“Sure.” I huff. “Bite. Eat. Hook. Whatever the right word is. What happens then?”
He lies back on the blanket and covers his face with his hat. “Then we wait until one does.”
“All day?”
“All day, Big City.”
I can do this. This is country life according to him. People, who I don’t know or understand, enjoy this. I guess it would be relaxing if I could actually relax, so I try. I have to remind myself that he made an effort to bake with me, so I can do the same with fishing.
My leg starts to bounce as I wait for a fish to . . . bite. They should be hungry, right? I don’t know what stocking a lake entails, but I’d assume that only the Hennington’s come here. I’m also safe to assume that they don’t come every day because they work. If that’s the case, they should want to eat.
“Here fishy, fishy, fishy,” I call quietly.
“Angie?” Wyatt’s smirk is visible from under his hat. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m calling the fish! Maybe they come like a cat?”
Wyatt bursts out laughing.
I remember the old Sesame Street episode that my brother loved. It was Bert and Ernie in the boat. Ernie, of course being the sensible one (that’s me in this situation), knew he could get the fish to come into the boat. But Bert (Wyatt) thought he was nuts. But the fish jumped up. It was brilliant.
“Laugh away, babe. I’m telling you . . . it’ll work.”
He sits up, unable to even attempt to control his hyena-style laughter. “I’ve been fishin’ since I was little, and I have never seen anyone call for a fish.”
“It worked for Ernie!” I defend.
“Ernie?”
“Yeah!” I say as if it should be obvious. “From Sesame Street. He was always the smarter of the two.”
Wyatt’s jaw drops as his shoulders bounce. “I’ve gotta see this.” He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Fine.” I perk up and lean over the side of the boat again. “Here fishy, fishy, fishy,” I say it again, reenacting the scene as I remember it. He sits there, trying to hold it in. I slap his leg. “Stop! Don’t laugh at me,” I complain playfully. I look at the line that still doesn’t move. “The fish are sleeping. That’s all. You came out here too early. They’re late risers.”
His warm, rich laughter filters the air. “You’re probably right.”
“I know I am. Fish would love me if they knew me.”
Wyatt shifts forward on his knees. His hands cage me in. Slowly he leans forward, careful not to jostle the boat. “You,” he says, his eyes melting into a hooded softness, “are the single most beautiful thing in this world. The fish would be lucky to get hooked on your line.”
Everything inside me clenches. My breathing becomes slightly faster as his lips inch closer. “Me?” Wyatt nods. “Are you hooked on my line?”
“Yes,” he confirms. “You’re out here on my boat, on my land, and in my life, makin’ me see things for the first time. I’ve never felt like this before. I’ve never wanted to be something so much, and yet hope it eludes me a little more.”
My hand touches his cheek. “You want me to keep fighting this?”
His eyes close as he rubs his face in my palm. “I love watching your walls crumble. I love watching your reasons diminish. I’m really going to enjoy it when you finally realize just how much you want me.” His voice drops, and he looks at me again, serious this time. “Because make no mistake—you’ll want me. I’m makin’ damn sure of it.”
I don’t doubt him for a single second.
I shift in my seat a little bit and try to slow my racing heart. “I think we should make a bet.”
He grins. “Name the terms.”
“If I catch the first fish, you have to bring the fish home and cook it with your brothers on a different day so I don’t have to eat it.” He nods. “And if you catch it, I’ll do this fish fry thing you speak of.”
Wyatt puts his hand out. “Deal.”
We shake, and then I start praying to the fish Gods, if there are any, to please let me win. First, it would be funny to watch him lose to a city girl. Second, I really don’t like fish. They have those beady eyes and some have teeth . . . no thank you. I would much rather stick with an animal I don’t have to look at before I eat it.
I’m weird, but I can’t do it.
After another hour of trying to guess what shape the clouds are, which sucks after three minutes, Wyatt closes his eyes. I do spot a penis-shaped cloud, but that’s only slightly amusing.
