Page 6 of Won't Back Down

That guilt made it hard to face her. So did the fact that, every time I saw her, I wanted to grab on and never let go. I’d had her life literally in my hands, and I felt responsible for her. Even now. As if I could somehow stand between her and anything or anyone that sought to hurt her. All of which was fucked up, considering the peripheral place I held in her life. But I was here in lieu of her brother as a favor to Jace. I was the one of us who had the flexibility just now, and it wasn’t as if I’d say no to my oldest friend. Given that she’d just lost the last of the family she acknowledged, I’d have come anyway. Probably. But coming back to Hatterwick, I’d finally have to confront all those complicated feelings about Willa—the ones her brother knew nothing about—and find a way to live with them.

The ferry captain announced our impending arrival, so I returned to my truck to wait for my turn to disembark. Twenty minutes later, I rolled off the ferry and onto the island. It felt different coming back this time, knowing there was no ticking time clock dictating my return to service for Uncle Sam. Like maybe I could actually relax and settle and be here. Maybe coming back to Hatterwick wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

The drive to Caroline and Hoyt’s place took less than ten minutes. At thirteen miles long and only three miles across at its widest point, it didn’t take long to get anywhere on the island. The multiple vehicles piled in the driveway told me I hadn’t missed the party entirely. Wedging my truck in at the end of the line, I climbed out, immediately catching the sounds of revelry from around back. I circled the renovated shingle-style house, now painted a bright, happy turquoise.

The birthday girl spotted me first.

“Uncle Sawyer! Uncle Sawyer!” Aubrey bolted toward me, running as fast as her little legs could carry her, her wild, dark curls trailing like a banner behind her. Before I could warn her not to, she’d hurled herself at me.

Shifting at the last second, I caught her with my good arm, managing to hold in the wince as I scooped her up and onto my hip. “You’re getting so big!”

“I’m seven today!”

“I know. Why do you think I’m here?”

Willa was on the far side of the yard. I zeroed in on her like a heat-seeking missile. But there were at least a half-dozen people between me and her, and I had no right to ignore them all to rush to her, even if that was a thing we did.

Which it wasn’t.

I spotted Aubrey’s mother, Caroline, on the verge of waterworks, and headed to her first. “Nope. No way. I know you’re doing the preggo thing again, but no crying.” I set Aubrey down and pulled the woman, who was the closest thing I had to a sister, in for a tight hug. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks for that.” She squeezed me tight, tight, before pulling back to study my face. “It’s good to see you. We didn’t know you had leave, so we weren’t expecting you. But there’s plenty of food for everybody.”

I was gonna have to come clean about that. But for the moment, I’d keep things easy. “It wasn’t exactly planned. But it’s good to be home.”

Bree Cartwright stepped up. “Got a pint with your name on it down at the Brewhouse, if you’ve got time to stop by while you’re here.”

It never got less weird seeing her without Ford. But they’d had some falling out when we’d enlisted and hadn’t ever patched things up. I was just grateful that her ire hadn’t spilled over onto the rest of the Wayward Sons, given she ran the best bar on the island.

“I’ll make time. Thanks.” I gave her a hug, too, before moving on to shake her grandfather Ed’s hand.

Then I came to Willa. Like everyone else, she was dressed for a summer beach party, her sun-streaked hair pulled back into a loose braid that trailed over one shoulder. I noted the signs of strain around her changeable hazel eyes, though her mouth curved into a soft smile I wanted to think was just for me.

“Hey, Wren. I’m sorry about your grandparents.” It was a paltry thing to offer, but I had nothing else.

“Thanks.”

We stared at each other for a long moment before I gave in to the urge to hug her. The embrace was awkward and didn’t last long. Because we’d stopped being hugging friends a long time ago.

“I kept my promise.”

Willa angled her head. “Which promise was that?”

I offered a rueful half-smile. “Not to die.” She’d issued that edict before I’d boarded the ferry to leave for basic training, right after the last real hug we’d shared.

Her face remained a neutral mask, but I thought I saw relief in her eyes. “I’m grateful for that. What are you doing here?”

Her tone was mild, but I heard the underlying rebuke and knew I’d have to explain myself.

Rocking back on my heels, I shoved my hands into my pockets to keep myself from reaching for her again. “Well, the whole not dying was sort of a near thing.”

Amid a chorus of gasps, Willa flinched and stepped toward me before she seemed to catch herself.

“I just finished a two-month stint at Walter Reed, healing up from some injuries. I’ve been officially honorably discharged for medical reasons. I won’t be going back.”

She seemed to struggle to hang on to her careful neutrality. “So you’re done with the Navy?”

I winced. “Well, the Navy’s done with me, anyway.” I’d get used to it. Eventually.

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