Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1)

by S. D. Hendrickson

  His mom paused, taking in the contents of the trailer. Her eyes drifted across the living room and into the bare kitchen. I realized it was the first time she’d seen the inside of where her son lived.

  “Is water okay?” I asked her.

  “Yeah, it’s fine.” She finally sat down on the couch, unpacking the basket. Her eyes glanced up to the bookshelf several times until she finally asked the question that had plagued her thoughts. “Have you read all of those books?”

  “I have,” he muttered, getting the plates out of the cabinet.

  “Huh, well, that shouldn’t surprise me, I guess.”

  “No?” I asked. His love of books honestly surprised me.

  A whimsical smile slipped on her lips. “As a little boy, Wyatt always liked me to read to him. He would say, ‘Again, again.’ I had to read some of them twice or three times before he would go to sleep. But he eventually got older and grew out of it. I guess he didn’t like hearing his old mom reading out loud to him. I don’t remember the last time I saw Wyatt pick up a book that wasn’t for school.”

  I set the cups of water on the coffee table. “Well, he actually reads them out loud to the dogs in the kennel.”

  Wyatt froze in mid-step with the plates in his hands. Maybe that wasn’t something I should’ve shared, but I knew it was the right decision the moment I saw his mom’s face. Karen looked at him with a sense of awe and relief. So I kept on talking. “He will have to take you out to see the dogs after we eat. Show you around the place. See what he does out here. He’s like magic with them.”

  “That sounds nice.” Karen looked at Wyatt. The obvious yearning was there in her gaze. He gave her a quick nod in agreement. I took a drink of water, trying to calm down the nervous flutters. This was going better than I’d ever expected.

  Willa picked up Gus, holding him like a baby in her lap. He licked every inch of her fingers, and I smiled at their reunion. She obviously loved her dog, yet she had given him to her brother because she loved him too. Gus was the piece that still held them together.

  As we ate, the conversation grew easier. I gushed over his mom’s wonderful food. Willa told us about the GED program and studying for the test. They both asked me a hundred questions about my classes and working at the nursing home. I can’t say Wyatt contributed that much, but he made an effort to speak when asked a question.

  And then out of the blue, he looked at his sister. “You should take Gus back with you.”

  “I can’t do that,” she protested, but her smile couldn’t remain hidden.

  “I think it’s time. I’ve been thinking about moving Charlie in here anyway. I’m going to keep him.” His eyes sought mine. As far as I knew, my little dog was still on the adoption list. But now Wyatt wanted to keep him, which meant he was keeping him for me. Another little brick for our future. Neither of us said anything, but I think Willa caught the exchange. Her grin got a little bigger as she looked at me.

  “Well, I guess Gussy is coming back with me then,” she said, clutching the Jack Russell in her arms.

  Taking their plates, I headed toward the kitchen. “Why don’t you take them out to the kennel and I’ll clean up in here.”

  “I’ll help you. Wyatt can take Mom to see it.”

  I stilled, waiting to see his reaction, but he simply got up from his brown chair and looked at his mom. “It’s this way.”

  I held my breath until I saw them disappear out the door. Swallowing the knot back down in my throat, I washed the food off the mismatched dishes, placing them in the cabinet. Willa packed the refrigerator with the leftovers. “Gross. Does he eat this stuff?”

  “Yes. Unless I bring food. Did he always eat that many hot dogs?”

  She shook her head. “No. Actually our mom cooks all the time. She doesn’t even buy hot dogs and bologna.”

  “If you think that’s gross, the cabinets are only full of Cap’n Crunch. He lives on that stuff.”

  She burst out laughing. “Well, that would be my fault. I got him hooked on that one.”

  “You seriously eat that nasty cereal like him?”

  “Yep. Every morning. And sometimes for dinner on Sundays. I get cranky if I don’t get it. It’s my sugar crack.”

  I made a gagging motion, and she laughed. “Oh, Emma. You are so missing out.”

  We finished and returned to the living room, sitting side by side on the couch. I looked over at Willa, and then my mouth got the best of me. “How are you doing?”