I’m too bored to nap again. I truly have no idea how people find fishing fun. My fish calling doesn’t work, and gazing at the horizon is about as fun as trying to count leaves, which I got to one thousand four hundred and twenty-two before I quit.
“I’m bored,” I mutter.
“Let yourself relax, baby.”
Fat chance of that. “This is me relaxed.”
He opens one eye and smirks. “You could always try to call for the fish again.”
“Shut up.”
Wyatt laughs. “You never know, it could work.”
“Don’t make me throw you off the boat,” I retort.
“You could try.” Wyatt takes my hand, pulling me on top of him. “Or you could kiss me again.”
My heart races as I look into his eyes. Now that would be fun. My lips slowly make their way to his, but I freeze when I hear this cranking sound.
Both our eyes snap up, and I see the fishing pole moving and the reel spinning. A fish! I don’t know whose line it is, but someone has a fish.
Then it dawns on me it could be his line.
Shit.
“Wyatt!” I slap his chest. “Something is hooked!” I climb on to my knees and go to grab the rod, but I have no idea what to do. It keeps spinning and making that noise. I look over at him with a mix of fear and excitement. “Aren’t you going to help?”
Finally, he gets up and puts his hand on the spinning wheel thing, stopping it. “Here, reel him in slow.”
Wyatt shifts around so his front is against my back. His hand covers mine as he guides me through catching what I’m praying is not dinner. His warm breath heats my neck, and I melt a little into him. “Like this?” I ask.
He nudges his nose in the crook of my neck. “Mmm hmm.”
His lips press against my skin, and I have to focus on not throwing the damn rod off the side of the boat.
“Just keep going?” I ask with a double meaning.
He stops kissing me when he feels something that I clearly didn’t notice. “Stop for a second.” I do, and the line jerks again. “Okay, pull him in nice and slow.”
We do and the reel gets harder and harder to turn. Wyatt starts to pull the rod with his arms wrapped around me.
The fish finally comes out of the water, and I gasp. “Ahh! Hi, fishy!” Wyatt brings him over in the boat. “Put it back!” I yell as the fish flops by our feet and all the blood drains from my face.
“Put it back?” Wyatt asks like I’m crazy.
“Yes!” I start gagging a little again. “I’m going to puke!”
He moves around and does something, but I can’t watch. Just seeing it was enough to make my stomach roll. I lean my head back over the side of the boat. I may not have any kind of morning sickness, but clearly I can’t handle the idea of fish.
I hear a splash in the water, and I look over. The fish is gone. Thank God. I right myself as Wyatt moves back over to me.
“Clearly fishing isn’t your thing,” he says while wrapping his arms around my chest.
“I tried.”
He kisses the side of my head. “You did. And that was your line.”
“It was?” I perk up a little.
Wyatt moves his lips to my shoulders. “I think you’ve caught more than one fish today.”
“Yeah?” I ask, moving my head so we’re now face to face. “There were two on that line?” I swear I only saw one.
“No, baby. I think yo
u hooked something else.”
Okay, fishing may suck, but fishing with Wyatt is pretty kick ass. And I don’t think I’m the only one who caught something today.
“AND THEN WHAT?” PRESLEY PRACTICALLY bounces in her seat as I relay what happened the other night at the bakery. “Did you guys . . .” She puts the cup of coffee to her lips, and her eyes bug out.
“No. We didn’t.” I laugh.
Sometimes I forget how innocent Presley has always been. While I was screaming at parties, dancing on bars, and doing a lot of very unladylike things in bathrooms, Presley was studying. She was never adventurous, but she balanced me. I pulled her out of her small-town world, and she made sure I didn’t end up knocked up.
Lot of good that did.
“Because you guys might, what? Get pregnant?” She scoffs, clearly disappointed that we didn’t.
“No, my dear friend.” I roll my eyes. “It wasn’t about that. It was about us and pushing a little more.”
“I’m sure it was.”
