Best Worst Mistake (17 page)

“I opened up the pack and inside were two . . . and a book of matches. I’d seen Dad strike a match before but never tried for myself. The first one didn’t light, but the second did. I watched the flame until it burned my fingers and then shook it out.
The next one I dropped and it sparked a fire. They’d been keeping score on the table and there were crumpled sheets of paper everywhere. I tried to wake up Dad but he didn’t budge. The flames covered the table, bigger and bigger, and I didn’t know what to do. I ran to the kitchen and got a cup of water, but the splash didn’t do a thing.

“That’s when I went upstairs and got Mom. She was fast
asleep and didn’t wake easily. Said I was having a nightmare and to go back to bed. I kept shaking her and finally she got angry and yelled at me. But by then the smoke was already coming up the stairs. She got to your room,” he told his brothers. “Pulled Archer out of bed and told Sawyer he’d have to walk. Both of you were sleepwalking and started throwing temper tantrums. When we got to the stairs,
there were flames closing in but still room to get out the front door. Mom shepherded us outside a safe distance from the house. Asked me to hold both your hands, then she went back for Dad.

“I begged her not to go. Not to leave us. But she said Dad was in there. She said everything would be okay. She promised. And I believed her. She always kept her word.

“It was an old house. The fire
must have gotten inside the walls. Everything destabilized fast. I didn’t know it then. I was just a kid. You two were crying and I was just staring at that door, willing them to come back. To be safe.

“Finally the door swung open and I knew everything would be okay. I might be in trouble forever but everything would be fine.

“That’s when the roof collapsed. Through the open door came
Mom’s scream. It . . . it didn’t last long, only a few seconds, but I’ve never been able to get the sound out of my head.”

And then he could say no more. Only bury his head in his hands.

“Oh, Wilder,” Quinn said.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Sawyer asked after a moment.

“No one knew the cause of the blaze,” Grandma said. “The official ruling was that my son must have fallen
asleep smoking. Wilder confessed everything to me that night but I told him never to speak of it. I hoped he’d forget in time.”

“I never could.” Wilder choked. “I can still see it like I was there.”

“It was wrong of me not to let you talk it out,” Grandma said. “But that’s not the way I was raised. It’s not what I know. Feelings weren’t things you shared; they are things you keep out of
sight. A private matter.”

“I killed our parents,” Wilder said. “I killed our parents and hated myself. Eventually I had to leave Brightwater. The guilt got too much to bear. I figured, out of sight, out of mind. You’d all forget about me in time. What good could I bring you? I’d torn from your life the two people you loved the best in the world.”

“Stop talking like that. Stop it right
now.” Grandma crossed the room and grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. “You were six years old and had an accident. I didn’t know what to do and made the wrong choice. Once you got bigger, I realized that you wanted to fight the world to get people to react and punish you. And what did I do? I came down harder. Threatened you. Told you I’d ship you off to military school. And then you
did leave and I realized what a damn fool I’d been. I’ve lived with that regret for a long time, Wilder, and I will live with it for as many years are left to me.

“What your father did was stupid, leaving cigarettes and matches out. Drinking too much when he had three little boys. He loved you all but he had a reckless streak a mile wide.”

“I’m sorry.” Wilder looked around the room. “I’m
sorry I never manned up and told you. I could barely speak the words to myself.”

There was the sound of a chair sliding back. Sawyer walked toward him, his boots loud against the floor. His brother pulled off his hat and threw it down on his desk.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said.

“Throw a punch, I can take it,” Wilder said. “Do what you need to do. I owe you a lot more than that.”

Annie rushed forward and Sawyer held up a hand. “I don’t want to hit you.” He rubbed his stomach for a moment. “Shit. I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

“There’s nothing I can do to make it up to you.”

“No. That’s not it. Wilder, I don’t blame you. You were just a kid, the same age as Atticus.”

All eyes turned to the little boy who had taken out a Matchbox car and was pushing it
along the bench lost in his imaginary Formula 1 race.

“It hurts to know that’s what’s been eating at your insides for so long.”