  “You mean with my head stuff?”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry. I only know what he told me.”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m sure Wyatt gave you the Frankenstein version. I’m okay. I still have several episodes a week. I kind of lied about that one the last time I was here.” She laughed faintly.

  “Yeah, I think he figured that out.”

  “True. But the episodes are not as scary as they were in the beginning, like when he was around. Actually, since you asked . . .” She smiled with a grin that was very familiar. I had seen that one on Wyatt a few times when he was teasing me. “I haven’t told anyone this yet because I’m afraid they will freak out.”

  “So I guess the rest of your family is like Wyatt?”

  “Haha. Not usually as intense, but they don’t process news very well. Especially my father. They’re kind of alike, you know. Wyatt and my dad. It’s why they struggled so much.”

  I nodded, hearing something I’d already figured out. “So what is your news?”

  “Well, I found a doctor who thinks he might be able to help me. It’s brain surgery of course, but there’s a real possibility he can stop the episodes.”

  “But?”

  “Ah yes, there’s a catch. There’s risks. Like the big one involved with any type of brain surgery. I could be a vegetable. And the lesser side effect but still a biggy. I could go blind. The area with the problem is close to the place that controls my vision.”

  “But you want to do it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m thinking about it. I mean. I should consider it. I think I should consider all my options. The doctor is in Boston. We have been emailing. And technically, I’m not ruled incompetent or anything. I’m eighteen, so they can’t stop me from jumping on a plane and letting some guy rip my head open. Although my parents will probably try.”

  I laughed at her blatant candor. She didn’t let her condition wear her down. “That’s incredible. It really is. I’m glad that you have options.”

  “And who knows. Maybe I will let this guy cut my brain into mush or maybe I’ll end up doing nothing.” She rested her head back against the couch. “I like you, Emma. You’re easy to talk to. Easy to spill my secrets. I see why he’s drawn to you.”

  “I don’t know if he was exactly drawn to me.” I chuckled under my breath, picturing that very first day I’d arrived at the kennel.

  “Either way, I’m glad you found Wyatt. Because I worry about him.”

  “Me too,” I muttered.

  Her face fell as her thoughts got darker. “Is he okay? I worry sometimes that he might, you know. Do something crazy. And sometimes I get terrified that we will get the call because someone found him like Trevor.”

  Her voice faded out as her eyes watered up over the same guy who haunted Wyatt. I didn’t know what to say to make his sister feel better. I had often felt the same concerns and fears when it came to her brother.

  “He’s better, I think,” I whispered. “He talks to me about some of the stuff. I don’t know what will help with the guilt. That’s something he will have to figure out on his own, I guess.”

  “I know he feels guilty. And Marcus’s dad didn’t make any of this easy. He even tried to get me to testify in court against him. I was a minor so the DA couldn’t force much.” Her eyes drifted off across the room. “It’s my fault, really. If I hadn’t been on the porch with Trevor, none of it would’ve happened. Wyatt got so angry. He was drunk. I was drunk. Trevor was drunk. It was like a match dropped in
gasoline. So I let him take me to the car instead of trying to sort it all out.”

  She stopped talking and a tear rolled down her cheek. I reached over, gripping her hand in mine. Willa looked up at me. She smiled a broken grin. “Like I said, you make a person want to spill all their secrets.”

  My heart ached for the other person who lived with the aftermath of the accident. We talked for a little bit longer until Wyatt and Karen returned. They loaded Gus and the empty picnic basket into the car. Willa grabbed her brother in a quick embrace, and then Wyatt allowed his mom to properly hug him goodbye. She gripped tight to his tall frame while his eyes briefly closed.

  “Maybe we could do this again?” Karen reluctantly released her son, her expression hopeful with the question.

  Wyatt hesitated, and I was afraid he was going to decline the offer. “Okay. What about Thanksgiving?”

  “I think we could do that.”

  He shuffled around, not making eye contact. “And I guess bring Dad and . . . um . . . maybe Grandma and Grandpa.”