I think about how great he was. I always knew he was a good guy. Presley always spoke about him in the highest regard. Plus, I’ve seen him with the boys. Men don’t spend time with other people’s kids if they’re douchebags. I didn’t know he was this fantastic.
“This is going to sound ridiculous, but . . .” I can’t even believe I’m going to ask this. “Why the hell did you not date him?”
Pres snorts and purses her lips. “Wyatt and I have known each other since birth. I don’t remember a time in my childhood without him. But even back then, Zach was all I saw. Wyatt was my best friend, but I never looked at him like that. Besides, he didn’t show interest in me until his brother and I were together.” She laughs. “It was like the kid who didn’t get the shiny toy. That was when Wyatt suddenly liked me or whatever. But honestly, I could never see him that way. His friendship meant way too much to me. It’s not because there was anything wrong with him. I would’ve been lucky to love Wyatt. He’s the most selfless person I know.”
She makes sense. I’ve never had a man I loved like that or a friend I wouldn’t risk screwing. “I understand. I think.”
“Let me put it this way.” Presley shifts in her seat. “If there were no Zachary, I would’ve married Wyatt before he could’ve changed his mind. He’s the guy you marry, Ang. He’s the guy you build your whole life around. He’s the guy you move for.”
Her eyes grow serious at the last sentence. I know she’s saying that I would be an idiot to walk away from him. She won’t say that, though. She knows I need to come to this on my own terms and I can’t be forced or feel as if there’s no other choice. There’s always a choice. I just hope I don’t fuck it up.
“I hear you, Pres. I hear what you’re saying.”
So,” she draws out the word. “Tell me where you’re going on your date with Wyatt next week.”
I wish I knew. He won’t say a word. The man likes his surprises.
“No clue.”
“Typical, Wyatt. He probably hasn’t figured it out yet so he can’t tell you.” Presley has warned me that where Zach is the romantic type, Wyatt is not. He’s never had to be. At the same time, I’m not the romance type of girl. I don’t need to be wooed. I need to know I’m not wasting my damn time. “But then again, I figure this date is going to be different. You better throw your stupid rule book out.” Pres warns me.
“I’m pretty sure we’ll break every damn rule I came here with. Multiple times.”
She laughs. “Oh, thank God. Did you really think you guys wouldn’t hit it off?”
“I didn’t want to think about it. I also didn’t want anyone to have any outside input.”
Presley’s eyes study mine, and I remember how much she knows about me. Presley heard me cry many nights when my mother would let me know how much of a disappointment I was. She watched me fall apart the night she told me that having me was a mistake and probably expedited her becoming sick. My mother has blamed me in some way for every horrible part of her life. I don’t know why or what I did other than try to be a good daughter, but she’s let me know it wasn’t appreciated.
She also knows my mother is capable of many shitty things. Presley was on the receiving end of it once, and my brother put a stop to it. On Presley’s wedding day my mother made one hell of a scene about where her seat was placed. She called Presley names, threw a king-size fit, and Todd practically threw her out. My father smoothed it over, but it ended with me trying to fix Presley’s makeup after she burst into tears.
“You know that her opinion doesn’t matter, right?”
And there you have it. She knows exactly what I worry about. “I do.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
She shifts in her seat. “I’ve known you for . . . well, ever. I’ve gotten to see some of your family’s interactions. Things that neither Todd nor I ever understood. But there was a reason we stayed in Philly instead of going to Florida like your parents begged us to. We didn’t want the kids around your mom’s constant criticism or your brother’s bullshit. Todd never saw you that way, Ang.”
When she talks about Todd like this, I start to ache. “Todd was never like them,” I say with emotion dripping from each word. He was so much more.
He was more of a protector than my father was. Todd always made sure that he took the brunt of Josh’s crap when all three of us were together. Then he left this world without so much as a goodbye.
And I let him.
It’s not like I knew he was in trouble, but I should’ve. I was his sister, and we were close. I should’ve known something was wrong, but I was oblivious. I hate myself for it.
