Hypothetical Heart (Farewell Fairwood #2)

Chapter 11

11

T he soft knock pulls me from sleep, and I peel my eyes open, realizing I’m not in my room. I’m in Winnie’s bed, and she’s still asleep, her body lying over one of my arms. Her hair is slightly tousled, her face peaceful, and there’s something about the way she’s curled up close to me that makes my heart tighten.

The door slowly creaks open, and for a moment, I’m worried it’s her dad who’s going to walk in and find me in his daughter’s bed. But I let out a sigh of relief when I see Genevieve’s head peek in.

When she sees I’m awake, she opens the door further, revealing Eloise. They must have let themselves in.

“How is she?” Genevieve asks as she and Eloise approach.

I glance at Winnie, still sound asleep, and brush a stray hair from her forehead, my touch lingering a little longer than necessary. “She was tossing and turning all night. I felt bad leaving. I must have fallen asleep.”

“Yeah, that’s what her dad said,” Eloise tells me.

I sit up straight. “Her dad’s here?”

They both nod. “He came back late last night and came to check on her and said he found you here.”

I rake my hands through my hair. “Holy shit,” I mutter. “Did it seem like he wanted to kill me?” They both take a seat on the ottoman at the foot of Winnie’s bed.

Genevieve shakes her head. “He knows it’s innocent. I think he’s just happy she had someone with her while he was on call.” I nod, looking down at the duvet.

“Weston’s here too, by the way. They’re both in the kitchen,” Eloise says, making my head snap back up.

“God damn it.” I’m going to have to leave this house eventually, and when I do, I’ll walk past Winnie’s dad and older brother, who both know I spent the night.

Winnie stirs next to me and rubs her eyes open. When she sits up slightly, she asks, “What are you guys doing here?” Her scratchy morning voice is the kind that makes you want to stay in bed just to keep hearing it.

Eloise holds up a paper bag from the diner. “We brought you breakfast.”

“The boys are coming too, but we thought we’d get here early so you’d have time to get up,” Genevieve adds.

There are tears forming in all of their eyes. The love between the three of them is palpable, and it reminds me of when we were little kids. If one girl started crying–over literally anything–it was likely that the other two would too.

They’ve been a complete unit for as long as I’ve known them, and I couldn’t be happier to be a part of it.

“Thanks, guys,” Winnie sighs, wiping tears out of her eyes.

“We love you, Winnie,” Genevieve says, climbing on the bed and outstretching to give her a hug.

I just know this means everything to her .

Within a few hours, Luke and Jameson have come over, and all of us are sprawled out in Winnie’s bed.

We tried a few times to put on different movies, but I have no idea why because we never end up watching more than the first ten minutes, anyway.

It’s been nice for all of us to take our minds off of Susan’s death and focus more on her as a person–the person we remember so vividly. She may have been Winnie’s mom, but she was important to all of us growing up.

We share our favorite memories of her, laughing about the times she would swim in the pool with us and take us to get ice cream, crying about all the times she would dress our wounds when we would get hurt, despite her husband being a doctor.

I notice how Winnie’s hand subtly shifts closer to mine. I don’t know if it’s intentional, but when our fingers brush, an electric spark zips through me. I glance at her, and she meets my gaze, her lips quirking into a small, almost shy smile. I can’t help but smile back, squeezing her hand just enough to let her know I’m here.

“I think the main thing I remember about Susan was just how fun she was,” Eloise says. “She was the one who’d jump up and offer to take us to the park, and she’d always be the first of the parents to join us in whatever game we were playing.”

Winnie’s mom was the type who wanted us to feel special, and all of us felt so cool when Susan would’ve rather hung out with us than all the adults.

“She sounds amazing,” Jameson adds. He hasn’t said much because he’s the only one who never met Susan. He’s more so been the one rubbing backs and handing out tissues.

“She was,” the rest of us say at the same time .