  His mom didn’t have any words. The emotions were too much. She just nodded in agreement, jumping in the car before he could change his mind. As we watched his family drive away, Wyatt clutched my hand in his large palm. His nerves were shaking hard, making my whole arm move with him.

  “Thanksgiving?” I whispered.

  “It sort of just slipped out. And I want to take it back.”

  “You can’t really take back an invite, Wyatt.”

  “I know,” he muttered.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  The brisk wind hit me in the back, making me shiver. Yet we didn’t move. Neither of us budged from the spot even after their car disappeared from view.

  Today was a huge step for Wyatt. His emotions were raw and torn from just seeing his family, and then he accidentally invited them back for Thanksgiving. Except, I didn’t think it was an accident. Just like inviting me back here wasn’t an accident. His subconscious had gotten the best of him, spitting out the words he needed to say even when he preferred to keep them silent.

  I let go of his hand and went to my car. His stoic expression stayed in place as I unzipped my backpack. Reaching inside, my hand clasped around the hardback book. I pulled it free and zipped the pack closed, slamming the door behind me.

  “I brought you something.” His troubled eyes held mine for a moment, and I wasn’t sure if he was even going to speak. “I have a new one for you.”

  He shoulders moved as he took a deep breath. “So you are going to make me suffer through another alien love story?”

  “No. This one is vampires.”

  The corner of his lip twitched into an almost smile. “Shitty vampire love stories now.”

  I laughed, knowing he would read any story I brought, even if he acted like it was the worst book in the world. I handed the old hardback over to him. He studied the title and then smirked a sad grin. “I admit. You got me on this one.”

  “Bram Stoker’s Dracula. The original vampire story. You told me once that you wanted to read it. And I didn’t see it on your shelf.”

  “No. I haven’t read it. Thank you.” His gaze held mine.

  “You’re welcome,” I whispered.

  “Maybe I should read it to Gator so he will know there are things with teeth bigger than his.”

  I laughed faintly. “Maybe.”

  He held the book in one hand, keeping his eyes on me. His gaze turned into something deep and needy. I felt the growing heat between us even in the cold November air. The events of the day had taken their toll on Wyatt. He needed something. He needed me.

  Slipping his right hand in mine, Wyatt pulled me slowly to the trailer. As we reached the top of the stairs, he pushed me up against the old aluminum door as he fumbled with the knob until he gave up altogether. His lips found mine. His emotions were wild and on fire, making his kiss rough and almost possessive. My back pressed tightly against the door, and I feared it would crash through into the living room, taking the flimsy wall of the trailer down with it.

  “We should go inside,” I pleaded.

  But Wyatt didn’t answer. He silenced my words by slipping his tongue between my lips. He kissed me like I was the very air keeping him alive, making the achy warmth spread through my legs. Wyatt pushed his hips tighter against my stomach. I was trapped between the hardness of his body and the fragile old door. A loud creak echoed behind me, causing Wyatt to freeze in place.

  “Hold on,” he muttered. He turned the knob. We finally made it through the door without breaking it off the hinges. Dracula got tossed on the coffee table, and I fell on the couch. I pulled my sweater over my head at the same time he struggled to peel the skinny jeans off my legs. My fingers unzipped his pants and he stepped out, dragging his boxers down to the floor with them.

  Wyatt never paused as he climbed on the couch. I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling him press inside of me. And then we were together, bound in a haze of gasps and moans. Wyatt clutched my body, moving faster with every push of his hips.

  “I just don’t feel like I can get close enough to you.” His words came in short breaths against my neck.

  Yet I felt every bit of his closeness. He was inside of me and outside of me. I gasped as he pushed himself deeper and deeper until he pushed me right to the edge. My thoughts blurred as I sought what only Wyatt could give me: a melding of our hearts and bodies and souls. And then I crashed. My eyes closed, letting the world disappear into suspended time. I felt utterly and completely happy. I loved him. And I knew he loved me too.

