Taming Georgia (The Flawed Heart Series)

by Ellie Wade

  “That feels amazing,” I tell him with a sigh. My eyes closed, I relax. I’m startled when a furball jumps onto my chest, purring loudly as he nuzzles into me. “Jeez,” I say to the feline that so rudely interrupted my quiet time. “This one’s new,” I say to Wyatt. “Actually, we have a few new office kitties, don’t we?”

  “They’re Ethel’s,” he says. “We’re cat-sitting them while she visits family.”

  “Oh, yeah. I forgot to ask where she was today. Where’s her family?”

  “I have no idea. I didn’t know she had much family. I think she has some cousins in Florida.”

  “She went to Florida? How long is she going to be gone?” I’m glad she’s taking time off, but I feel bad that I didn’t wish her safe travels. She didn’t tell me she was going anywhere. I would’ve said good-bye.”

  “I’m not certain she went to Florida. She’s been weird lately. I try not to ask too many questions.”

  I reach down and pat his arm. “You should ask questions. Show her you care.”

  “She knows I care.”

  “I know she does but still. Sometimes, we have to go out of the way to show the ones we love that we love them.”

  “I promise you, she knows I love her.”

  “Okay, just saying.” I stretch my arms out over my head with a purr as Wyatt moves his adoration over to my other foot.

  The fluffy orange cat snuggles against my side.

  “This one’s sweet,” I say of the cat.

  “Yeah, so I’m told. Ethel calls him Pumpkin.”

  Wyatt finishes massaging my feet and stands. He holds out his hand for me, and I grab it. He pulls me up off of the sofa.

  “Come on, let’s go home,” he says.

  My breath hitches at his request, particularly the word home. I don’t know why. It’s stupid. I know he’s not implying anything by it, but my heart rate quickens just the same.

  Wyatt must notice my reaction because he clarifies, “My home. Do you want to stay over at my place?”

  I smile wide, reassuring him that he didn’t say anything wrong. “Absolutely. Let’s go.”

  I jolt awake. My entire body stands on edge. I blink, adjusting to the darkness around me. My heart still races from the nightmare I just escaped from. It takes me a moment to remember where I am.

  “Wyatt’s,” I whisper to myself, exhaling a relieved breath. I sit up and lean against the wooden headboard. My fingers grasp on to the soft linens beneath me and release as my ragged breaths calm.

  I hate dreams like the one I just woke from, the kinds that are so real and so scary that I’m terrified they’ll pull me under so far that I won’t be able to wake up.

  You’re good, I tell myself. You’re good.

  The moonlight shines in through the window falling onto Wyatt’s bare back. I study him as he sleeps so peacefully, the ridges of his back muscles showcased in the soft glow. He breathes softly, and I can’t get over how incredibly beautiful he is. It’s a regular thought of mine. I’m always catching myself admiring him, stealing glances while he works, studying the way he cares for others, and now, apparently watching him sleep.

  Sometimes, I feel like the seventeen-year-old girl who could barely breathe in his presence while feeling giddy that the cute boy was talking to me.

  We’re doing so much more than talking now.

  My stare lingers over the thin sheet covering his ass, and I know very well what it’s hiding. Memories of earlier flash through my mind, and I shiver. We’re so compatible, Wyatt and me. Our bodies fit together so incredibly that I want him all the time. I’ve never experienced this type of connection with anyone else in my life. I crave Wyatt when he’s not near.

  We’re nothing alike, truthfully, but I think that’s why we work so well. Separate, we’re good, but together, we’re great. We fit like two imperfect puzzle pieces clicking together to make the most stunning picture.

  He’s quiet, whereas I’m loud. He’s reserved, and I’m forward. He loves softly, and I love out loud. He internalizes his fears and pain, whereas I have to release them, crying more often than I should.

  As much as we’re different, we’re the same, cut from the same cloth. We’re both sensitive and caring to the point of heartbreak. We look at the world as something we can make better. We see a problem and attempt to fix it. We give everything to those we love. We have opposing deliveries, but the intent is the same.

