CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“D ear god, this storm is nasty and never-ending,” Brooke said when they all exited the yoga studio, their hair and coats instantly whipping around as they got bombarded with rain and wind.

“I think I’m going to pass on Booch and Bagels today, ladies,” Jordana hollered over the steady, unsettling gusts. “Don’t really feel like standing around in this to wait for a bagel.”

Brooke, Justine, Vica, and Chloe all smirked and nodded.

“I think that’s probably a good call,” Brooke said. “I have a ten o’clock conference call anyway.”

“I have some contracts to look over,” Vica replied.

“And I have a cake to bake.” Justine hit the fob for her SUV and she, Brooke, and Vica all loaded their yoga mats and bags into her trunk. “No special occasion. Aya just guilted me into baking one.”

Snorting at the incredible force that was Aya McEvoy, they all parted ways, climbing into their respective vehicles and waving as they each drove off.

Even though she had time to run home and change for work at the hostel, after their discussion that morning she wasn’t sure how keen she was on seeing Dom right now.

Besides, home just didn’t feel like home … yet.

She was just getting settled into the cabin, which was wonderful and cozy, and now she’d moved, yet again, and into a house with a grump and a little boy.

She hadn’t felt this displaced or out of sorts since her divorce when she realized she just couldn’t stay in North Dakota anymore. Add in the unsettling feelings surrounding Dom, and how he felt about things if the baby didn’t go to term, and even though her nausea had settled, her thoughts were still a relentless storm.

Something in his eyes said he agreed with her, and that they were only moving so fast because of the baby. But then there was a glimmer of hurt and sadness on his face that tickled and triggered her flight response. Like he was all-in, regardless of the baby.

Either way, she couldn’t make sense of any of it.

So she fled.

She fled to yoga and the safety of the sisterhood she was cultivating. Though, she didn’t bring any of this up with them. They were all team “Clom,” as Jordana had coined them. Apparently, Clint and Brooke were “Brint,” Bennett and Justine were “Benstine ,” and Wyatt and Vica were “Vyatt .” Brooke, Vica, and Justine were all quick to say that they hadn’t come up with those nicknames, it was all Jordana. Jordana sat there proudly and agreed that she was the clever combo-name savant.

Chloe wasn’t sure she’d use the term “savant,” but she also wasn’t going to argue.

If she was being honest, she was also team “Clom.” She wanted her and Dom to work out. But she was also a realist, and knew that if it seemed too good to be true, it probably was. And Dom and this whole big, wild, wonderful family—not to mention the baby—all seemed too good to be true. Another shoe was going to drop, and she needed to mentally prepare herself for that to happen.

Instead of going home, she just headed straight to the hostel. She could change there and start a little early. As it was, Hawke was super busy with the rest of the volunteer firefighters cleaning up the island and all the fallen debris from the storms.

When she arrived and parked her car at the hostel, Hawke was outside, up on the roof—with a support rope around his waist, thankfully—on his knees, cleaning the gutters.

He was already soaked from the rain and it seemed like the moment he tossed leaves and gunk out of the gutter, the wind just tossed more right back in.

“Hawke!” she yelled, shielding her eyes from the rain as she glanced up at him. “I’m here early.”

He waved with one gloved hand and smiled through the deluge.

“Is there someone around in case you fall?”

He nodded and pointed toward the back of the building. Hopefully that meant that someone was outside and would hear Hawke’s cries for help. Because she wasn’t sure she would hear them from inside the hostel.

An extra-strong gust nearly knocked her off her feet, so she quickly waved at him again and headed up the steps to the front door.

The place was quiet.

Really quiet.

Assessing the guest list revealed that they were slower than they’d been since she started working there. Only three guests were booked in, when they had a whopping sixty available beds.

And she knew those three guests. They’d been staying there for a few weeks now and were really great. There hadn’t been any new reservations when she was there on Saturday, but that didn’t always mean anything. A lot of people, even in this day and age, preferred to take their chances and just show up with hopes that a room was available.

That was not how she operated, but if it worked for others, who was she to judge?

