Stay With Me ~ Kristen Proby

by Kristen Proby

  “Oh, I saw Jace.”

  “I heard.”

  She glances up at me and frowns. “Why do you say it like that?”

  I sigh, drag my hand down my face and shake my head. “No reason.”

  “Oh, no. There’s a reason.” She shifts, sitting next to me cross-legged. “It’s written all over your ridiculously handsome face. What’s up? We just had dinner.”

  I lick my lips, trying to figure out how to say what I have to say without sounding like a dick or a petulant child. “You were supposed to have dinner with me.”

  “But I didn’t stand you up. I texted to let you know that I wasn’t going to make it.”

  “So you could have dinner with my brother instead.”

  She tilts her head to the side and narrows her eyes. “Seriously? You’re jealous of your brother?”

  “I’m not jealous,” I reply and stand to pace. “And this might be a good time to remind you that you were jealous of your sister the first time I met her.”

  “Nothing happened,” she says.

  “I know that,” I immediately reply. “I trust you. Both of you.”

  “Then what is this about?” She looks as confused as I feel.

  I shake my head and hold my hands out at my side. “It’s clearly nothing.”

  “No.” She stands now and marches to me. “You’re the one who said we need to talk to each other so we don’t let our baggage fuck this up. It works both ways, Wyatt. If I’ve pissed you off, I need to know why.”

  “That’s just it, it’s baggage. You shouldn’t have to deal with it.”

  “But you don’t like that I had dinner with your brother.”

  “No. I don’t like it.”

  “So, let me be real with you right now. The fact that you don’t like it triggers my own damn baggage. So your baggage is going to keep triggering my baggage, and we’ll stay in this circle of frustration forever. And I can’t do that, Wyatt. So what do you propose we do?”

  “I don’t know how long I have with you,” I blurt out and shove my hands into my pockets again. I want to reach for her, but not yet. I need to say this. “And the not knowing sucks, Amelia. We were supposed to have dinner last night, and you canceled so you could spend the evening with my brother instead.”

  “So, you don’t think we did anything inappropriate, you just don’t like that I used my time that way.”

  “Correct.”

  “And that pisses me off because my ex liked to dictate who I could and couldn’t spend my time with.”

  “That’s not what this is.” I pace away in frustration and push my hands through my hair. “I don’t care if you have dinner with the whole cast of Friends and Oprah, Lia.”

  “I would enjoy that, actually.”

  “Spend all day with my whole family if you want, but damn it, I want to be included in that.”

  “Your feelings are hurt,” she says and covers her mouth with her hand, her blue eyes wide.

  I sigh again and hang my head. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but that could be what this is. I don’t know.”

  “Wyatt, I don’t ever want to hurt your feelings.”

  “Hey, guys!” Natalie walks into the pool area, carrying her camera, followed by two guys. They’re holding hands, grinning.

  Clearly about to have sexy photos taken.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Nat continues. “I’ll be working in the studio for a few hours.”

  “It’s fine,” I reply and walk toward the doors. “I honestly have to get back to work.”

  “Wyatt, I’ll come with you and we—”

  “No.” I shake my head. “It’s okay. I’m behind on work and just took a break to come see you for a few minutes.”

  “I don’t want to leave it like this,” Amelia says softly after Nat and the men disappear into the studio. “I’ll come with you, and we can talk.”

  “I think I need a breather,” I reply, and her eyes widen again.

  “Like, a forever breather?”

  “No.” I pull her to me and hug her close. “A for today breather. I have work, Amelia. I promise I’m not lying about that. I have a Monday deadline that I’m behind on. And I know that I’ve been keeping you away from work, too.”

  “I have some work to do,” she confirms. “But I hate letting you leave like this. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “I know.” I kiss her forehead and then her lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  She nods and lets me go.

  Jesus, it’s been a long fucking day.

  Productive, but long.

  My back aches from sitting for too many hours in this godforsaken chair, and my head hurts from staring at the computer. I’ve been on the phone more than I like today, and didn’t eat anything to speak of. Unless coffee is considered a meal, in which case, I had about six of them.

