Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance Read online

  "Did you always want to be a smoke jumper?" she asks, her voice soft.

  “Not really,” I admit, looking at the small painting that hangs on the opposite wall, palm trees and water and bright colors. I wonder if she lies here at night, looking at it.

  “Not really?”

  “Nope.” How do I explain that I never imagined myself doing anything – being anything? The Saint family’s name was shit in this town, and we weren’t supposed to amount to anything. We were always outsiders here, and that was only worsened by my father’s shittiness. "I just needed a way out of this place. I like being outdoors, working with my hands. I like the land. And the rush. I always liked being on the edge.”

  I leave the second half of that sentence unspoken – because when you’ve grown up the way I have, you never know if the next breath you take is going to be the last. There’s something about that fact that just sits with you. You get used to it. And that’s how you live.

  I don't say that part, because I think that part is pretty fucked up, and Autumn isn't the kind of person who would understand my particular brand of fucked up.

  “You were running away,” she says. When I roll over, she’s lying on her side, her head propped up on her hand.

  I’m not sure if she’s talking about when I first left West Bend, or every day since then. “I guess.”

  “I ran away, and found this place,” she says.

  “Who runs away to West Bend?" I ask, shaking my head.

  She shrugs. "It was an accident. I didn't go out looking for West Bend."

  "You threw a dart at a map or something?"

  "Almost." She laughs. "I ran out of gas."

  "You ran out of gas, so you decided to stay?"

  "I had kind of a meltdown."

  "A mid-life crisis, you mean."

  "Shut up," she says, punching me in the arm. "I'm not middle-aged."

  "Hey, you're the one who keeps going on and on all the time about how old you are," I point out.

  "I was having a shitty week. Not a mid-life crisis."

  "Must have been some week to land you in West Bend."

  She laughs, but there's no joy in the sound this time. "You could say that."

  Then she tells me about her ex-husband and how she walked in on him and his secretary the same day her father died, just when she was going to tell him about her pregnancy. And all I can think about is what a total asshole that guy must be, how fucking blind and stupid you have to be to miss what you have right in front of you when the woman with you is someone like Autumn.

  "I just walked out," she finishes. "I didn't have a plan. Everything in my whole life has been planned out – the right schools, the right experiences – and I've never deviated from it. That was the first time I've ever not had a plan." She looks at me for a long moment. "Except for now."

  I've never had a plan for jack shit in my life, and Autumn was sure as hell not a part of my non-plan. "Why the hell did you buy an orchard?"

  "I ran out of gas right down the road from here," she says, grinning. "And June, this girl – she owns a bed and breakfast near here – gave me a lift down to the gas station. When I saw the orchard, I made her pull over."

  "So you just up and bought an orchard?"

  "Well, when you say it like that, it sounds crazy."

  "You're slightly more spontaneous than I thought you were."

  "Thanks," she says, her tone sarcastic. Then she's quiet for a minute. "I needed a change. My father left everything to my brother and I – my mother passed away a couple of years before. We didn't agree on how to run the company anyway. I let my brother buy me out. He thought that my coming out here meant I'd really had a nervous breakdown or something, that I'd honestly lost my damn mind."

  "Do you regret it?"

  "Coming here? No. I don't know anything about cider, or about orchards, not really. But my whole life, I never took a leap of faith before that. I'd never had to close my eyes and just… jump."

  Close your eyes… and jump.

  "Besides,” she goes on, “this place just gets under your skin after a while."

  I look at her for a long time before I reach out and brush a piece of auburn hair off her shoulder. "Yes," I agree. "You try to get away, but it never leaves you."

  Autumn laughs. "That just sounds creepy."

  "It can go either way," I say. "Good or bad."

  "I don't know. I like it here. So many people are leaving, getting their properties bought up by that mining company, you know? I thought about leaving, taking Olivia and going back to Kentucky, but this place feels like my home."

  "Yeah, they tried to buy my mother's property too."

  "But you're holding onto it," she says. She doesn't ask anything else about my family, has the sense not to probe into things.

  I exhale heavily. "It's complicated."

  "Things are never simple."

  "My family is about as complicated as it gets." I don't say anything else. I don't want to bring her into my bullshit. I don't want to contaminate her with my family and whatever the hell is going on with this town. She thinks of West Bend as this oasis, this perfect place isolated from the rest of the shit that happens outside of here. She ran from enough bad shit in her life that she doesn't need mine.

  I don't want to poison her. My family is poison and I know it.

  In fact, the best thing for her – and for Olivia – would probably be if I stayed way the hell away from her. The trouble is, I’m not sure staying away from her is something I can do.

  19

  Autumn

  Sunlight streams through the windows, bathing everything in the room in a warm midmorning glow.

  Midmorning.

  I bolt upright in bed, pulling the sheets around my naked body, my heart racing. It’s midmorning and I haven’t heard a peep out of Olivia??

  Scrambling out of bed, I throw on a t-shirt and pull on my pajama pants that were previously crumpled into a pile on the floor. There's an empty spot where Luke was last night, and the initial twinge of disappointment I feel when I see it turns to panic when I check Olivia’s room and see her empty crib.

  I race down the stairs two at a time, mentally running through every possible catastrophic, terrible scenario in my head.

  My thoughts are irrational and crazy, but I can’t stop them. This is like the beginning of every episode of one of those horrible news shows. I'm going to be a cautionary tale, something people tell about the mother who stupidly slept with a man who kidnapped her child.

  Then I hear Olivia's laughter, her high-pitched squeal, and I burst into the kitchen to see them. Olivia sits in her highchair, clapping as she presses a spoonful of yogurt against Luke's nose. He looks at her with wide eyes, his nose dotted with yogurt, and she collapses against her highchair in hysterics again until she's nearly breathless.

  "Did you sleep?" He looks up at me casually like he does this every freaking day. As if he's in the business of entertaining toddlers.

  "What are you doing?" My voice comes out harder than I intend it, but my heart is racing, pounding in my chest so hard I think it's going to explode. I look at them together, Olivia delighted with her new playmate, his nose covered in yogurt. For a second, I want to walk over there and kiss him.

  "You were sleeping so soundly, and you were so tired, I figured it's probably been a long time since you got to sleep in, so when she cried, I brought her downstairs. There's coffee over there if you want some. Bacon and eggs, too."

  "How long have you been awake?" My voice is still clipped with an edge I can’t quite seem to control, and I’m not sure why I’m so annoyed by this. I watch as Olivia applies more yogurt to Luke's nose and collapses into hysterical laughter again.

  "A couple of hours."

  "You've been entertaining her for a couple of hours?" He’s trying to be nice, I tell myself. The rational part of me knows that. But the protective mother in me thinks, you slept upstairs while some guy was alone with your child for a couple of hours