“You don’t . . . hate me?” Wilder couldn’t believe that he didn’t see anger in Sawyer’s face, only sadness.

“Hell no,” Archer said. “And you either, Grandma. What happened to our family was a tragedy, but Wilder was too young to understand what he was doing
and, Grandma, you handled the situation how you thought best. In hindsight it was a mistake, but you acted out of love for Wilder. You hoped he’d forget and move on.”

Grandma nodded, stiffly. “My heart wasn’t as tender as it should have been. But know this, I loved you boys with every ounce of strength in this skinny body.”

“And we love you, Grandma.” Archer slung his arm around her narrow
shoulders and pecked her cheek. Sawyer did the same. Then they both looked at Wilder.

“I heard you and your grandma fighting,” Garret said. All heads swiveled to him; Wilder had forgotten he was even there.

“After our fight at the fair, my mom sent me to apologize to you. I heard you and your grandma arguing in the barn. You said, ‘You know I burned the house down and killed my parents.
I did that. Me.’ ”

Grandma shook her head. “It was the only time we ever spoke of it.”

“I thought you were a killer, man,” Garret said. “When you came back into town covered in burns, I was suspicious. Then the fires started.”

“Sawyer said you were almost always first on the scene,” Wilder said.

“That’s true, but there aren’t many of us on the Brightwater force. It’s not hard to
be the first responder.”

Wilder raked a hand through his hair. “If it wasn’t you setting the fires, and it wasn’t me, then who the fuck was it?”

Sawyer shook his head. “I’ll call ATF tomorrow morning and light one hell of a fire under their ass, pardon the pun. We can’t have some sort of nut job running around town setting fires.”

“Guys, PG language, please,” Annie said, reaching out
to take Sawyer’s hand and nodding at Atticus.

Wilder rubbed his chin. “I still think it’s someone associated with the fire department.”

Garret shook his head. “Besides me, every other guy is a family man. What would be the motive?”

“To be a hero.” Wilder leaned back with a frown. “Or make one of you the hero.”

Quinn stepped forward. “What about Lenny?”

“What about Lenny?” Garret
scoffed, wrinkling his brow. “He might be a joker, but he’s also a friend. Plus no way does he have it in him.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” Wilder glanced over at Quinn with dawning awareness. “You’re a genius.”

She winked. “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“You’re modest.”

“Are you serious? Lenny?” Garret glanced between them as if they’d each sprouted an extra head
and announced an intention to take up tap-dancing. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Think about it. He was your lap dog all through high school,” Wilder said. “Always idolized you. What better way to set up a hero than to make him someone the whole town can get behind?”

“You might be on to something,” Annie replied slowly, turning to Sawyer. “He was the one who contacted the paper and suggested
that I do that story on Garret.”

“Does he happen to drive a Honda Civic by any chance?” Quinn asked, remembering the car that scared her recently in the A Novel Experience parking lot.

“That’s his mom’s car,” Garret replied. “He still lives at home. But I’m telling you, he’s harmless, not our guy.”

Wilder folded his arms. “Go to his house and I’ll bet you’ll find everything you need.
I might have been wrong thinking Garret was the culprit, but Lenny fits the bill. He wanted to make his buddy a hero so he could bask in the limelight.”

“A hypothesis does not a search warrant make,” Sawyer said. “I say we all get on home and in the morning I’ll look into everything.”

“Remember the milk jugs?” Wilder pushed.

Garret jerked. “What about milk jugs?”

Wilder studied
him. “That’s what started the fires. Gasoline was poured into milk jugs as an accelerant and a cotton sock was used as a wick each time to light it.”

“We never found a milk jug,” Garret said.

“You didn’t look, or rather, didn’t know what to look out for. We had a few arsonist situations on and off in Montana over the years and one’s method of choice was the milk jug.”

“Lenny is allergic
to dairy,” Garret muttered, “but I saw him buying two gallons last week. Didn’t think much of it at the time.”

“Think you can keep your trap shut, not alert him that he’s a suspect?” Sawyer said with a layer of menace.

