Page 1 of If Love Had A Manual (Skeptically In Love #2)

Wes

Before, I was a man who built things, a guy who fixed what was broken.

I worked my ass off because I believed in the life I was constructing.

The shop was humming with business, the house was finally becoming a home, and my routine was as solid as the walls I hammered together.

I had a future in mind. It felt so close I could taste it.

After? I’m still not sure who I am now. I’m just here, standing in a too-quiet kitchen. The silence settles into the corners like dust, reminding me of all the sounds that used to fill this place. Sounds I’d do anything to have back.

I pick up the beer, turning the bottle between my fingers. Condensation drips onto the countertop, forming little puddles.

I close my eyes and realize the hush is so absolute, it’s almost claustrophobic.

There’s no babbling from Rosie’s sweet little voice in the background.

No late-night phone calls from Amber just to check in.

No sound of Lyndsey’s slippers scuffing across the floor as she’d mumble that I should just go to bed, that this can’t be healthy, sitting alone in the dark like some ghost waiting to vanish.

Nothing but silence.

My lungs tighten, and I exhale a harsh breath, setting the bottle back down. I try to shake the memories, but my head won’t let me.

In an instant, I’m no longer in the kitchen. My thoughts drag me back to that moment. The night everything changed forever.

∞∞∞

Rosie was about six months old then, a tiny little wonder I never seemed to get tired of holding.

I’d just finished swaying her to sleep, my arms aching but my chest so full of love it felt like it might burst. I’d set her down in her travel cot with practiced motions, so proud of how gentle I’d become with her.

She was my niece, sure, but she felt like a piece of my heart .

Lyndsey was leaning against the doorframe, a mischievous glint in her eye. We were both a little giddy, running on adrenaline from juggling bottles and diapers and lullabies.

There was laughter in her voice as she said, “She’s out cold, huh?”

I nodded and pressed a finger to my lips. “We need to be quiet,” I whispered, fighting a smirk as I took her hand, tugging her toward the living room. “Rosie’s a light sleeper.”

“You’re telling me.” Lyndsey laughed under her breath. “I’ve been shushed by you a dozen times already.”

“Promise I’ll make it up to you.” I arched a brow, leaning in like I might steal a kiss. “If we can just manage not to wake her up again—”

She silenced me by leaning in, her lips brushing against mine, and for the first time all night, I thought maybe we could steal a few minutes of peace.

I threaded my fingers through her hair and felt my heart kick up in my chest. The day had been hectic, but this felt like a reward.

Like a sweet, secret moment we deserved after playing stand-in parents.

Her hushed laugh filled the space between us, the tension in the air shifting from chaos to something else, something warmer and infinitely more dangerous.

I could feel the heat of her body, and the way her breath hitched when my hand slid beneath the hem of her shirt.

We were two seconds away from forgetting everything except each other when a sharp knock shattered the quiet.

Lyndsey froze, eyes wide as she pulled back. “I thought you said you had Rosie overnight?”

“I do,” I said, frowning. “They’re not supposed to pick her up until morning.”

I glanced at the clock, wondering if Amber and Mike had decided to come back early, maybe forgetting something for Rosie. With one last apologetic squeeze of Lyndsey’s hand, I strode to the front door.

My stomach lurched the second I opened it.

Two uniformed police officers stood on my porch. I hadn’t lived a squeaky-clean life or anything, but there was something in the way they stood. The way they carried the weight of a tragedy on their shoulders made every part of me go cold.

“Wesley Turner?” the taller officer asked.

I managed a nod, vaguely aware that Lyndsey was hovering in the hallway behind me, looking as tense and worried as I felt.

“Sir,” the other officer began, his tone gentler than I’d ever heard a cop speak. “We’re sorry to disturb you so late. There’s been an accident involving your sister and her husband.”

My mouth went dry. I remember staring at them, the words not quite clicking. A numbness spread from the center of my chest outward.

The officer kept talking, though it sounded like his voice was coming from underwater.

“They were involved in a collision on the highway. The car… we did everything we could to—” He stopped, swallowing hard, and I suddenly realized my heart was pounding so loudly that I could barely hear him over the roar of blood in my ears.

“I’m sorry, sir. Neither of them survived. ”

All at once, the world seemed to fall away beneath me. I heard Lyndsey gasp at my back—a strangled and broken sound that confirmed this was real, that I wasn’t imagining these words .

I didn’t realize I had staggered until the taller cop reached out a hand to steady me. My sister. My brother-in-law. Gone. Just like that. It made no sense. Amber was the bright, fierce heartbeat of our family. And Mike was so steady, so proud to be her husband, so damn good at loving her.

And Rosie…

Christ.

My eyes flicked automatically to the stairs, to where Rosie slept, perfectly peaceful, oblivious to the fact that her entire world had just fractured. She was theirs. Their baby. Their miracle.

I couldn’t wrap my mind around the quiet heartbreak settling in my chest.

I remember the officers said something about waiting for the official coroner’s report, about next of kin, about how sorry they were.

All I could do was stand there, nodding like a man in a trance, while Lyndsey quietly wept behind me.

Numbness sank into my bones, the kind that makes you feel hollow from the inside out.

At some point, I shut the door. I turned to Lyndsey, saw her tear-streaked cheeks, and heard a tiny cry from upstairs.

Rosie stirred as if she somehow sensed the catastrophe rippling through the house.

When I stumbled to the travel cot and scooped her up, I realized that everything had changed in a single moment.

Amber was gone. Mike was gone. Rosie had no parents now.

And I was lost.

∞∞∞

The memory slams into me and leaves me breathless as I’m yanked back into my empty kitchen.

My hands grip the counter to keep from shaking, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

The unopened beer stares me down, shining in the overhead light while Rosie’s baby monitor hums softly like a half-forgotten lullaby.

I feel the crushing weight of all that’s happened, of losing Amber and Mike, trying to raise Rosie, watching Lyndsey walk away when she realized I was too broken to let her in.

And now I’m forced with another choice: hire the nanny or soldier on alone, like I have been since the day the cops knocked on my door.

I hate how it all turned out. How my heart feels splintered into too many pieces to count. But what I want doesn’t matter anymore. This is about Rosie and her needs, her future, her happiness. She’s lost enough in her short life, and I’ll be damned if I let her lose anything else.

Setting the beer aside, I press the heels of my palms into my eyes, willing the memories to stop clawing at me. My throat feels tight, and my lungs burn like I’ve been holding my breath for months. In some ways, I probably have.

I might not know exactly who I am now. I might not know if I’ll ever be the same guy I was before. But I do know one thing: Rosie deserves more than this empty shell of a man I’ve become. She deserves stability, laughter, and a home filled with love instead of quiet devastation.

I might not have all the answers, but I have one, and I’ll do anything to keep her safe, to give her the life Amber and Mike would’ve wanted for her.

Even if it means letting someone else in, letting a nanny help where I can’t handle it alone.

Even if it means facing the gaping hole in my chest every single day .

I couldn’t save Amber or Mike. I couldn’t stop that knock at the door. But I can show up for Rosie, day in and day out, giving her a shot at a happy childhood. One not defined solely by loss.

So I inhale, brace myself, and step away from the counter. The decision feels monumental, yet it also feels like there was never another option. Tomorrow, I’ll make the call. I’ll invite a stranger into our lives to help with the one precious thing I have left.

I can’t go back to before, but maybe I can find a way forward. For Rosie’s sake, and maybe, one day, for mine too.