  I watch him as an overwhelming feeling of love fills me. I think I love him. We’ve only been dating a couple of weeks, but I think I loved him before all of this—if that’s possible. I thought I’d been in love before, but I know now that I hadn’t. I adored traits of my boyfriends of the past, whether it be their love of travel, human rights efforts, or the adventure they brought me. But I didn’t love any of them completely, as an entire package. I chose what to see in them that I liked, and I ignored the rest.

  That’s not the case now. I see Wyatt—the beautiful and the broken—and I love all of him.

  I cherish him.

  I want him.

  Every piece of him. So desperately, it terrifies me.

  “Hey.” Wyatt’s voice, heavy with sleep, breaks my thoughts. His hand reaches out for mine.

  “Hi.”

  “Are you okay?”

  I nod. “Yeah, just a bad dream.”

  “Come here,” he beckons softly, opening the sheet in front of him.

  I slide down, turn toward the window, and scoot my body back into his. He adjusts until his body perfectly melds with mine. His skin is warm and smooth against mine. I push back into him a little more. He covers us with the blanket and wraps his strong arm around me, tightly holding me to him.

  I sigh as he gently kisses my bare shoulder before laying his head back down. He holds me close. I feel so protected, cherished, and warm. Lying in Wyatt’s arms is like heaven—completely perfect. My eyes close, and my lips turn up. I absorb his breaths as his chest rises and falls against my back.

  Sleeping here with Wyatt brings me such a sense of comfort and security. I drift off to sleep, thinking of his kind heart, beautiful blue eyes, and strong hold. Right before slumber pulls me under, another sensation surfaces. In the space between heartbeats, the unsettling feeling of being trapped emerges, but it’s brief, and then the next beat of my heart comes, and it’s gone before I can truly decide if I felt it at all.

  18

  “The way everything has played out makes me think that there’s another power at play. As much as I don’t believe in it, fate keeps coming to mind.”

  —Wyatt Gates

  Georgia’s arms drape around my neck. “I’m going to go get the room ready for the adoption interviews.”

  “Okay.”

  We’re alone in the office—well, besides a snoring Cooper and too many slumbering cats. I’m still not a fan of public displays of affection, especially here. So, we’ve tried to keep our new relationship on the down-low. Though we’re not very good at it. I should say, Georgia isn’t very good at it. She’s such a loving person by nature. I, on the other hand, have practiced keeping others away for my entire life. She’s one person I’m no longer capable of keeping at arm’s length.

  “You sure you want me to do this on my own? You wouldn’t be more comfortable if you or Ethel sat in with me?”

  I shake my head. “Nope. You’re ready. It’s a perfect job for you. You’re way more of a people person than I am. Plus, Ethel’s running late. You’re now here full-time, and all of a sudden, she’s become lazy.”

  “Hey, she’s not lazy,” Georgia chastises.

  “I know. I’m just kidding.”

  “She deserves a few hours off here and there. She works so hard, and truthfully, she should be retired. She’s only here because she wants to help you.”

  “She won’t retire. She’s too stubborn.”

  “Well, there’s a lot of that going around.” She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me.

  It’s just a quick peck at first,
but then it deepens, as it always does. Georgia’s lips are irresistible. If I didn’t have a rescue to run, I’d be kissing them all the time.

  She pulls away. “I have to go get ready. They’re going to—”

  I capture her mouth with my own. My tongue delves deeper, wanting to savor her.

  She steps back with a sigh. “I really have to.” She points toward the door.

  “Fine,” I grumble.

  “Later,” she promises.

  “Later.”

  Cooper wakes, lifting his head from the sofa to check everything out.

  “Do you want to help, Coopie?” she asks Cooper in a high-pitched voice, the kind that people tend to use when speaking to dogs for some reason.

  He jumps off the couch and prances out of the office behind her.

  What a traitor.

  I smile.