But the fact that the same three guests were their only guests was worrisome.

Would Hawke have to close if business didn’t pick up?

She quickly changed out of her yoga gear and into some comfortable clothes. Her belly also rumbled with hunger, so she made some quick oatmeal from the continental breakfast bar—grabbing a banana and some yogurt to go with it.

Then she took a seat at the desk and prepared herself for complete and utter mind-numbing boredom.

Hawke came inside about an hour later, absolutely drenched, and with bright red fingers. Even though he’d worn work gloves, they were no match for that cold wind and rain.

She leaped up from her seat and went to help him. “Where’d your helper go?” She held his jacket for him so he could peel out of it.

He gave her a funny look. “What helper?”

“I yelled up at you and asked if you had anybody around in case you fell.”

Shivering, he shook his head, sending water droplets flying everywhere. “Oh. No. I thought you asked if I was almost done. I said I still had the other side to do.”

His jacket had done its very best to keep him dry, but it was ultimately no match for that much rain, and his dark-gray Henley stuck to his ripped body like a second skin. Without hesitation, he reached behind and yanked off the shirt at the back of his collar. His dark jeans were also plastered to his body, showcasing very thick thighs.

Chloe’s pregnancy hormones, and unruly libido gave her an electric shock and she quickly averted her eyes. “I’ll run these to the dryer in the back,” she said, picking up the wet shirt and jacket and scurrying off to the area where they washed the bedding and had extra linens and towels.

Her life right now was already super complicated with Dom and this baby in her belly, she didn’t need to add indecent thoughts about Hawke to her pregnancy-muddled brain. Besides, he was not her type. Her hormones were just doing all the thinking for her. And what woman wasn’t attracted to a nice set of chiseled washboard abs?

She took a couple of deep breaths after loading Hawke’s stuff into the dryer and turning it on. She could do this. She would do this.

She was with Dom—for who knew how long—and she was committed to him. Her hand rested over her lower stomach. She was committed to this baby. However long it decided to grow inside of her.

“Hey, Chloe?” Hawke called from the front lobby.

Another deep breath, and she pasted on a big smile and walked jovially back out. “What’s up?”

He had on a fresh, dry, black T-shirt—though it was still impossibly tight—and held his phone in his meaty palm. “I just got a message from the station. A tree fell on Keturah Katz’s house. We’ve gotta go help her. Are you going to be okay here?”

“Aren’t I always?”

His closemouthed smile was sweet. “Yes. But there’s a massive storm right now. And as much as I know you are absolutely capable, I still worry. If the power goes out … or a tree falls. Are you going to feel safe here?” Concern swam in his amber eyes. Even though Chloe wasn’t really into the big, bulky jock-types, she certainly had a soft spot for Hawke. He was a teddy bear in the body of a killing machine.

Nodding, she opened the coat closet behind him and dug out a spare jacket she hoped would fit him. They had spare everything . Some of it was lost and found items left behind, but a lot of it was just articles guests often complained about forgetting, so they made a point of having spares. That was one of Chloe’s ideas when she first arrived, and a poor guest forgot their raincoat. So she went to the thrift shop down in the harbor, and bought a bunch of secondhand jackets, sweaters, hats, gloves, and even some boots.

She held it out for Hawke and he slid his arms into the sleeves. “How’s that feel?” she asked.

He stretched and moved his arms. “A little snug. But I just need it to get to my truck. I’ve got gear at the station. “Thanks.” He shot her a wink, then took off out the front door.

Blowing out a long, slow breath from puffed cheeks, Chloe grabbed the vacuum from the closet and did a thorough pass over the foyer since Hawke tracked in a bunch of needles, leaves, and dirt.

That only occupied five minutes of her time before she was sitting on the couch staring out the window watching the tall evergreens across the road sway like their trunks were made of bamboo.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, but jumped nearly clean out of her skin when the front door burst open. That’s when she realized she’d closed her eyes and dozed off, because she definitely should have seen the person walk up the steps to the front door.

Blinking a bunch and giving her head a shake, she stood up from the couch. “Hey, Azzy,” she greeted.