  But, I’m fully caught up, and even ahead for the week to come. It feels good. I turn the computer off and rub my eyes. I’m exhausted. Sleeping for a week sounds like a great idea.

  But first, a shower.

  I grab my phone and notice that I’ve missed a text from Amelia. I’ve been so engrossed in work, I didn’t even hear it.

  Hey. I’ve been thinking about you a lot today. I feel bad about the way we left things. Please tell me that you know that I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.

  I smile and type out a reply. I know you didn’t mean to. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I promise.

  I leave the office and head upstairs to my bedroom. My feet feel heavy. My phone pings with an immediate response from Amelia.

  I was hoping we could discuss it tonight, but it’s late, and I’m already in bed.

  I quickly peel off my clothes, start the water, and reply to her.

  I’m exhausted, sweetheart. We should both get some rest and talk tomorrow when our heads are clear.

  I reach for a clean towel, hang it on the rack, and just as I’m about to step under the water, she replies.

  Goodnight. She follows it up with a sleepy emoji, and my heart swells. Part of me wants to say screw it and run over to hold her and talk everything out with her tonight. But I’m so fucking tired, I can barely keep my eyes open, and exhaustion wins.

  The shower is a balm to my sore body. I’m not this tight and sore after working out with Jace for an hour, and that man is an animal. No more getting so behind on work that I have to do this again.

  After I shut off the taps and dry myself, I pull on a T-shirt and pair of gym shorts, then head downstairs for a bottle of water. I notice my office light is still on, so I swing through to shut it off.

  Before I turn to leave, I notice a flash above Amelia’s house. Expecting it to be lightning, I walk to the windows, looking closer. There’s nothing for a long moment, and I begin to think that it was just a figment of my tired brain, but then it happens again.

  Except, that’s not lightning.

  It’s fire.

  Amelia’s house is on fucking fire.

  My heart slams into my throat as I run out of the house, desperate to get to her. I pound on the door, but she doesn’t open it. She’s not outside. The smell of fire and falling ash hangs around me.

  She must be asleep.

  “Wake up, baby.” I bang on the door again, pounding with the flat of my fist, but she still doesn’t come outside. I look in the front windows, but the house is dark.

  I have to get in there. I told her we would talk tomorrow, and what if tomorrow is too late? What if I don’t get the chance to tell her that I love her?

  What in the hell have I done?

  I race back to my own garage, calling 911 on my way. I need shoes.

  “911, what’s your emergency?”

  “A house fire,” I reply, panting heavily. I rattle off the address. “I can’t see where it’s coming from, but the flames are coming over the house. And my girlfriend is still inside.”

  “She’s in the house, sir?”

  “Yes.” My heart is in
my throat as I reach for a sledgehammer and shove my feet into my yard-working shoes. “She’s not opening the door. I’m going to bust the window in to get to her.”

  “Sir, do not enter the house. Help is on the way. I need you to stay away from the building.”

  I hang up on her. Fuck that. I won’t stay away from the house. The woman I love more than anything is in there, and it’s on fucking fire.

  I run back over and bust the front window open easily. I can hear sirens in the distance as I climb over the glass.

  “Amelia!”

  There’s no smoke inside the house, which fills me with relief. Now, where the hell is she?

  ~Amelia~

  I sit up in bed with a start. I swear someone just broke a window.

  Someone is breaking into this house!

  “Amelia!”

  It’s Wyatt. I throw on a T-shirt and shorts and meet him at the top of the dark stairs.

  “Wyatt? What’s wrong? Did you break the window?”

  “Are you okay?” He cups my face. His eyes are wild in the moonlight, and suddenly, I realize there’s light dancing on the walls.

  “Of course. What’s going on?”

  “The house is on fire. Come on, we need to go.”

  “I need to grab my purse.”

