Heartless (Chestnut Springs, #2)(81)

I turn just in time to see Willa’s eyes dropping from my frame down to Luke.

I also see Talia glance over her shoulder and wink at me.





28





Willa





Rhett: You know Medusa?

Willa: Not personally, no.

Rhett: Remember the part about not looking her in the eyes?

Willa: I’ve always kind of liked Medusa. If I were her, I’d wanna turn men into stone too.

Rhett: Pretend Talia is Medusa. But a version we don’t like.





This bitch is like a splinter I can’t get out. The sight of her nails sliding over Cade’s neck burned itself into my mind. She’s droned on and on about herself, and I’ve endured it with a level of politeness I’m extending to her only because she birthed one of my favorite people in the world.

And that must count for something.

“You have to be so sick of living out here.”

I smile flatly, staring at the squealing kids in the huge bouncy castle. “Not really,” I reply while avoiding Summer’s eyes. Because the last time I looked at her, she held her hands up beside her head and made little devil horns with an evil scrunched-up face.

“Aren’t you bored though? I mean, I grew up here. I know what it’s like. Once you’ve had a taste of the city, it’s hard to come back.”

“I mean, Calgary isn’t exactly Paris,” I quip because she’s acting like it’s some glitz-and-glam place.

“But what do you do all day? I’d go crazy. That’s why I had to get out, you know?”

“No, I don’t know,” is my reply, because my patience is wearing thin, and my personality only allows me to keep my mouth shut for so long. The pressure is mounting and giving into my redhead streak is hella appealing right about now.

“Excuse me?” Her big blue eyes go wide, her pink lips turning down.

Of course, she has to be smoking hot. Cade couldn’t have been married to someone ugly to make me feel better about myself. I’d even settle for average looking, but no, she’s a ten. An eleven.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I clarify. “I love living out here. Your son is smart and fun. The land is beautiful. Cade works hard to provide for him. I’m not bored at all.”

A wolfish smile spreads across her lips. “Oh. I see.”

I refuse to react. “You’re going to need to clarify.”

“It’s okay. Us ladies can have our secrets. We’re not so different, you and I.” My brow quirks at her, and what I want to say is that we could not be more different if we tried. “I recommend enjoying him while you’re here. But don’t hold your breath. That man is as cold as they come. I thought getting pregnant might tie him down. And it did.”

My mind reels. “Pardon me?”

She waves a hand and carries on. “Birth control, no birth control, who’s really to say? You know? But he was still boring. He married me like it was ticking a line off a to-do list. I mean, sure, his dick is big, but that can only make up for so much. You’ll see. Robbing the cradle will eat away at his honor eventually.” The smile she turns on me is vicious. “Enjoy the ride while you’ve got it. I’ll still always be the mother of his child.”

I promised myself I’d be cool around this woman. I stood in the mirror and gave myself a pep talk, and I only do that when I’m drunk and convincing myself to sober up. But I’ve been telling myself to give her the benefit of the doubt, to not judge her, to not be jealous of her, and here I am doing all of those things.

“Alright. Well, that’ll do it,” I announce, clapping my hands.

She blinks innocently, but there’s a pleased curve to her mouth. Every word she picked was carefully crafted to get under my skin. And I let her. What can I say? I’m a heart-on-my-sleeve type of gal.

“What will do it?”

I give her the fakest smile I can muster as I turn to walk away. “I’m not in hell yet, lady. Don’t need to spend my time hanging out with the devil.”

A small scoffing sound erupts behind me, but I don’t stop. I stride across the field, ignoring the looks I’m garnering as I try to keep a serene expression on my face. I have a feeling I’m giving major serial killer vibes at this current juncture.

The way my hands have curled into fists might also be a dead giveaway.

When I step into the house, the screen door crashes shut behind me with a rattle and my confidence shakes in perfect time. The bridge of my nose burns, and I shake my head to clear away the tears that are springing up in my eyes.

It’s the middle of the afternoon at a child’s birthday party, and I need a fucking drink so I can process what that she-devil just told me. Or forget it entirely.

I pull a bottle of white wine from the freezer. It slips in my clammy palm when the screen door slams again. I keep my head down, setting the bottle on the counter and pulling the tinfoil wrapper off the top.

“What are you doing?” Cade’s voice is concerned. He’s so big that he blocks out a chunk of the light filtering into the kitchen.

“Having a drink,” I mutter.

I don’t have to look directly at him to know that he’s just crossed his arms over his chest and widened his stance.