously settled in for the night and is already putting on a pot of coffee.
“He’s upstairs sleeping,” Mr. Dawson assures Wes, knowing he’s going to go up there anyway. “Mom’s in the room with him. Emma just finished a bottle and went back to sleep too.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Quinn says, shrugging off her coat. She sets it down and wraps her arms around herself. “I’m still shivering.”
“It’s from adrenaline and nerves.” Archer steps in, wrapping her in a tight embrace. Wes disappears up the stairs, needing to see Jackson for himself.
“Well, now you’ve met Daisy,” Dean says, pulling out a bar stool. He sits, letting out a heavy sigh. “She’s lovely, isn’t she?”
“She seems great.” I force a smile, feeling myself slipping back into the shadow of Old Scarlet. It feels weird, though familiar, and I don’t like it. I wasn’t a happy person before I met Weston. I barely got by, and I don’t just mean with money.
Every day was a struggle to keep my head above water. Some days, just waking up and facing the day was hard to deal with. I had no purpose, no drive…no meaning. Life sucked and that was just the way it was. I didn’t think things could ever get better.
That I’d actually be happy.
And yet here I am, feeling it all slipping out from underneath me like sand being washed out with the tide.
“Do you really think she’ll show up?” Quinn asks, sitting down on the floor to pet the dogs. The biggest one—Rufus, I think?—pushes into her lap, and she nervously twists his long fur around her fingers.
“Who knows?” Archer takes a seat next to Dean and shakes his head.
Mr. Dawson gets out coffee cups and sets them on the island counter. I’m still standing awkwardly in the hallway leading into the kitchen, feeling unworthy of sharing the company of these people.
“I always knew she’d show back up again,” Mr. Dawson says. “Thank God Wes filed for divorce and primary custody of Jackson a few weeks ago.” He looks at me and smiles. “We have you to thank for that.”
It’s like the real Scarlet checked out and took a first-class ticket to hell, being forced to watch things unfold before me with no control.
“Yeah, I did push him a little,” I say with a smile. But it’s my fault she’s here in the first place, and it’ll be my fault when Wes learns the truth. Hurting him is the last thing I ever wanted. Even when I hoped he was a rich asshole, I didn’t necessarily want to hurt him. Teach him a lesson in fidelity maybe, but not crush his heart with my bare hands.
And Jackson—oh my God, Jackson. Tears fill my eyes, and I pull my boots off, knowing Mrs. Dawson has a strict no-shoes rule, and start to cross the kitchen, mumbling that I needed to check on Jackson too. I’ve never been upstairs in this house, and each wooden plank creaks slightly under my feet.
Daisy is in town, adamant about seeing Jackson. Most kidnappings happen when a non-custodial parent takes the child. We have a recipe for disaster and I have no idea how long the danger will be there. Everyone is freaked out enough right now, making me think there’s a good chance Daisy will actually try to do it.
Suddenly, the thought of dropping Jackson off at school on Tuesday terrifies me so much dizziness crashes down on me. My heart hurts and I can’t bear the thought of anything bad happening to that sweet little boy.
“Scarlet?” Mrs. Dawson calls softly. I blink away tears and look up the stairs. “Is that you?