  Wyatt continued to rock into me, over and over again, and then he stilled, wrapping his fingers into my hair as a low groan escaped his lips. We held onto each other until the silence of the trailer came back into focus. Yet he still didn’t let go, gripping my bare skin tightly beneath him. If it were possible, I think Wyatt would’ve buried himself inside my body and soul forever.

  He eventually pulled the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over our sweaty bodies as we shifted ourselves around into spooning on the scratchy cushions. Wyatt circled his arms around me, snuggling his face up against my hair. His lips briefly kissed my neck.

  We didn’t speak, not even after the darkness enveloped the trailer. I knew Wyatt was awake, processing the emotions of seeing his family today. I let him work through the thoughts in silence. Sometimes he needed a push and sometimes he just needed to hold on to me. I closed my eyes, listening to his soft breaths until he finally rested his lips against my ear.

  “I want to tell you something,” he murmured.

  “Okay.”

  It took a moment before he found the words. “I have nightmares sometimes. The really graphic stuff. It’s all crazy shit that isn’t real. But when I’m asleep, it feels so real.”

  “I know,” I whispered. “I’ve heard you before in your sleep.”

  “I figured, but I don’t have them as often anymore. Not since you. And sometimes I have different dreams. And they mess me up in a different way.”

  “Why?”

  He let out a deep breath that warmed my skin. His fingers trailed over my stomach, making little circles around my belly button. “Because they are about you and me. I see us on the other side of this. I see us in a real house, walking down the street, going to stores and dinner and movies. I see us together, laughing like there’s nothing holding us back. I see us hanging out with your sister. Meeting your parents. Having this normal life. Having a future. And I want it, just as much as I hate it.”

  His words made my heart ache. “You shouldn’t hate it. I want those things too.”

  “I know, but I just can’t stop feeling like I don’t deserve you.”

  “Wyatt.” I tilted my neck around so I could see his face in the shadows. “You can’t think something like that. No one really deserves anyone. People choose to be with other people. I chose you. I chose to have these moments with you. And I chose to make future plans with you.”

  “I kn
ow. But how is that fair? Diana keeps telling me to think about the future. And you make me imagine that future. But then I look at Willa and I think—how is that fair? Her life is a struggle because of me. And I’m making plans with a girl I don’t deserve.”

  I didn’t know how to answer his question without sounding cliché so I just told the truth. “It’s not fair, Wyatt. None of this is fair. But you can’t stay still in life, thinking that will make it fair. You have to keep moving forward.”

  “I don’t know how.” His frustration seeped into the words.

  “You keep trying until you do.”

  He didn’t say anything, but I felt his silent thoughts as his chest moved quickly up and down against my back. I had pushed, and as usual, he just needed time to absorb the words.

  And then his gravelly voice spoke in the quiet darkness of the trailer. “Maybe I’ve looked at this all wrong. Maybe there is a way to live with the guilt.” His voice broke with emotion. “Maybe I can stop people from being me.”

  “How?” I whispered.

  “I don’t know. But if I can stop just one person from being me or even Trevor. Then maybe I will be able to live with myself. Maybe I will be able to move forward and live in the world again. And I can have a life with you. The one I want to give you.”

  A tear fell down my cheek, followed by another. They ran down my face until they dripped onto his hands. “I think that sounds like a good plan.”

  Wyatt brushed the wetness from my cheeks. “Emmy, don’t cry.”

  “It’s okay. They’re good tears.”

  Wyatt kissed my neck, leaving his lips in place as he whispered against my skin. “I love you. Whether I deserve you or not. I love you. Don’t ever forget that.”

  ON THURSDAY NIGHT, ONE WEEK before Thanksgiving, I finally told my parents about Wyatt. I figured if he could let his family back into his life, then mine deserved to know what I’d kept hidden from them all these months.

  After Blaire said she needed her own car, I slipped the news into the conversation. They were stunned. My dad stopped eating his lasagna in mid-bite. My mom gave a teary smile like she understood my need to help Wyatt while silently questioning my sanity. She saw my boyfriend as another of my Emma projects. My dad’s eyebrows narrowed, similar to Blaire’s, as he said, “I remember seeing the story on the news about the kid who burned down that town.”