“Sure thing, Sheriff. But are you sure about Lenny?” Garret shook his head. “This guy makes more sense.” He jutted a thumb at Wilder.

“
This guy
isn’t sitting in the
hot seat for one second longer,” Quinn said, reaching out a hand. “He’s coming home with me.”

Wilder blinked at her hand. She still wanted him? “Home?”

Shit. That was a hell of a thing to say.

“Your home,” she clarified.

Grandma nodded. “I knew I liked this one.”

Wilder glanced down at Quinn’s beautiful, trusting gaze and knew what he felt was a good deal more than like.

Chapter Nineteen

Q
UINN
STARED
AT
Wilder’s back as he bent, big hands braced on his kitchen counter. He was a powerfully built man, no doubt about it, with shoulders that could carry more than his fair share of the load. Morning was still a ways off. “The darkest hour is just before dawn,” she whispered.

“What’s that?” he asked, his voice distant.

“Sharing your story with
your brothers tonight was brave. I am proud of you.”

“Feels like a dream.” He shook his head. “I always thought that if they knew, they’d hate me as much as I hated myself.”

Quinn walked to him, rested her hand on the small of his back, and felt the big muscles tense and bunch at her touch.

“Your mother sounded like she loved you very much. She was a brave woman.”

“I wonder if
she can see me ever.” Wilder shook his head. “If she looks down and sees the man I’ve become. Whether I’ve disappointed her.”

“I don’t know where she is, or what she sees, but I do know one thing. You are the kind of man any mother would be proud to claim. You’re a hero—”

“No.”

“Yes,” Quinn retorted firmly. “You protected vulnerable people when you were younger, even if the fight
wasn’t your own. You had a job where you jumped out of freaking airplanes to battle wildfires. You leave out cracked corn for deer in winter and worry if they are getting enough to eat. You were kind to a strange man who needed a helping hand, and as much as you might say you’re a fighter, you’re also a lover.” She gave a naughty smile. “And a darn good one at that.”

He turned around and faced
her full-on. “Can I ask you for one thing, Quinn?”

“Of course.” Her stomach rolled at his use of her name. This sounded serious.

“Hold me?” he asked gruffly.

God, this man knew how to melt her. “Come.” She took him by the hand, led him into his room. There in the quiet dark, they removed their clothes. Not fast or urgent, but as if they’d done this a hundred times before. Wilder set
his leg against the dresser. “Same as leaving out a glass of water,” he said ruefully.

She leaned out and stroked his injured leg as he sat, his thigh muscle still rock hard and solid. “When I look at this injury, I do feel sadness. Sadness that you suffered and even illogical fear because while you are safe beside me, warm and alive, I can’t believe you lived after a freaking parachute malfunction
dropped you into a fire. The idea has given me a couple of nightmares.”

“Me too.” He buried his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. “But when I sleep beside you, hold you close, and smell the wildflower scent in your hair, I’m taken to a world where there is no smoke, no fire. I’m safe.”

“You’ll always be safe here, in my arms, next to me.” She tried to ignore the shiver shooting down
her spine. The one that worried he was attached. That she was too attached. Wilder was beginning to dismantle his walls, open up, and believe the world might hold something good for him after all. What if she was the one to snatch that newfound hope away?

Her test results still hadn’t come in.

She wanted him to keep walking toward the light, not be pulled back into the darkness of a bad
diagnosis. He was a good man. If the worst was true, he’d want to stick by her, he’d try and do the right thing even if it came at the cost of his own future.

She couldn’t ask him to give up his life for sacrifice or suffering. Determination bloomed through her. No, she would never ask for that, but she could hold him until the sun rose and the earth spun to a new day.

He pressed his length
against her and they adjusted their bodies until they found the perfect fit, their ribs rising and falling in synchronicity, fingers laced, foreheads touching. He wasn’t physically inside her and yet he was still imbedded deeply.

She knew that the fact she was willing to let him go was proof that this feeling filling up her insides, however illogical, was real.

“I’m falling in love with
you,” she murmured.

He squeezed her hand. “Good, because I’ve been on my ass about you since the night you walked into my house during the worst storm in half a decade and started arguing.”