  “Lia.” He stares at me like really? but I just run back to the bedroom, grab my purse, and before I can slide my feet into flip-flops, he slings me over his shoulder and carries me down the stairs and out the front door.

  He sets me down, and I immediately run around the house, Wyatt on my heels.

  “Stop, Amelia. I called 911.”

  “I hear them.” And I can smell the fire. I need to know where it is. Have I just burned Natalie’s house down? I round the corner of the house to find Natalie’s studio ablaze and reach out blindly for Wyatt. “Holy fuck.”

  “I don’t want you back here,” he says, pulling me toward the street. “It’s dangerous. Come on, baby.”

  “The studio is on fire.” I’m not moving, and Wyatt takes my face in his hands again, making me face him.

  “Look at me, goddamn it! You’re not safe here. Let’s go.”

  I blindly follow him back to the street where fire trucks and an ambulance have pulled up, and the next three minutes are a blur of men running with hoses to the back of the house, and Wyatt and me watching from the safety of his driveway.

  “Let’s go inside.”

  “No,” I reply, shaking my head, my feet hurting a bit from the rocks on the driveway. “I need to call Nat. And I need to make sure that I haven’t burned her house down.”

  “You didn’t do anything,” he murmurs. His hands are rubbing up and down my arms soothingly. His voice is strong and reassuring.

  God, I love this man. It’s torn me apart all day that I could have hurt his feelings last night.

  But I have to table that for later.

  The guy who seems to be in charge jogs over to us.

  “Do you live here?” he asks.

  “I do, but I’m not the homeowner. I’m about to call her. What’s happened?”

  He scratches his cheek and props his hands on his hips. “It started in the guest house out back. We have it out now, but we’re going to keep working on it in case it’s burning below ground.”

  “Do you know how it started?” Wyatt asks.

  “Not yet,” he replies. “We’ll be here for a while.”

  “I’ll call Natalie,” I say as the fireman walks away. I dial her number and squeeze my eyes shut. She might not be awake.

  “Hello,” she says on the second ring. She sounds wide-awake.

  “Hey, Nat, it’s Lia. I don’t want to freak you out, but there’s been a fire here at the house.”

  “Oh my God, Lia, are you okay?” There’s rustling around, and I hear Luke talking in the background. “There’s been a fire,” she says to him.

  “I’m fine. It wasn’t in the house, it was out back in the studio.”

  “Well, thank God for that,” she says. “Luke’s calling his mom to come be with the kids, and I’m getting dressed. We’ll be there soon.”

  “I’m so sorry, Nat.”

  “For what? You’re not an arsonist. Accidents happen, I’m just so relieved that you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine. I’ll see you soon.”

  She ends the call, and I spin to wrap my arms around Wyatt, suddenly exhausted and relieved at once.

  “Hey, you’re okay, sweetheart.”

  “I know, I just feel so bad that it happened when I was here. They’re on their way.”

  “Good. Now, look at me.”

  I do as he asks, and there’s so much intensity looking down at me, I don’t know what to say.

  “That scared the life out of me.” His voice is gruff. “Amelia, I’m so in love with you, I can’t see straight. If I’d lost you tonight, I don’t know what I would have done. The thought of it is a punch in the gut.”

  “I’m okay,” I assure him and cup his face in my hands. “I’m right here, and I’m safe.”

  “I saw those flames over the house, and I swear, I’ve never been so terrified. I couldn’t get to you fast enough, and then you weren’t answering the door.”

  “I took a sleeping pill,” I admit and bite my lip. “I knew I wouldn’t sleep well because I was upset about our argument, so I took something. I didn’t hear anything until you broke the window.”

  “If I hadn’t seen it, it could have spread to the house,” he says, his eyes closing in anguish. “I almost didn’t come downstairs, Amelia. Jesus.”

  “But you did, and I’m fine, and the fire is out. It’s out, Wyatt.” I rub my thumbs over his cheeks. “Thank you for coming after me.”

