Rescue Me(93)
“Blossom Rose,” her mother said. “Come inside, all of you.”
Then it was over. Tangy pumpkin soup and hot cocoa. The fire blazing in the hearth. Fresh clothing and doctoring from her mother and a number of the other current residents, one who’d been a nurse somewhere. Willow inquired about the commune truck and discovered it was gone on errands, brother Arank at the wheel.
“He’ll be sad he missed you,” Blossom said as she sat down opposite Willow, setting a bowl of steamy orange soup in front of her. “He says you don’t come back enough. I agree.”
Willow was finally warm and dressed in a pair of her mother’s yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt, her head bandaged. They’d all availed themselves of the only shower, and now the crew congregated in the cozy lodge.
The former nurse had taken a look at Vi’s ankle and confirmed her fear of a break. Now Vi sat with her leg propped up on the sofa by the fire, with ice in a towel wrapped around her ankle as she played a game of war with Riley. Her laughter trickled through the room. Funny, ever since Sam had confronted Dawson, Vi seemed less tightly coiled.
She wasn’t the only one smiling. Maggy and Gus sat at the end of the table, eating soup—Willow didn’t want to guess how many bowls Gus had consumed. Maggy was listening to him wax on about football and his hopes of playing for the University of Montana Grizzlies, her eyes shiny with adoration. Judging by the expression on Gus’s face, Willow thought the feeling might be mutual.
Maggy reached out and touched his arm.
Dawson sat in another chair by the fire, watching the flames, with Zena nearby, plucking on a guitar. Apparently, he knew a few chords and reached up and positioned her fingers. He hadn’t asked who outed him, and Willow kept her secret.
Josh was in the kitchen, an ice pack on his face.
This was a healing place. Willow had forgotten that part.
She stirred the pumpkin seeds into her soup. The smell could reach in, make her whole, and when she tasted it, the butternut sweetness filled her hollow places.
Except . . .
She pushed it away.
“What’s wrong?”
Willow pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. “Oh Mom, I’m so worried about Sam. I should have never left our campground. He won’t know where we are, and I promised I’d stay there—”
“Don’t be silly, Willow. You were freezing to death, hurt and hungry. Sam will be grateful you got to safety.”
“That’s the point. He’s going to come back, discover we’re not there, and spend the next who knows how long searching for us. He’s hurt, Mom.”
Blossom’s gaze went to Willow’s forehead. She’d finally cleaned out the glass and grime as best she could. The wound still bled a little, since the cut was deep and in need of stitches. She’d have a scar that could tell tales.
“This is nothing. I’m fine. But I think Sam has a broken rib.”
“Honey, is this Sam Brooks you’re talking about? Your sister’s boyfriend?”
There it was. The real reason Willow couldn’t eat her soup or chase the chill from her bones.
Despite Sam’s words about wanting to be with her, Willow had no illusions. Once he shook himself free of the bewitching hold the trauma had on him, he’d realize the mistake he’d made with Willow.
He’d forget Willow existed—or worse, live in a constant state of guilt and simply push her out of his life.
Which, frankly, might be for the best. Because her heart probably couldn’t take being around Sam, seeing him hold Sierra’s hand, turn his beautiful, devastating gaze on her. Knowing that Sierra was once again the focus of all his heroic attention.
She stared into her hot cocoa.
“Oh, Willow.”
She looked up at her mother, her hazel-blue eyes so much like her own.
“You’re in love with him.”
Her mouth opened.
“Don’t act surprised. It’s not like your heart is difficult to read. You wear it on the outside of your body. I’d be surprised if you weren’t a little in love with him after spending two days with him saving your life.”
“It doesn’t matter. He belongs to Sierra.” But a knife went through her heart with her words.
“Really? Because last time I talked to Sierra, she spent the entire time telling me about Ian and his current search for his niece and how he’d shown up at the Gray Pony with some other girl, and . . . I think your sister is still terribly in love with her former boss. Not Sam Brooks.”
Willow stared at her. “When did you turn into a romantic?”
“I’ve always been a romantic. I’ve just been a jaded romantic.” Blossom gave her daughter a wry look. “Blame it on my parents and their brutal divorce. I saw what that did to my mother and decided never to be hurt that way. But, I hurt you anyway—you and Sierra.”