5. Rosie

Chapter Five

Rosie

"Dammit," I muttered.

I lowered my hand, setting my eyeliner on the counter in my bathroom. I lifted a piece of tissue and slid it carefully under my eye, where I'd just smeared it at the wrong angle.

At least for this task, my shaky nerves didn't matter. I took an unsteady breath. I knew what was wrong. My nerves had been shot to pieces ever since that night in Vegas. Ever since I'd woken up with a wedding band on. Ignoring Wyatt didn't seem to be helping matters. The only time I could focus was when I was at work, blessedly busy dealing with one emergency after another.

Two weeks had passed since Wyatt kissed me at the hospital. I had very purposely made sure I rearranged my schedule so I wasn't on duty the day he'd been scheduled to get his stitches removed. I didn't want him to know that ever since he'd put his suggestion in the air between us, I could hardly stop thinking about it. My feelings were a jumbled mess. He wanted me to give us a chance? What the hell?

When I had my little fling with Wyatt, life had been much simpler. I'd been fresh out of college and about to start my nursing program. I'd felt ready to face the world. The week with him had been beyond amazing, but it felt like a space out of time. He'd left to fight fires in the wilderness, and I'd started nursing school. I'd hardly seen him for years.

Nobody had measured up to him, at least not when it came to the sexy times. I didn't like to let myself think about the emotions. Every time I did, I mentally shied away. Maybe I'd fantasized about all kinds of things with him, but a little perspective went a long way. For the past few years, I didn't have much time to think about emotions. In some ways, I'd been relieved that none of my dating options had worked out.

I was busy taking care of my father and up to my eyeballs in stress. My friends knew a little bit about my stress, but I didn't want to complain. It felt like everything had snowballed so fast I could hardly keep track. My mom had died when I was a little girl, and my dad had stepped up to the plate in a big way. He'd worked his ass off to scramble things together. I'd been the older sister to my little brother and helped as much as I could at home even though my dad never asked me to help.

Now, my dad, who had seemed indestructible to me all of my life, was slipping. His memory seemed to skip like an old record on occasion. He lost track of details sometimes and had developed issues with his balance after an ear infection that he ignored for too long. My little brother, by eight years, had just dropped out of college and returned home to Fireweed Harbor. Between trying to take care of him and constantly worrying about my dad, I felt completely overwhelmed all the time.

I heard the sound of a door opening and closing and hurried out of the bathroom. I could get through the day without eyeliner. I lived in a small house on my father's property and came over often in the morning to check on him. I'd forgotten to put on eyeliner at home so had pulled it out of my purse here to take care of.

Rushing down the hall, I found my dad in the kitchen, staring at the coffee maker.

"Good morning, Dad," I said, my voice chipper.

He glanced over his shoulder, a smile spreading across his face. "Hey, Rosie girl."

My brother, Brent, walked in, running a hand through his messy hair.

My dad turned, stumbling on his feet a little bit. "Well, look who made it home last night." My dad's voice was good natured. At twenty-two, my brother liked to be out and about at night.

I knew my brother was struggling with something he wasn't telling me, but all I could do was wait. After he dropped out of college last year, he'd done some commercial fishing, which wasn't easy. The schedule was all over the place, with stretches of no work interspersed with grueling work. Between that, he was bouncing around doing odd jobs. He resisted working for my dad at his hardware store even though it would really help my dad.

"What's up with the coffee?" my brother asked, gesturing to the empty coffee pot.

"I think it died," my dad said.

"Seriously?" My brother crossed over and tapped it lightly with his hand. He did all the things, unplugging it, and then plugging it back in. After a few tries to get it to turn on, he glanced back at my dad. "It died."

My dad chuckled. "That's what I thought. Should we go get coffee in town together?"

"I'll take you to town, Dad," I said, just as my brother replied, "I actually have to get into work. Kenan Cannon told me to be there today at eight sharp. I'll see you guys around."