  “I do love that sight.” Ethel startles me, jolting me away from my Georgia daydreams. “Wyatt Gates is smiling.”

  “Whatever.” I turn toward the desk.

  “It’s about time. I’m so giddy; I can hardly contain myself.”

  “Well, please try,” I say dryly. “By the way, nice of you to show up.”

  “I told you I’d be late. This lady needed some time to herself.”

  “That’s fine. Take as much time as you need.” I look to her and notice that she looks more tired than usual. “Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s perfect.” She smiles.

  Ethel has been over the moon since Georgia came back to work, even more so now that we’re a couple. It’s been a little over three weeks since I showed up on Georgia’s front porch with Mila and Cooper, hoping to fill a void that I couldn’t explain. I didn’t know what I hoped to accomplish when I showed up at her house, unannounced. But I knew I needed something. Deep down, I knew I needed her.

  As much as I tried to convince myself that Georgia was no one important since high school, she’s never vacated my thoughts. It seems so silly that a girl I flirted with, copied off of in Biology class, and shared one kiss with could have such staying power. But she has. The way everything has played out makes me think that there’s another power at play. As much as I don’t believe in it, fate keeps coming to mind.

  Our relationship is just shy of a month, and I’d be lying if I said I still didn’t have insecurities. The demons of my past continue to rear their ugly heads and make me doubt everything. Then, one look from Georgia brings me back from the darkness.

  Despite what she says, I’m not an easy person to love. Yet she’s always here, patiently loving me.

  “Sit.”

  Jasper, one of our bully mixes, complies to the command immediately.

  “Good boy,” I tell him as I give him a treat.

  I work with the adult dogs to make sure they’re all trained in basic commands and manners before they’re adopted out. Pit bull breeds are loveable and sweet, but they’re also very strong. An untrained dog is often like a bull in a china shop. They already have a bad stereotype. I don’t want to risk one jumping up on their owner because they’re excited and accidentally knocking them down. I can’t prevent all mishaps from happening, but if I can stop someone from getting hurt by their excited pet, that’s one less negative story about this breed out there.

  I’m setting him up for the stay command when Georgia enters.

  “Hey, how did it go?” I ask.

  She’s been interviewing potential adopters all day.

  “Good. Really good. Pending the home checks, three adult dogs and four from Hope’s litter have found homes.”

  She tells me a little about the dogs that were chosen and what their new owners are like. Her face lights up as she speaks of the kids that are going to be able to grow up with their new four-legged family member.

  “Isn’t it great when the families have kids? I would’ve loved to have a dog growing up,” I tell her.

  Her mouth falls into a frown, and her bottom lip begins to tremble. Her eyes fill with tears.

  “What is it?” I rush toward her and pull her into my arms.

  She shakes her head and continues to cry into my chest. Putting my hands on her arms, I hold her back so that I can see her face.

  “Please tell me. What is it?”

  “Well”—she sniffs—“the last couple that I met with chose”—she sucks in air between broken sobs—“Mila.”

  There’s so much sadness in her eyes. I know how she feels. It’s impossible not to love all of these dogs. It’s very difficult when one you’ve built a special bond with leaves. I’ve gotten better at letting them go over the years, but I remember how much my heart hurt in the beginning.

  “I’m sorry. I know how hard this is.”

  She hugs me tight, pressing her cheek against my chest. “I love her so much. I can’t imagine not seeing her every day. She’s our miracle puppy.”

  “I know. It’s tough to let the ones you love go. You have to think about how you played a part in finding her a forever home. You loved and cared for her while she was here. You helped save her. Now, she’s going to go to a good home with a family who will adore her. That’s the best thing we can do for our dogs.”

  Georgia nods. “I get it, but she’s mine. From the moment she was born, she’s been mine. I was so stupid. I should’ve adopted her while I had the chance. Now, it’s too late. I don’t know what I’m going to do without her.”

  My arms wrap around her back as it heaves with sobs.

