“No.”
She sighed and looked away, her eyes bright with tears. “Then I think this night’s over, Sam. Take me home.”
4
IT DIDN’T SEEM QUITE FAIR that while the rest of Mercy Falls swayed to the music of Ben King’s newest single, Willow ended the evening snuggled up with a hot date who had floppy golden ears and an insatiable urge to eat the gelato turning to mush on her car seat.
“Stop it, Gopher.” She pulled the puppy onto her lap and earned a swipe of love across her chin. At least he had pretty eyes and adored her with abandon. “We’ll be home in just a minute.” And yes, she could have house-sit, but when Jess heard about her agreement to watch Gopher, she practically begged Willow to bring him home.
Apparently, Jess had a soft spot for troublemakers with big sad eyes.
Willow braked at the light, glancing at the crumpled bag from the Griz containing their specialty, Simeonson’s caramel gelato, with chocolate chips. And, for Gopher, puppy treats and food.
Peace offering or therapy, Willow wasn’t sure just how to present the treat to Sierra. Please let Sam have kept his promise to not tell Sierra about her impulsive kiss.
Not that she wanted to keep secrets from Sierra, but . . .
Gopher jumped up on her shoulders, and she had to press the brakes, move the dog back onto the floorboard. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but you were not the plan tonight, Goph.”
However, her father’s text, shortly after Sam and Pete’s epic fight, had given Willow exactly the excuse she needed to cut and run.
Are you coming to pick up Gopher?
Um. Apparently when her father’s new family said they were leaving tomorrow, they meant 4:00 a.m. tomorrow. Not conveniently tomorrow night after her hike into the park. They’d tied the knot quietly, two nights ago on the lookout over Blacktail Mountain, only the kids and Willow in tow.
Distraction accepted and appreciated, because the last thing she needed was to stick around and join in on the musing of why Sam had decided, finally, to lay out his kid brother.
Do the math, she wanted to say to Ty and Gage.
Because Sam dated Sierra. Who lived with Jess. Who had been noticeably absent tonight.
Instead of here, with them. With Pete.
Even Willow wanted to land a kick in Pete’s shins. Had he no clue how Jess felt about him?
Willow pushed the golden retriever’s snout away from the bag as she turned off the highway, toward town and Jess’s place. Lights blazed out the front windows of the kitchen and the bedroom-slash-family-room. It cascaded onto the dilapidated porch, out into the barren yard.
Admittedly, Jess’s house looked like a place where squatters might reside, but then again, since Sierra’s house had sunk into the earth after the flood four months ago, Willow and Sierra had become exactly that—squatters. They’d even purchased their sleeping bags from the local Goodwill.
Thankfully, the place was insulated, had a decent roof and the camaraderie of Jess and Sierra. Willow could think of—had experienced—worse, much worse, accommodations.
Gopher had the determination of many of the SAR guys she knew. He was licking the bag where the moisture from the cold gelator turned it soggy, but she’d reached the house and stopped at the curb. “Sorry, sweetie.” She grabbed the bag in one hand, the puppy in the other, and headed into the house.
A song drifted down from the stairs, a country-western tune. She recognized it as a Ben King original.
“Hey there, pretty girl, let me sing you a song . . . In this mountain boy’s arms is where you belong.”
At least some people ended up with the one they loved.
The thought came fast, sharp, and she shook it away before she entered the kitchen.
Before Sierra could see her face. While Willow felt fairly sure that her guilt wasn’t tattooed on her forehead, if Sierra told her that she and Sam had broken up, Willow just might burst into tears.
Good thing she had purchased an entire half gallon of gelato.
Gopher wiggled out of her arms, hit the floor, and scampered toward the kitchen. Sierra looked up from where she was emptying the trash.
“You’re home early,” Sierra said. Her gaze landed on the gelato. “Oh.”
“Are you okay?” Willow asked, testing her sister’s expression for anything amiss. Sierra nodded, and her smile seemed warm, authentic. The fist in Willow’s chest loosened just a little.
“Gelato?”
“Caramel and chocolate chip.”
“You are my hero.”
While Sierra took the garbage outside, Willow found a bowl, filled it with water for Gopher, added food in another, and set them by the back door.
Gopher scampered away into the next room, and she chased him down, fished a sock from his mouth.