“That’s all it took?”

“That and this pretty backside.” He slid one of his hands down to squeeze the top of her rump.

“Stop, I’m serious,” she said with a giggle.

“I can’t say it was love
at first sight, Trouble. More like love at first challenge.”

She leaned down, pressed her lips to his neck, sucked softly as he let out a soundless moan—his ribs swelled, but no sound escaped.

I love you. I love you. I love you.
She branded the words into every nip and suck of his skin. This wasn’t a love that had been battle tested, polished by years and shared experience. It was new,
jagged on the edges, and had the potential to slice through her like a ninja throwing star.

But this wasn’t affection or mere attraction. It was a recognition of his intense fragility beneath the intimidating attitude. It was the fact that his innate cockiness also carried a recognition of his own fallibility. He was a mess of contradictions, but stripped to his core, he was the kind of guy
who could have gone bad, made rotten choices, and in some ways she wouldn’t have blamed him. No kid should be expected to suffer what he did. Instead, he dug in, through sheer stubbornness, and if all of his choices weren’t perfect, that only rendered him more human.

He pulled her head back, bracing her face between his hands.

“What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. Need
to taste you.” He tugged her close, his lips parting hers, his tongue pressing inside with hard, thick thrusts, rough and needy, holding just enough recklessness to make her respond to the challenge.

The moment she whispered her assent, he released a soft grunt as if in relief, as if she really meant it, as if he was finally home and that’s what she wanted to be for him. But not yet.

God.

Why couldn’t anything be simple for five seconds?

“Quinn?” He said her name as a question, sensing the change in her.

She ignored him and went in for another kiss. Soon it would be day. Who knew what news the sun might bring? Best savor the connection here in the darkness.

“No.” He held her back even as his cock pressed into her thigh, long, hard, and insistent.

“It’s nothing.
I’m being stupid.”

“You’re a lot of things, Trouble, but stupid isn’t one. What’s going on?”

She took a deep breath. “I’m scared.”

“Of me?” He pulled back an inch. “Because I’d never hurt you—”

“Not you.” She wiggled closer, closing the gap. “Never you. I’m scared of being the one to hurt you.”

“How?”

“I am going to find out my test results soon,” she said softly. “Maybe
even today. And what if it turns out I carry the gene and that sometime in the distant, but not-too-far-off future, I’m going to get sick? I can’t ask you to sign on for that. We only just met and as much as this here—me and you—is amazing, important, life changing even, I want you to start living. Have the best chance at happiness, every good thing.”

He passed his fingers over her lips,
in a smooth, strong, and unmistakably stop-talking gesture. “You’re tired so I’m going to chalk it up to that.”

“Chalk what up?’

“Acting crazy.”

She yanked away his hand. “Crazy? I’m being practical. I’m trying to help you—”

“Do you trust me?” he asked evenly.

“What?”

“Do. You. Trust. Me?”

“Of course.”

“Then trust me to decide what I can handle.” He stroked her
hair back from her forehead. “Trust me to know what I can or can’t bear.” He shoved his arms under her arms, grabbing her back and rolling her on top of him, grazing his fingers across the dimples bracketing the base of her spine. This time his kiss held a savoring quality, breathing her in. His scruff rasped her cheek as he slid inside her, gently, carefully, inch by inch.

“You like me here?”

“Yes,” she whimpered helplessly. “Yes, so much. But—”

“Anything could happen, Trouble. Any second of any day. You could get that test result tomorrow and find out everything is fine, then be struck by a bolt of lightning or trampled by a moose in Montana.”

She took him deeper, faster. “A moose in Montana?”

“I’m taking you to Montana someday, Trouble. Need you naked, wet, and wanting
under all the Big Sky.”

Her hips rose and rolled. “God, this feels good.”

“And it feels good to feel good, doesn’t it? All I care about right now is me and you. How you’re moving on me, how I’m moving in you. The rest is details.”

“Details?”

He reached back, grabbing the headboard, driving his hips up. “Look what we do together.” A pale light began to seep in. The first hint of
morning after a long sleepless night. “Eyes down. I want you watching me, seeing what we’re doing to each other.”