Without another word, my brother was gone. I didn't miss the detail that his eyes dodged mine. Aside from the usual life of a twenty-two-year-old—working, hanging out with his friends, and being out later than I preferred—something was going on. But I had enough to worry about. I couldn't fix it until I knew what it was, so the worry and anxiety just churned along inside.

Ever since my dad came home with my little baby brother after I said goodbye to my mom at the hospital, I'd lived with anxiety. I swallowed through the tightness in my chest and throat and went out to start my car. During the years after my mom had died, my dad had made some strategic decisions, including building the small rental house on his property where I lived. He stayed in the main house, where my brother recently moved in with him. Sometimes I felt like they were constantly rubbing each other the wrong way, creating static electricity in the air between them. Blessedly, my dad was less worried than I was about my brother.

A short drive later, my father held the door for me at Spill the Beans Café. This coffee shop was the town's nerve center. Beyond the best coffee to be found, delicious baked goods, sandwiches, and more, the two owners, Hazel and Phyllis, were longtime best friends. They knew everything about any gossip in town. I didn't remember a time when the café wasn't here. It had opened sometime during my childhood. During the cold winter days and long nights, the sign, soft pink with coffee beans spilled underneath, was a beacon for local residents.

As soon as we stepped inside and the door swung shut behind us with a cheery little chime announcing our arrival, my dad smiled. "They made the dark chocolate and almond croissants."

"You sure about that?" I teased.

"I can smell them, and I'm getting one. What about you?"

We walked together to get in the back of the line. "I'm in the mood for something more savory," I replied.

My father didn't even hear my answer as he was already chatting with Derek, Jack Hamilton's brother. If Jack was here, that likely meant McKenna was. A quick glance around and I found McKenna with Tessa and Quinn, some of my closest friends. I waved over at them.

When we got to the counter, my father spoke again, "I'll cover your coffee. I'm sitting with Derek, though. He's taking me home."

I smiled at Derek. "You sure about that?"

Derek's eyes twinkled with his smile. "Sure thing. Your dad and I have bonded. Although he doesn't have cancer, he goes to the same clinic as me for his rehab. We hang out in the waiting room together."

"So I've heard. I'm glad you two can keep each other company." I nudged my dad lightly with my shoulder. Just as I contemplated whether to ask Derek about how his cancer treatment was going, my dad offered, "He's kicking cancer's ass."

"Good to hear," I replied.

Derek waggled his brows. "I've even gained some weight. Ten whole pounds."

Considering that Derek was painfully thin, that was good news. We ordered, and my dad gestured toward my friends as he walked to a table with Derek. I crossed the café, stopping beside the table where my friends were seated. "Mind if I sit with you all?"

"As if you need to ask," McKenna said as she smiled up at me. "Quinn already stole you a chair from another table."

I slipped into the chair Quinn patted, dropping my purse on the ground and hanging my jacket over the back. Once I was seated, I took a swallow of coffee. "So how are we this morning?" I asked the table at large.

"You have to see this." McKenna pulled her phone up, tapping on her screen, and showing me a picture of her cat, Snowy. In the photo, Jack had Snowy tucked into his jacket. "He walks around the house with her like that. It's ridiculous."

"It's adorable," I replied. "So how is married life?"

McKenna let out a contented sigh. "It's really great."

"Marriage turns out to be pretty sweet," Tessa chimed in.

Quinn laughed as she glanced around the table. "And you two were so opposed to marriage once upon a time."

All eyes turned to me. "What?" I took a quick bite of my spinach-and-feta-stuffed pastry. Chewing was an excellent reason not to talk.

Of course, the bite I took was too big, and I almost choked, resulting in Quinn patting me between the shoulder blades. "Are you okay?" she asked.

After I managed to swallow and clear my throat, I nodded. "I'm fine."

I was relieved when Hazel stopped by our table to check on us. "How are we doing, girls?"

She had a small tray in one hand and began picking up a few empty plates at the table.

"Are we really girls?" I teased as I smiled up at Hazel.

