Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(40)

“Somebody needs to explain right from wrong in terms he can understand,” Willa says over her shoulder to the red-cheeked mom. “Or did you miss the part where he pushed Luke into the pool and held his head under water?”

“It was a joke! You’re out of line, and you will not speak another word to him.”

Luke’s tear-stained face tells me he wasn’t in on the joke.

Willa rises slowly, almost predatory in her movements, as she turns and arches a brow at the woman. “Oh, no?”

“Not another word.”

“Fine.” Willa smiles but it’s a scary smile. And then, with one well-placed hip check, the birthday boy goes flying into the water.

“Sebastian!” His mother’s spritzer sloshes on her hand as she rushes forward.

Luke is suitably shocked. The mom’s mouth is moving, but no sound is coming out, just like when you pull a trout from the lake.

Willa crouches at the pool’s edge, smirking at the boy, who is already standing in the shallow water, angrily wiping his eyes. “Life lesson, shithead. Careful who you pick a fight with. Someone insane might love them.”

“You need to leave! Now!” The mom points toward the gate, and her arm shakes with fury.

I’m almost to them, but the sight of Willa knocking a kid into the pool stopped me in my tracks.

She really is insane.

Possibly in the best way.

“Gladly.” She stands, brushing her hands. “Contact a professional if he starts killing bunnies or something.”

“Willa,” I bark, back in motion now.

“Oh, good,” the mom says. “A real parent is here.”

I should know her name for the number of times she’s tried to chat me up at the grocery store or school pick up, but I don’t, so I take a guess at what sounds close and pray I’m right. “Hi, Bunny.”

She blinks at me. “It’s Betty.”

Should have prayed harder, I guess. “Oh, sorry. My mistake. Slip of the tongue. Is there a problem?”

“Yes. Your nanny is the problem.”

I don’t appreciate the condescending way she says nanny, so I offer back, “Willa is a friend, actually.”

Willa blinks. Betty blinks. Luke walks up and wraps his arms around Willa’s waist, while the shithead kid pulls himself out of the pool, looking suitably chastised.

“She pushed my son into the pool.”

“I tripped.” Willa smirks, wrapping a protective arm around Luke’s small body.

Betty’s blue eyes narrow, and her voice is shrill when she stomps her foot and sort of squeals, “Leave!”

“Let’s all be polite here.” I give Betty a pointed look before Willa goes even further.

“Of course. Thank you so much for having me, Bunny.” Willa winks before turning to Luke. “I’ll see you back at home, buddy.”

Home.

She says it so easily. Like it’s true. That our home is her home. She also said she loves Luke, and I don’t know what to make of that.

I should be more pissed at someone about something right now, but I’m altogether too busy trying to wrap my head around the firecracker in front of me.

“No! I want to go with you.” I watch Luke’s knuckles turn white where he grips at her clothes, practically clinging to her, tears still shimmering on his pudgy little cheeks.

I turn, squeezing one hand on Willa’s slender shoulder while running the other over Luke’s hair. I bend down and press a kiss to the crown of his head.

When I straighten, Willa’s confident air has melted away. She has a pinched forehead, and her eyes are a little glassy. Her voice is hushed and cracks when she says, “That kid held him under water.” Her blinks turn rapid. “I had to pull him out. And they all just laughed like it was a funny prank.”

The papa bear in me roars at the story she’s recounting. My protective side. The one I’ve been honing for decades. I slide my hand up to the side of her neck, rubbing a thumb over the pulse point there, as I hold her bright green gaze with my own. “Go. I’ll meet you back at home. I got this.”

Her head tilts ever so slightly into my touch. And then she nods.

I watch for a few beats as she departs with Luke leaned into her as if she’s the most comforting thing in the world. I absently wonder how he’ll handle her leaving when school starts back.

Poorly, probably.

I wonder how I’ll handle her leaving next month.

Just as poorly I bet.

“That Willa character needs a leash,” the mom sniffs from behind me.

My chest puffs up when I turn my attention on the bottle blonde across from me. “Betty, I like to think I’m a gentleman, but I’m only going to tell you once. Keep her name out of your mouth if you’re going to use that tone. Let’s talk about your kid instead.”

One manicured hand falls across her chest, and she rears back, like she’s totally scandalized.

Joke’s on Betty.

I’m just getting started here.

Willa might drive me insane. She might deserve a little pushback. But if Betty thinks she’s going to be the one to push back at her, she’s got another thing coming.

Willa might be a bit of psycho—after all, she did just push a child into the pool—but the more time I spend with her, the more I feel like she’s my psycho.