Azalea, or Azzy—as she preferred to be called—was a young Australian woman working and traveling the states for a year on a visa. She smiled and removed her hood from her head, exposing her rosy, wet face. “Hey, Chloe.” Before walking too far into the hostel, she peeled out of her ankle-high black rubber boots and ditched her coat. “Is there like a radiator or something I can put this on to dry it?” Her golden-brown eyes darted around the lobby in search of a heater or vent.

“Oh, I’ll just throw it in the dryer.” Chloe held out her hand. “Give it here.”

Azzy’s grin grew bigger. “Thank you.” She passed off her jacket and Chloe went to the laundry room again, pulling Hawke’s dry clothes out and tossing in Azalea’s jacket.

“I’m surprised you worked this long,” Chloe said, returning to the lobby. “Surely it wasn’t safe for Fitz to have you guys out on the boat in this weather.” Azzy worked for Fitz Plamondon, the local salmon fisherman. He supplied all the restaurants on the island—as well as several on the mainland—with their salmon.

“Oh no, we weren’t on the boats. He had us cleaning the warehouse, defrosting the freezers, running inventory on supplies. All shit that we normally don’t have time for. So now that we can’t be on the water, we suddenly have time. But after the power kept flicking off and on, he sent us home.” She rolled her eyes but smiled. “Beats being on the water, I suppose.”

Like a lot of the backpackers, Azzy rode her pedal bike everywhere. It was no shock that she was soaked to the bone and probably freezing.

“Anybody else around?” she asked.

“You’re the first I’ve seen or heard.”

“I’m going to go take a long, hot shower then. It’s bloody freezing out there. Nearly got blown off my bike a few times.” Then with a cheery salute, she took off upstairs in her bare feet.

Chloe glanced at her phone to check the time. It was only eleven.

Crap .

She was supposed to be there until three.

Ugh.

With the clock moving at a snail’s pace—or possibly even backward—she decided to do a deep clean of the kitchen, including the fridge, cupboards, and pantry. Then she moved onto the bathrooms, and the common areas. But that only took her to one o’clock.

She was sitting at the front desk eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich when the front door opened again, bringing with it a wild gust of icy wind, and a fresh batch of wet leaves and needles.

Was it wrong that she was actually a little happy about having to vacuum again?

“Hey, Chloe!” Kit and Dex greeted, seeing Azalea’s boots and deciding to ditch theirs there too. Now that Willy Reilly’s sons were back at college, Willy had to hire more help on the crab boats. And since that Orrin dipshit who snuck into Chloe’s bathroom was gone, Willy hired Kit and his cousin Dex, backpackers on a gap year from Scotland, for help. And from everything Chloe had heard, Willy was really happy with them.

“Azzy here?” Dex asked, glancing upstairs.

“She is. I’m guessing since it’s too windy for the fishing boats to go out, it’s the same for the crab boats?”

Dex nodded as he swept his dark-blond hair off his forehead. “Yeah. Willy just had us doin’ some cleanin’ and inventory and stuff for a wee bit. Then the power went out, so he sent us home.” It was easy to see that Dex had a crush on Azzy. His eyes kept darting upstairs. And the way he looked at the young Australian when they were in the same room was innocent and sweet. “I’m gonna jump in the shower.” He took off, taking the stairs two at a time.

Kit was slower to peel out of his wet clothes. They also rode their pedal bikes everywhere and clearly couldn’t ride faster than the raindrops.

“I’ve got Azzy’s jacket in the dryer if you want me to do the same for you,” Chloe offered, getting up from her seat and walking around the desk to help Kit out of his soaking wet jacket.

“Thanks.” His cheeks were already ruddy, but they went even pinker as he smiled awkwardly and averted his gaze to the floor.

She grabbed Dex’s raincoat off the coat hook and took them both to the laundry room.

It was disappointing that the hostel was so slow. Apparently, even in the off-season it wasn’t this empty. But Hawke had been hit twice with bad things happening in his hostel in the last few months, and news traveled fast thanks to good ol’ social media and keyboard warriors.