We all stay there together for the majority of the day, and at one point, all of our parents come over and call us downstairs.

It’s honestly weird seeing them all together. When we were younger, there weren’t very many days where we weren’t surrounded by all the parents, but now, it’s rare to find a day when all of them are even in the same country.

All the moms are crying, holding the flowers they are planning to take to her grave, which makes all of us kids start crying.

Winnie’s dad is surrounded by all the other dads around the grill on the back deck.

“A barbecue? Seriously?” Luke asks and Eloise punches him in the arm.

“Winnie, hi,” my mom sighs, coming up and hugging her. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m okay,” Winnie replies. “I’m hoping it will get easier as the years pass.”

“Me too, dear, me too.” It might not be the same magnitude, but the type of pain Winnie and my mom feel is the same, and I’m grateful they have each other in moments like these.

Winnie heads back toward our group of friends, leaving me alone with my mom. She slings her arm over my shoulder. “How are you doing?”

I shrug. “I’m okay.”

“And how was last night?” She waggles her eyebrows, suggesting something happened between Winnie and me.

I smack her arm, not hard, but in a way that says, no way . “Nothing happened, Mom. I was comforting her,” I say forcefully.

She’s still smiling as she raises her hands. “Okay, okay.”

Someone else calls her away, saving me from the questions and comments of my overbearing mother, and when I go to find Winnie, I catch the tail-end of an interesting conversation.

“Seriously, El, you can’t let this go on forever,” Genevieve whispers.

“Gen, come on,” she sighs, and the uncertainty of her voice makes me stop in my tracks.

“What are we talking about?” I join the conversation.

“Nothing,” Eloise answers too quickly.

“Eloise has a crush on Briar and needs to tell her,” Genevieve says.

“Wow.” Not what I was expecting. “Briar Hart?”

Eloise looks at me, dumbfounded. “What other Briar is there?”

Good point. “Well, are you going to tell her?”

“No,” Eloise says sternly. “Seriously, we need to drop this. She’s straight.”

“Do you know that?” Genevieve counters quickly, still trying to keep her voice down. “Or are you only assuming that?”

“I’ve been flirting with her. She never flirts back.”

Ever since Genevieve started tutoring Briar, she’s slowly been hanging around us more and more. At first, I thought it was just because Genevieve was starting to see her as a good friend, but now I think Eloise might have something to do with it.

A laugh burst out of me. “Yeah, you’re delusional.”

Eloise gives me a sharp look. “What do you mean?”

“E, she’s been hanging around you more than anyone else, and the way she looks at you does not seem platonic.” I shrug. “Just saying.”

Eloise looks conflicted, and I’m not one to stir the pot, so I step out of the conversation and head back toward Winnie .

“What was that about?” She glances from me over to Genevieve and Eloise.

I hold my hands up. “I’m not even going to get involved.”

She nods, understanding, but then her demeanor completely changes, and she leans further into me.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, immediately put on edge.

“I think everyone’s going to visit her grave.” She looks around the room, like it’s some type of crime scene. I look too, wanting to see what she’s seeing.

Everyone’s packing up. Cleary preparing to go somewhere.

“I don’t know if I want to go,” she admits, wringing her hands around one other. “I don’t think I can.”

I place a comforting hand on her shoulder, pressing my thumb right above her clavicle. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I don’t think anyone would blame you.”

Her eyes meet mine, wide and filled with so many emotions that I can barely breathe. There’s something between us in that moment—something unspoken but undeniable. She looks at me like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded, and it makes me want to be that for her, always.

She sighs. “I think I need to talk to my dad about it.”

If anyone were to want her there, it would be her dad, but I also don’t think he would want to push her to do something she isn’t comfortable with yet.

“Talk to me about what?” Her dad appears behind us. “What’s going on?” He gives her a suspicious look.

“Um—“ She cuts herself off, collecting her thoughts and straightening her spine. “Would it be okay if I didn’t go with you guys to the cemetery?”