  He jerks me against him, holding me closely and rocking us back and forth as organized chaos continues across the street. They’re yelling orders, running about. But all I can concentrate on is this amazing man who’s holding me as if I’m the most precious thing in his life.

  He loves me.

  I’m about to start talking about today and tell him that I love him, too, when Nat and Luke pull into Wyatt’s driveway.

  “Hey, guys,” I say and suddenly find myself engulfed in a massive Nat hug.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks.

  “Mmph fnnn.”

  She pulls back. “What?”

  “I’m fine. But your studio isn’t.” I look around for the fireman who spoke with us earlier and point at him. “That’s the guy in charge.”

  “I’m going to go have a talk with him,” Luke says. His hair is standing on end, and he looks tired.

  And hot. Luke always looks hot.

  Because he’s Luke Williams.

  “I’ll come with you.” Nat squeezes my hand and then follows Luke to speak with the fireman. A few minutes later, they return. “He says that the main house is safe, but he’d like for us to stay out of it for tonight. But the studio is a loss.”

  “Oh, Nat, that sucks. I’m sorry.”

  She shrugs. “I can replace it all, Lia. But we can’t replace you, so I’m relieved that you’re okay.”

  “Wyatt saw the flames,” I inform them and fill them in on how he broke the window to get to me.

  Speaking of hot.

  “I’ll replace the window,” Wyatt says, but Luke shakes his head.

  “No, you won’t. I would have done the same. Your leg is bleeding.”

  We all look down, and sure enough, he’s cut and bleeding down into his shoe.

  “I hadn’t noticed,” Wyatt says with a shrug. “Adrenaline.”

  “We have to get you stitched up,” I reply, only to have him chuckle.

  “I don’t need stitches.”

  “Well, now that we know what’s going on, we’re going to head home and come back in the morning,” Natalie says and hugs me again. Luke does the same, and I pat his back awkwardly, the way I always do when Luke hugs me.

  Because he intimidates the hell out of me.


  He gives me a smile, shakes Wyatt’s hand, and they’re off.

  “Let’s go in now,” Wyatt says, taking my hand in his and pressing his lips to my knuckles. His eyes have calmed down, and he’s gazing at me with love-filled hazel orbs.

  The man might have hung the moon as far as I’m concerned.

  “First stop is wherever you keep your first-aid kit, Captain America,” I say as we walk inside.

  “Captain America?”

  “You’re clearly an action movie star,” I reply and smile when he smirks. “You legit broke a huge window and jumped through it, with your big muscles.”

  “It was pure adrenaline and needing to get to you,” he says.

  “Action movie star,” I repeat with a nod. “Now, let this damsel in distress clean you up.”

  “You’re not a damsel, but I’ll let you clean me up.” He leads me into the guest bedroom on the first floor, pulls a little box out of the lower cabinet, and passes it to me. “Here you go.”

  “This is all you have?” I stare at the little box in disbelief. “I’ll be lucky to get a Band-Aid out of this.”

  “We’re not doing major surgery here,” he reminds me. “It’s already done bleeding; we just have to clean it up.”

  “Okay.” I start the water to heat it up, then rummage around for a washcloth. “Sit on the tub.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He does as I ask, and pulls his shoes off, then props his foot on the vanity and watches as I get my tools lined up. “Jace would be proud of your professionalism.”

  I swallow and wet the washcloth, then start at his ankle, cleaning the blood off. “Speaking of Jace,” I murmur, not looking him in the eyes. Not yet. “Let’s multi-task, shall we?”

  “If you like.”

  “So, now that we’ve both had time to take a step back and let the frustration cool off, I have a couple of things to say.”

  “Shoot,” he says, then hisses through his teeth when I wipe off the cut on his calf.

  “Sorry.” I wrinkle my nose. “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the ER?”

  “I’m not going to the ER for a cut on my leg,” he replies, his voice as dry as sand. “You’re doing great.”

  “Okay. Anyway. I want to apologize again because the thought of hurting your feelings, ever, makes my stomach sick. I would never do that on purpose.”