If only there was something she could do to help drum up more business. All her reels, videos, social media posts stating that Joey and Orrin were gone, and even showing that she—the person whose privacy had been violated—was back, and it still didn’t seem to make much of a difference at luring people to the island and the hostel.

At two forty-five—fifteen minutes before her shift was supposed to end—Chloe got a call from Hawke. “I really hate to do this to you, Clo,” he said, the static between their phones from the weather making it almost impossible to hear him. “But is there any chance you can stay later? We’re slammed with emergencies. Trees all over the roads, Keturah Katz’s house wasn’t the only one that got hit by a tree. It’s absolute chaos here. I have no idea when I’ll be done.”

A foreboding sense of dread swirled in Chloe’s belly. Obviously, she wanted to help. And even though she wasn’t about to go lift logs off houses herself, she knew that by staying at the hostel and helping Hawke, she was in turn helping those on the island who needed it.

“Can I just call Logan and see if he’ll cover for me?” she asked, even though all she really wanted to do was get back to the McEvoy property where it was safe. Where Dom, Silas, and the rest of them were. She didn’t go home after yoga because she didn’t want to face him. Now, all she wanted to do was see him. To touch him. To have him wrap his arms around her and tell her that she was safe, the baby was safe, and everything was going to work out.

Even if it didn’t end up being true, she needed to hear it.

But she had to stop thinking about just herself. Dom was fine. She was fine. They were safe and dry. Which wasn’t the case for everyone.

Hawke grunted. “Yeah … sure.” Then the line went dead.

Did it go dead or did he just hang up?

“Hello? Hawke?”

Weird.

She quickly dialed Logan, and luckily, he picked up after three rings. “Hey, Chloe.”

“Logan, Hawke’s asked if I could stay at the hostel. He’s in crisis-mode running from one emergency on the island to another. Are you able to cover my shift for me? Maybe Renée can help?”

“Yeah, sure. No problem. I got your back.”

The relief she expected to feel at his willingness to help wasn’t nearly as alleviating as she hoped. She still just wanted to get home.

Home .

It was still such a strange feeling to have a home again. And have a man and a child—a little boy—living in that home with her.

It didn’t feel like home yet, but she really hoped it would soon.

Maybe the reason it didn’t, and she was so reluctant to have any faith or optimism about the future was because having a family, with a partner and a child—or children—wasn’t something she thought she’d ever be okay with again. It wasn’t something she thought she’d ever have again. And yet, she did.

And now, she wanted nothing more than to be with them.

Swallowing down the need to just bail on Hawke and selfishly return home to Dom and Silas, she thanked Logan. “I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. Drive safe when you do finally get back to the property. Don’t be a hero.” Then they said goodbye and she leaned back into her comfortable office chair, called Hawke, and let him know she could cover.

He was relieved, but was obviously in the middle of an emergency because after he said “thanks,” he hung up.

Great. Here she thought she had just one more hour left, and now she was going to be in this boring, exceptionally clean place indefinitely.

Even though Hawke had no issues with Chloe watching movies or reading while sitting at the desk, she didn’t particularly like it. It felt wrong, and like time theft. Sure, she did it, but only after she’d done absolutely everything humanly possible around the place first.

It was four o’clock when Dex, Azzy, and Kit came bounding down the stairs, all of them in dry clothes and with smiles on their faces.

“Do you know when Hawke is comin’ back?” Kit asked.

“He’s dealing with a bunch of emergencies on the island. So you’re stuck with me for a while,” Chloe said, taking a sip of the lemon-ginger tea that she brewed for herself. It was only lukewarm now and she’d left the tea bag in too long. It was way too strong.

Blech.

Their faces all fell.

“Why? What’s up?”

Dex shrugged. “We were hopin’ he’d either drive us to the shop since we’re hungry and nothin’ in the fridge is really callin’ our names. Or the restaurant, and we’d buy him a pint. He’s done that before.”

That was fair. Nothing in the fridge was really calling Chloe’s name either. She made herself that PB&J earlier simply because she was hungry. Not because she actually wanted it.

Dex’s blond brows rose. “Unless you’d like to go to the pub with us for a pint?”