“No.” She takes my hand. “He wasn’t. He loved you so much. He saw you as his perfect little sister. You weren’t just my reason for wanting to stay in Pennsylvania. You were his, too. You’ve spent your life pushing people away because of what your mother did. Todd and I were the only people you let in. He cherished that, Ang. He was always worried about you. There were so many nights that he would talk about you needing someone to be there for you. I wish he could see you now.”
Presley may hide the pain of Todd’s suicide well, and she puts up a really good front. I admire her for that, but there’s a lot of hurt that we both carry, but she can’t hide it from me. “Todd did a lot of damage to us, though.”
She leans back in her chair, looks out the window, and then turns back to me. “Yeah. He really did.” Presley and the boys have struggled, but with Zach, her family, and Wyatt . . . they’ve been okay. “But we have choices, babe. We can sit around and feel sorry for ourselves or we can rise up. I didn’t want to lose my house, my job, my business, and my life, but I did. I came here, sucked it up, worked my ass off, and by some grace of God, I found my way back to Zach. It was a gift, and maybe Todd is up there giving you one too.”
Tears form in her eyes but she holds them back. I know how much she loved my brother. I also know that since she came back to Bell Buckle, we’ve barely spoken about him. A few times of course regarding the kids, but not about what she and I went through. I’m not sure why that is, but we skate around the surface.
However, the last thing my brother would ever want is me pregnant with a cowboy from Tennessee’s baby. He hated this place. And I’m pretty sure he hated the Hennington family. Well, one of them at least.
The thought of him behind this at all is hilarious. And somewhat gross.
“You think Todd’s gift to me is a baby?” I try to hold back the laugh, but it tumbles from my lips.
“No!” She giggles, clearly following where I’m going with this. “I think his gift is for you to no longer be alone.”
“The baby?”
She shakes her head and looks at me like I’m being dense. “No, babe. Wyatt.”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Although I’m surprised it would come in the form of your soon-to-be brother-in-law.”
Presley practically shoots coffee out of her nose as she laughs. “I can’t i
magine he’s happy about that. I have to believe he’s doing what he can to make sure we’re all taken care of, even though he’s not here anymore.”
“Do you miss him?”
She places her cup down and draws her bottom lip in. “I miss a lot of things.”
I give her a few seconds as she seems to weigh her words.
“I miss the happy times. I miss the way he would look at me.” Presley’s eyes move back to mine, and I see the tears there. “He looked at me as if I were the reason he existed. That’s not something I’ll ever forget. To be loved by him was really all-encompassing. But I’m angry. I’m angry that a man could look at me like that and chose to leave. I’m livid that he took that love from me and left me with a mess. It makes me believe that all I had was a lie—a big, horrible lie. And sometimes the anger is so great that I can’t see anything else. It’s been two years, and there are nights when I close my eyes and can still see him there motionless as I beg for him to come back to life. I will never forget that either. It’s a really hard thing to be tied up in two such conflicting emotions.”
For all the things that she’s struggled through, I can’t imagine what she went through that day. I was there for the after, but I can’t possibly fathom finding him.
I just can’t.
“I’m glad you have Zach.” I genuinely am.
“Zach makes me not so angry anymore. He loves the boys. You should see him coaching baseball with Cayden. It’s hysterical. He’ll do the things their father decided not to be a part of. But more than that,” she takes my hand, “he loves me. And I think you’re starting to see that loving someone is a gift. It’s not that you’re incapable, like your mother, it’s that there wasn’t anyone worthy of it.”
“I don’t love Wyatt.”
She leans back and grins. “You sure about that?”
“I don’t. It’s crazy soon. I’ve been here what? Almost a month?”
“You told me once that Todd fell in love with me the minute he saw me,” she retorts.
Damn her and her elephant memory. “I thought he was insane.”
“Maybe it’s a family trait.”
“Bitch.” I laugh.
Presley shrugs and goes back to her coffee.
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