"To me, you are. I am…" She paused briefly before adding, "Over seventy. Once you clear fifty, every female under forty is a girl."

Tessa's eyes twinkled. "How do you figure that, though?"

"Well, I'm old enough to be your mother, so I can say that," Hazel replied archly.

Just then, the door to the café opened, and Wyatt and Griffin walked in together. Hazel glanced over. I was relieved nobody happened to be looking at me when Wyatt's gaze arced around the café before landing on me. It felt like a camera wobbling and coming into focus before locking into place. Electricity jolted through me in a fiery-hot sizzle.

Hazel smiled and waved with one hand before looking back at us. "Those two. Last Cannon men standing. And they're firefighters." She waggled her brows. "We should start a betting pool."

"On what?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Who's going to be the last one to fall in love? Because it's got to be somebody," Hazel explained.

"Well, they're twins," Tessa pointed out. "Maybe it'll happen at the same time."

Hazel shrugged just before her sharp, perceptive gaze landed on me. I knew instantly she was aware of something. Heat rolled in a slow wave through me. I took another bite of my pastry, which was a delicious distraction.

Hazel moved along and returned to the counter when another rush of customers came in. I silently crossed my fingers and toes, hoping Wyatt didn't come over to our table.

But he did because, of course. His sister was with me, along with two sisters-in-law. There was no reason for him not to say hello, especially since Griffin was with him. When they finally made their way to our table, I almost choked on my food again, but I managed to finesse my way through it this time. Of course then, I had to go and ask the stupidest question. "How's your shoulder?"

"What happened to your shoulder?" Tessa immediately asked.

"Got a fish hook in it. It was kind of deep." Wyatt's gaze met mine, and my skin prickled with awareness.

"How do you know about that?" Quinn asked.

I took a gulp of coffee. "Because I was at the hospital when he came in." I hoped my tone sounded casual. "How is it anyway?"

"I got my stitches out last week. Just a little bit of soreness left," Wyatt explained.

"He told me I can't punch him in the shoulder yet, though," Griffin teased.

"Well, I would hope not," McKenna said.

I took another swallow of coffee and the last bite of my croissant. Kenan came into the café, of course, because the Cannon family was freaking huge. There were seven of them. He didn't even go to the counter first. He came straight to our table to give Quinn a lingering kiss. He was so whipped. They'd been together over two years now, and the guy still practically drooled over her.

The conversation carried on around me, and I focused on my coffee and picking at the crumbs on my plate.

"Rosie," someone said.

I glanced up to see Kenan looking at me. "Yes?"

"I was just saying your brother's doing great with us," Kenan replied.

"Good to hear."

"I was telling him he might want to look into hotshot training since he likes working outside," Kenan added.

Griffin chimed in, "I'll give him a call. They have a new round of training coming up in a few months."

"Do they do training here?" I asked curiously.

Wyatt and Griffin nodded in unison. Griffin was still a hotshot firefighter, but Wyatt had recently transitioned away from that to take the head brewer position at Fireweed Winery for their family.

"Well, that would be great. He's bounced around between jobs," I said.

"Most people bounce around between jobs when they're his age," Griffin replied. "I'll get his number from Kenan and give him a call."

While I would worry about my brother doing a high-risk job like hotshot firefighting, it would be a relief for him to have a job that maybe he liked. My worry about my little brother was a constant simmer in my thoughts. It always had been. A little while later, I left because I needed to get to work myself. I said my goodbyes and slipped away, relieved Wyatt was occupied in conversation with my dad, Derek, Kenan, and Griffin. They'd started discussing something to do with hunting.

I was checking my phone messages before I drove away when there was a tap on my window. I glanced up to see Wyatt waiting on the other side. His breath frosted the air, and his blue eyes were bright. I was instantly hot all over. Because that was what seemed to happen whenever I looked at Wyatt.

I tapped the button to roll down my window. It would've been rude not to do that, but I also couldn't help myself.

"Hi," I said after clearing my throat.

"Hey. I was wondering if you thought about what I asked you?"