She looked, and couldn’t stop staring. She’d never watched anything more fascinating than their bodies joining. She wanted to laugh and cry and didn’t know why.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. I don’t know what waits ahead. But I want to find out the next chapter
while standing beside you.”

Everything dissolved into slow, drawn-out friction. They took their time as if the day couldn’t scare them, as if the past and future didn’t matter, drawing out their pleasure until they trembled, quaking as if they were joining on a fault line. Pressure rose within her and she knew that once it gave way, she would never be who she’d been. Nothing made sense and
why did it have to?

What if there were no mistakes, only events that serve as stepping-stones to a never-imagined place?

What if there were no mistakes and her entire life had been leading to this moment?

Every mistake had brought her here, to Wilder, to this dawn in his bed, two hearts beating to the same strong rhythm.

T
HEY
WERE
HAVING
breakfast, looking over the “1001 Books
to Read before You Die” list. “You’re going to have to let me make some additions to this,” Quinn said, sighing as Wilder worked his hand over her sole. He insisted on giving her a foot rub while she drank her coffee and far be it from her to tell him no. It was eleven and she wasn’t sure when she’d ever slept in so late. Soon there would be calls to insurance companies, her property management
company, and her mother. A visit to Dad. A call from the hospital. But not now. Not yet.

Soon she’d need to handle so much that in this quiet late-morning moment, when Wilder asked to handle her, it was enough. It was as close to perfect as life could get.

Outside the world was white, pure, like the most perfect Christmas card with snowcapped peaks, and pines heavily laden.

“Look,
there.” She pointed. Three deer moved noiselessly past the window.

“Move in with me,” he said, watching her instead.

“What?” she squeaked, and the deer jumped, reacting to her yelp, even from within the cottage.

“You don’t have a place to live and I like you in my bed.”

“Um, that’s great and all, but what about me burning dinner? I’m serious; my failed superhero alter ego is Kitchen
Disaster Girl. You will lose weight and I’ll miss all those big strong muscles.”

“I’ll still want to kiss the cook and sneak a dirty peek under her cape.”

“Or what about the fact that I leave wet towels on the bathroom floor? Or the fact I’ll totally nag when you leave the toilet seat up?”

“Towels can be picked up and I never leave the toilet seat up.”

“Even as a bachelor?”

“Grandma Kane drilled that rule into us boys from the get-go. I couldn’t leave a seat up if I tried.”

“You’re serious?”

“There’s nothing to joke about here. I want you, want this.” He tickled her foot. “My alter ego is Ornery Bastard, but he’s met his match.”

“So no more hermit?”

“When I turned my back on the world, I missed some pretty damn fine sights.”

“Okay, Wilder Kane,
then I need to ask you a question and I want the answer to be yes.”

He pulled her little toe. “Sure, as long as it’s not a proposal.”

She jerked. “That’s not what I was going to ask, but hang on. Are you saying you don’t want to make an honest woman out of me? Grandma Kane might have words to say on that subject.”

“It means that I’m going to be asking you, but I want to do the asking.
I’m old-fashioned like that.”

Uncontrollable heat coursed through her abdomen. He was seriously considering spending his life with her? “Are you going to expect me barefoot in the kitchen?”

“No, unless you’re frying us up some pork chops and the rest of you is bare too.”

She giggled. “We’ll see if that can be arranged.”

“Because I’d have to hit it before we got to the meal.”

She pointed at her frames. “Can’t hit a girl with glasses.”

“Really? What if she looks really fucking sexy in glasses?”

“I guess there’s an exception to every rule.” She cleared her throat. “Now let’s be serious.”

“Okay.” His face lost its teasing humor.

She nibbled the corner of her lower lip.

“You look serious.”

“I am. Wilder Kane, do you solemnly swear that you’ll
read with me in bed, every night, through sickness and in health?”

He gave a solemn nod. “I do.”

They grinned at each other as her phone rang. She glanced down and the screen read, “Brightwater Hospital.”