  I hold her as she cries. I’m not sure there is a solution to a broken heart other than time. Jasper catches my attention in my peripheral as he sits just as I left him.

  Wow. What a great dog.

  When Georgia’s tears cease and her breathing steadies, I kiss her on the forehead and release my hold on her.

  “Feel better?” I ask.

  “No,” she huffs. “It sucks, but I’m hungry.”

  I chuckle. “Well, we can’t have that. We definitely need to get you some food.”

  “Yes, please,” she says softly.

  “Let’s put Jasper away.” I grab a handful of treats. “Do you know that he sat perfectly that whole time? He’s awesome. We should look into possibly putting him into some sort of therapy dog training program.”

  “That would be perfect. I can do that,” she says.

  “Okay.”

  I turn my attention to Jasper and give him his treats while rubbing his head. “Good job, boy. Good job,” I tell him many times. Holding my hand at my side, I say, “Come.”

  He follows on command.

  “What are we doing after dinner?” she questions.

  “I’m not sure. Why?”

  “Can I stay the night at your place tonight?”

  “I was hoping you would,” I admit.

  “Okay. I was thinking that maybe I could bring Mila, too. We can hang out all night and snuggle as a good-bye.”

  “You don’t think that will make it harder on you?”

  “Probably.” Sorrow lines her voice. “But I still want to.”

  “It’s your call.”

  She slides her fingers through mine as she walks beside me. Normally, I wouldn’t allow us to hold hands in front of the guys. The display of affection feels out of place here at work. But I don’t mind now. Georgia’s sad, and our connection provides her some peace. It’s surreal that I have the ability to give someone comfort. I’m not a bad person—I know that—but I’m never in this position. I’ve never felt this way for someone and had those same feelings reciprocated.

  I just feel good. For the first time in a long time, I’m completely happy. Each morning when I wake up next to Georgia is like the first time. I simply stare, convincing myself that she’s real, that we’re real.

  I’m not the praying type, and yet I find myself constantly beseeching a higher power to make her stay, to make us work, to make what we have truly real.

  One thing that’s always rang true for me in life is that if it feels too good to be true, it’s b
ecause it is. I just pray that this is the first time where that saying doesn’t apply. I don’t ask for much in life, but I’m asking for Georgia.

  Selfish as the request might be, I need her to be mine.

  19

  “There’s never been a time in my life where every aspect of it was perfect, but at this very second, I know what it’s like to exist among perfection.” —Georgia Wright

  I loudly blow my nose into the tissue and grab another one to dry my eyes. I’m bawling uncontrollably over a TV show. My favorite character in my new guilty pleasure is currently being murdered by the love of his life.

  Like, what the hell, writers?

  “Life’s not fair; that’s for sure,” I say as I watch as he takes his last breath, my vision blurred with tears.

  Since I’ve been with Wyatt, I haven’t had time to continue my TV marathon, and today’s a perfect day for it. Paige is out of state, visiting her boyfriend, and Wyatt’s at the rescue, working, like always. I’m usually there with him. I love being at the shelter. But I needed to take today off.

  Mila’s adopters are picking her up, and I just can’t be there for it. The last thing the young couple who’s adopting their first dog needs is a blubbering mess tainting their experience.

  My heart aches, and I don’t know if the pain will ever diminish. I blame myself. She could’ve been mine from the start if I had committed.

  But adopting her would’ve held implications I wasn’t ready for. It would’ve bound me to a grown-up lifestyle, one where I couldn’t take off for another country on a whim.

  “I’m an idiot,” I say aloud to no one.

  I let Mila go to another family when I know that no one will love her more than I do all because I’m afraid to settle down.

  Why am I so afraid?

  My passport sits on the end table beside my bed. It’s a constant reminder of my ability to leave. Oddly enough, it gives me comfort. But why? I don’t want to be anywhere else other than where I am. Yet I leave out items, such as my passport, that let me know that I could leave if I wanted to.

  There’s a knock at the door, and then Wyatt’s voice sounds from the foyer. “Hey, Peaches?”