Smiling at his kind offer, she was tempted to rub her belly, but just crossed her arms over her chest instead. “I’m okay, but thank you.”

Unlike that Orrin prick, these three were good, honest, hardworking kids. She really liked them, and felt that she could trust them.

“And I can’t ride my bike in that wind and rain anymore,” Azzy added with a frown. “I already feel like I’m coming down with something.” She sniffed for good measure.

“I mean we can eat fridge food,” Kit added quickly. “But we’re—”

Chloe tossed Dex her car keys. “Take my car.”

Three sets of eyes went the size of dinner plates.

“No, no. We can’t,” Dex said, setting the keys down on the desk.

“Do you have your international driving permit?” Chloe asked.

He nodded.

“Do you plan to drink until you can’t walk straight?”

He shook his head. “I’m not even old enough to drink in the states. I’m only nineteen.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “And I’m sure that’s stopped you.”

He made a guilty face. “Well, no. But I can’t buy beer at the pub. And I’m not planning to go to the liquor store.”

“You just want to go out for dinner, grab some groceries, and socialize?”

Dex nodded again.

“If we’re gonna drink, we’ll come back here,” Kit said. “It’s cheaper and we won’t get any restaurants in trouble for serving underage people.” He shrugged. “We’re not lookin’ to cause any trouble. Just have a bite.”

She bowed her head at the keys. “Then go. Be young. Have fun. This is such a short, and wonderful, time in your lives.”

Azzy’s bourbon and chocolate eyes turned sad. “But what about you? You’re going to be here all alone?”

“I was here all alone before you guys got back from work,” Chloe said with a chuckle. “I actually don’t mind my own company.” She picked up her phone. “Besides, the stablehand just ripped the countess’s bodice—with her consent of course—so I need to see what happens.”

Kit barked out a laugh. “I’ll tell you what happens—”

Azzy swatted his chest. “Don’t spoil it for her, you haggis head.”

Dex snorted, and with a genuine smile, picked up the keys. “I promise to have your car back to you in one piece. We really appreciate this, Chloe.”

“Just be safe. And,” she bit her lip, “bring me back a bag of salt and vinegar kettle potato chips if you can.”

“They’re called ‘crisps,’” Kit said jokingly, tugging on his boots, “and we’ll bring you back two bags.”

They pulled on their now-dry jackets and their damp boots, then braved the weather, and headed off to go find something more appetizing than oatmeal or peanut butter and jelly.

As close as they were to Christmas now, it was dark by four thirty. Chloe hated it.

She much preferred the long, warm days of summer. So in order to get herself as close to those days as she could, she sat next to the radiator, put ocean wave sounds on her phone, and read her historical spicy romance. Benedict, the burly stablehand—and indentured servant—to The Count of Ridgefordshire, had just plunged his throbbing, molten-hot iron rod of passion into Countess Marie-Sophia’s slick, trembling love canal, when Chloe’s phone vibrated in her palm and Dom’s name appeared on the screen.

As if she was the countess being caught with the stablehand, she tossed her phone across the couch in surprise, only to have to scramble on all fours to grab it.

“H-hello?” she answered, her voice hoarse and her panties sopping.

“Hey,” Dom’s smooth tone did nothing to cool her simmering loins. “Logan said Hawke asked you to stay, so he’s covering for you. Everything okay?”

Clearing her throat, she draped the blanket she’d had on her lap, back over her legs. “Yep. Yep. Everything is fine. Why?”

“Because you sound funny.”

“I just haven’t spoken to anybody in a bit so my voice is hoarse. Are you home?”

“No, it’s the in-person proposal. We’re at the community center, just about to go in and speak to the Council.”

“Oh, that’s right.” She smacked the heel of her palm into her head. “How do you feel?”

He made a noise in his throat. “Honestly, scared shitless. I just wanted to call and hear your voice for some courage.”

Well, if that didn’t practically melt her drenched panties right off her body and put Benedict the stablehand to shame. She swooned, then instantly felt like crap for not wanting to face him after their talk earlier.

“Chloe?”

