A wave of emotion runs through my body. Gratitude. Longing. Thankful, but most importantly, forgiveness. I’ve been trying to edge him out the entire time I’ve been here. Scared that he’s going to let me down and hurt me again, but I don’t think that he will. I’ve been suppressing my feelings for him since the second I pulled back into town, but I can’t anymore, not after this.
“Are you mad?” He has his voice sounding tender and soft.
Throwing my head back against the seat, I let out a huge breath, mostly of relief, relief that I can finally let go of this resentment and darkness that has been clouding over me. “I’ve never been more grateful for you in my life. Thank you, West. I will never be able to thank you enough for being there for him when I couldn’t be.”
The difference is I could be there. I could’ve been here this whole time, but instead I chose to chase a dream in New York, a dream that never panned out; that’s all New York was. If I had any question in my mind if I was thinking about heading back, this absolutely seals the deal. I’m going to finish this project, and that’ll be my last day working for them. I think it’s time I come home for good.
“There's no reason to thank me, Sunshine. I’m happy to fill your shoes when you can’t be here, as best I can.”
I didn’t think it was possible to smile in a time like this, but somehow he has managed to brighten a dark situation. “You're one of the best people I know, West. I’m sure you filled my shoes just fine.”
He’s quiet on the other end of the line, and I wonder if maybe I said something wrong, but he clears his throat and says, “That means a lot hearing it come from you. There’s not a lot of people's opinion I care about, but yours, yours matters.”
Not knowing what to say to that, I stay quiet. “Please stay on the phone with me till you get here. I’m scared.”
“I know, baby, he’ll be fine. He’s a hell of a lot tougher than people give him credit for.”
His words help calm my racing heart, but the anxiety of losing the only family I have left stays on my mind. “I know I just can’t lose him. He’s my only family. Well, my only family who actually wants me, I should say.”
“Anyone who doesn’t want to be in your life is a fucking idiot, take it from somebody who thought letting you go was the right thing to do. It wasn’t.” There is no hesitation in his words.
“You mean that?” My voice comes out softer than I want it to. A whisper of hope, and maybe the start of something new.
“With every ounce of my being. Where are you at? I’m pulling into the ranch right now.”
“I’m in your office.” Really, I could work from anywhere. But being in his space has been the only hidden way I could feel close to him.
Weston’s truck comes into view, and I let out a sigh of relief. It’s like my body knows that when he’s near, I’m safe and everything’s going to be ok. That I can breathe, break down if I need to, and someone will be there to put me back together. It’s funny how quickly my trust in him came back. Maybe I’ll regret it, but I think I might regret not letting it go more.
His truck comes to a stop beside me, and he flies out of his driver’s door, running over to me.
His hands come up and cradle my face, his thumb swipes under my eyes, wiping away the tears that won’t stop falling. “The doctor said he’s okay. I know it’s scary, but he’s gonna be fine. Come here.”
He drags me to his chest and wraps his big, muscled arms around me, and I swear I’ve never felt safer in my life. A sob rocks through me. I know he’s probably fine, but hearing that he had a heart attack made my heart drop. Because he’s fine this time, but what about next? What if I don’t get to make up for any other time I wasted?
Weston’s hand wraps around the back of my head, smoothing my hair down as he tries to calm me down.
“I know I’m being ridiculous, that call just scared me.”
“You’re not being ridiculous, being scared for someone you love is absolutely justifiable. Let’s get you to the hospital so you can lay eyes on him yourself.”
“Okay.” I pull away from his chest and nod.
Weston takes my head back into his hands. “Everything is going to be okay. I promise. Take a deep breath.” He doesn’t let my face go until he watches me take a deep breath, which does help.
He laces his fingers with mine when we walk to the truck, not letting go until I get into the truck.
He hops back in, backing out far enough until he can turn around and get back on the main drive to get on the road.
Right about now, I wish he would have driven the old truck, the one where I could sit in the middle seat and still be close to him. That’s all I want right now. There are one billion people on this planet, and I think he’s the only one who makes me feel okay when my world is crashing down. I wish I could ask him to hold my hand, but I don’t know how. It feels scary to bridge that gap.
It’s almost like this man can read my mind, because his hand comes over the center console and grabs the hand I was toying with. He gives it a squeeze, and I look over to him and give him a small smile of reassurance.
When we pull up to the hospital, we park in the ER parking lot. It takes everything in me not to full-out sprint inside.
I get out of the truck and wipe my tears from my eyes. But it’s no use. My mascara has streaked halfway down my face, and my hair is a mess from me running my hands through it so many times, and my distress, in short, I’m a hot mess.
The walk to the sliding glass doors is short and the walk to the waiting room and check-in desk is even shorter.