His face falls as if he can feel his daughter’s pain. It’s not even a question. “Of course, honey. No one is going to be upset with you if you don’t go.”

She nods, her entire body falling from its once tense position in pure relief. “Okay,” she whispers.

I can tell by the way she looks at me she wants me to stay. “I’ll stay with you.”

Winnie swallows harshly, making her entire jaw flex. “Would you?”

“Of course.” I nod.

As expected, everyone understands where Winnie is coming from. They say their goodbyes as they head out the door and again on the porch.

By the time everyone else is out of the driveway and it’s just Winnie and me, she’s already done a circle around the living room, kitchen, and entryway six times—seven if you count the lap we’re currently on.

“Anything else you’d like to do?” I ask, expecting her to say something like get food or watch a movie.

Safe to say, I’m shocked when she tells me, “I want to get a puppy.”

“What?” I ask, trying to gauge if she is serious or if this is some type of emotional response.

“My mom always wanted one, and we never ended up getting one.” She grabs her purse out of the closet near the front door. “I think it would be nice to have.” There’s a determination in her voice that wasn’t there before, and it’s so very Winnie—trying to bring something good out of a hard day.

I don’t question any of the logistics further. Instead, I lead Winnie to my car and drive her to the nearest animal shelter.

S miling through the pet shop, Winnie walks up and down the aisles littered with puppies in every cage, attempting to make a decision, and it’s not an easy one for a person like her. She’s so kindhearted. She sees puppy after puppy and wants to take home every single one, and if I wasn’t here to be her voice of reason, I think she would.

“Which is your favorite?” She wants my opinion.

I shrug. “It’s not my dog. I think it’s your decision to make, Win.”

She walks up and down the aisles again, scanning every cage for a potential match.

“You’re going to be this dog’s best uncle, so you better decide.”

I cringe. Hard . “I will not be this dog’s uncle,” I tell her, pinching her side before resting my hand on her back.

She frowns slightly. “Why not?”

“Winnie, that would make me your hypothetical brother.” The idea of anyone saying we’re like siblings makes me almost vomit in my mouth.

A look of realization washes over her face. “Oh… yeah, you’re right. You’re definitely not that.”

She stops in the middle of the row, cages surrounding us and the sound of puppies barking in the background, looking around like she’s waiting for one of them to jump out at her.

“This is too many options. I need to narrow it down.” She runs her hands through her hair, clearly concerned with the choice she has to make .

“Hey, don’t let this make you so anxious.” I grab her shoulder, trying to pull her out of her head and back into reality. “Which ones are your top contenders?”

Right as I say that, one of the golden retriever puppies jumps up, standing against the glass of the cage, making direct eye contact with Winnie. She looks down at her, seeing the pink bow tied around her neck.

Her eyes light up at the sight of her, and she automatically moves closer to the cage she’s in.

“I think it’s a sign.” I smile down at the blonde dog. “She has a pink bow.”

Winnie smiles for the first time today—a genuine smile that lights up her entire face—and the best part is, the dog has a matching one.

“She’s the one,” she says tearfully.

“Holy shit,” I say, in complete shock. “Winnie, look at her name.”

Pointing toward the name tag taped to the glass. SUZIE .

“Suzie…” Winnie trails off. “Like Susan.” Her mom.

“It’s fate,” I tell her.

The fact that we never noticed her name or that she was wearing a bow until she jumped up right as Winnie was standing there is what makes the coincidence even more odd.

“I’m getting her.” Winnie’s already rushing toward the front of the store, looking for an employee.

After a couple hours, some paperwork, and a trip to the pet store, we make it back to Winnie’s house, a beautiful golden retriever puppy in tow. One who sat on Winnie’s lap the whole way, licking her face and pawing at her pants, marking herself as Winnie’s new best friend—and I can’t even say I’m jealous.

So, maybe good things do come from bad days.