Savannah followed, explaining, "The plumbing works in both bathrooms, but only about half of the outlets have power. I brought up some extension cords in case you need them."
"We'll make it work," Scarlett assured her.
"Let me know if you need anything at all," Savannah said, heading for the door. Scarlett caught her in a tight hug.
"Thank you for making us feel so at home."
Savannah grinned as she stepped out of the hug. "It's all self-interest. If you're at home, maybe you'll stay. Nicky loves having you here, and so do I."
I caught Savannah before she left. "Thank you."
She surprised me with a quick hug. "It took my mind off watching the clock. You scared the hell out of us."
"Sorry about that."
Patting my shoulder, she said, "No, you're not. You shouldn't be. You did the right thing."
Something occurred to me, and I followed Savannah out into the hall, glancing across to an open door. "I can't stay with Scarlett, but I don't like them alone in this wing with all the trouble Bryce—"
"I have you covered." Savannah strode across the hall and pushed open the door opposite Scarlett's. This room was still mostly empty, but the double bed had fresh sheets and there was a lamp on the dresser. "No bathroom, but it's the closest to the stairs and to Scarlett. If you leave the door cracked, you'll know if anyone comes this way."
"You're the best, Savannah."
She flashed me a very satisfied smile. "I know. Now, go help your woman put those kids to bed before they realize how overtired they are and go bonkers on her."
Shouts of outrage echoed across the hall. Savannah's eyebrows shot up. We both recognized the sounds of a sibling war in the making. "Too late." Patting my arm, she strode away, her laughter floating in her wake.
Getting both boys to calm down enough to go to bed was a new experience. August was wound up tight, overstimulated by the drama of our last-minute arrival, the late bedtime, and the company of the brother he'd missed so much. We finally got them in bed, Scarlett rubbing August's back while I leaned in the door frame, watching as the younger boy chattered non-stop to his brother, who answered mostly in grunts until August's voice abruptly shut off. He was out.
Scarlett got up and moved to perch on the side of Thatcher's bed, combing her fingers through his hair, murmuring soft words I couldn't hear. I left to go back to my own room and grab a few supplies. Some clothes, a bottle of water, phone charger, toothbrush, and a bottle of whiskey with two tumblers. If ever we deserved a drink, it was now.
Scarlett sank onto the velvet chaise in her new room, curling into me as she took her tumbler of whiskey. "My head is still spinning. Was it really this morning that Bryce threatened to have me arrested? I feel like I've lived two lifetimes since then."
"Me, too." I paused, balanced on a precipice, not sure if I should dive over the edge. Fuck it. Luck was with me so far today. Might as well ride the wave. "Want me to spin your head a little more?"
Scarlett's eyebrows pulled together in disappointment. "We can't. Not with the boys—"
I nudged her shoulder, completely unable to stop the knowing grin that spread across my face. "Not that. Not tonight. Thatcher is holding it together, but today was intense. I know you want to leave the door open in case he needs you."
Scarlett's green eyes studied mine. "How do you know that?"
I leaned in to kiss her, a slow meeting of lips, the taste of whiskey on her tongue. "Because I pay attention."
"You certainly do," she said, her soft lips grazing mine. Pulling back slowly, she sipped her whisky. "Then what? What could you possibly say that would make my head spin even more than it already is?"
I stepped off the cliff. "I want you to stay."
Her eyes widened, mouth curving. "I don't have to be back until—"
"No, Scarlett. I want you to stay. Not ‘until.’ I want you to stay."
Her mouth dropped open. Staring at me, dumbfounded, Scarlett didn't say a word. With a sudden move, she drained her glass. I took it, setting it on the floor beside the chaise. I'd known I was going to shock her. I'd shocked myself the first time the idea had hit me.
What if they stayed? What if she was mine? If they were mine? The idea was crazy. The list of reasons why not was a mile long.
"You barely know me," she breathed. Clearly, I'd succeeded in making her head spin.
"I know everything I need to know."
"I have the boys—"
"Did you think I missed that? They're great kids."
Scarlett let out a gust of a laugh. "Thatcher—"
"—fucked up. Everyone does. And Elliott was no small part of that. Thatcher's thirteen and he wanted to help his dad."