She swallowed as emotion welled up inside her chest and clogged her throat. Goddamned pregnancy hormones. “Yeah?” she croaked.

“Even if we lose the baby … I still want there to be a ‘we.’ I don’t want you to move out. I don’t want you to leave. I …” he exhaled, “I love you.”

Tears burned the back of her eyes and she smiled. “I love—”

The front door opened and there on the threshold, with the darkness of night and the howling wind behind him, was Joey. The lights in the hostel flickered, causing disturbing shadows to crease face beneath the dripping hood of his jacket.

Chloe’s heart leaped up into her throat and she scrambled to stand up.

“Chloe?” Dom said from the phone she held in her hand down by her side. “Chloe?”

“J-Joey, what are you doing here?” she stammered, backing up toward the desk where she kept anything that could potentially be used as a weapon. Didn’t she tell Dom she was going to get bear spray? She never did.

Crap.

“Chloe!” Dom hollered.

Joey stepped into the lobby, his long, dark-green, waterproof trench coat dripping all over the floor. He closed the door, locked it, and removed his hood.

“Y-you can’t be here, Joey. You n-need to leave.” Every syllable was like sandpaper across her throat, her mouth was so dry. She gripped the phone tight in her hand to keep it from shaking.

“Chloe!” Dom’s voice was smothered in panic now.

“I lost my job, and my grandfather kicked me out because of you,” Joey said, his voice slow, even, and terrifying. “I lost everything.”

Chloe tried to swallow.

“Chloe!” If she didn’t hang up with Dom, at least she’d have a witness to whatever was going to happen here.

“I-I didn’t mean to get you fired.” Ice filled her limbs and belly causing the hair on her arms and the back of her neck to lift. She clenched her molars together to fight off the sudden shiver that hold of her.

Joey’s smile barely tipped up the corners of his mouth, and it sure as hell didn’t venture any further north on his face. “But I did get fired. I made one mistake. One harmless mistake and Hawke tossed my ass out. And now you have my job. How convenient.” He slowly crept toward her. The lights flickered again at the same time a harsh gust of wind hammered the window outside, rattling her bones and making her heart leap into her throat.

Her eyes darted for the door and she quickly calculated the likelihood she’d be able to make it to freedom without him catching her. But then, she had no car. The kids had her car. She was stranded. There was a storm outside, a bad one, and it was dark. A sudden heaviness, a numbness almost, filled her chest. She was trapped here with Joey, and he was … unpredictable.

A glance up into his eyes made her knees buckle so hard she had to reach out and grab the desk to keep herself standing upright. His pupils were blown, he was sweating—that wasn’t just the rain on his face—and it was almost like his facial muscles couldn’t hold still. Was he on something?

“P-please, Joey. I didn’t want your job. M-maybe w-we can talk to Hawke and you can have it back. I don’t actually want it. I only took it to help him. He was supposed to find a replacement for me by now.” Behind the desk now, she opened the one drawer, hoping something like a stapler or a machete jumped out at her. But there was nothing besides pens, notepads, and a bottle of hand sanitizer. Acid crawled up her throat, and she swallowed thickly, retreating back another step, continuing to survey the area for anything she could use as a weapon.

Her gut rolled with all the crazy, terrible things Joey could do to her, and nobody was there to stop him. And with the storm and empty hostel, nobody—not even the neighbors half a mile away—could hear her. Not only that, but Dom was presumably on the other line listening.

A tear slid down her cheek. “Please. I … I’m pregnant.”

Something she couldn’t put a label on, and wasn’t sure she wanted to, flashed in Joey’s muddy brown eyes. The lights flickered again casting even more menacing shadows across Joey’s face. His eyes were dark vacuous holes, enhanced by thick, charcoal-colored smudges above his sharp cheekbones. “And that’s supposed to mean something to me?”

She gulped. Her racing heartbeat formed an ache in her chest and she clutched at it, struggling to breathe.

Maybe her being pregnant didn’t mean anything to Joey. Her free hand, the other hand still clutching the phone, fell to her lower belly. But it meant the world to her.

It meant everything.