by B. L. Olson
I honestly don't think he will answer me when he sighs and tells me, "My old partner, she was killed on the job. I came upon the scene on my way to work and after witnessing that, it was hard being in Philly. I tried to stick it out for a while, but eventually had to pack it up and get out of there."
Something nudges my intuition, telling me this isn't the full story, but the fact that Wyatt feels he can share with me and did, has me not pushing for more of an explanation. Obviously what had happened had scarred him enough to give up his profession and move his life to the other side of the country.
I am starting to think that maybe Wyatt is even more damaged and broken than I am. And who am I to try and fix that? Fuck if I didn't want to attempt it though. I want to give him a hug and help put him back together, much like Makayla tried to do with me post-Travis.
That's the thing about a shattered heart though, only one person can put the pieces back together and that's yourself. The look Wyatt has on his face screams that he isn't ready to do that just yet and that disappoints me more than I care to admit.
Not wanting to leave the conversation where it's at, I pat him on the arm and give him a reassuring smile that promises that I will not pry further, "Well thank you for answering my questions and letting me learn a little bit more about you." I gesture to my dark house, my mother appearing to give up on my coming home and grilling me, "I should probably head in."
He clambers out of his truck and rounds the front of it before I can process that this conversation is done with, even if I am the one to put an end to it. Wyatt opens my door and helps me down, careful not to let me fall flat on my face like I am prone to do.
He doesn't let me go though. His grip on my arm is tight but not so much that it hurts or becomes uncomfortable. His body is tense and I can feel the war waging in Wyatt currently. I'm not sure why or what I did to make him stare at me like he hates me and wants to eat me up all in one big swoop.
I don't get to contemplate that idea any longer because Wyatt pushes me up against his truck and presses his lips firmly against mine. To say I am in shock would be an understatement, but I have come to learn to not expect him to act in any certain way. In fact, the one thing I know for sure is to not predict how he will behave at all.
At first resistant, I unclench my lips and Wyatt takes advantage of it by slipping his tongue past them and teasing me gently with it. I wrap my hands around his midsection and grip his ass, pulling him closer and telling him that I want more. I need more.
He takes the invitation and grinds himself into me and I can tell that this man isn't just tall, no he is big in a totally different sense. And I want every inch of him inside me as the heat pools to my extremities and warms me up from the inside out. Holy fuck, even Travis never elicited this response from my body, and our relationship lasted four years.
Here we are grinding against each other and making out in the driveway like a couple of teenagers and I lose all sense of anything besides him. His tongue stroking my mouth and nipping my bottom lip, his arms wrapping around me and pulling me even closer. Wyatt has kept me at arm's length for so long that I wish I knew sooner that my kisses would be his undoing. The one thing to get him to shut off his brain for a little bit and just be.
It is as I am considering pushing for more, after all, it has been a while and a girl has needs, that Wyatt pushes me away. Chest heaving and looking at me like I killed his puppy or something, he storms off towards his house.
Good to know that some things really haven't changed. He is still able to give me whiplash in seconds flat and just freaking left me standing here, panting and wanting more. My clit is throbbing and screaming at Wyatt the whole time as he retreats into his house and slams his front door.
That man is going to be the death of my vagina at this rate.
Chapter 13- Wyatt
Repercussion #294: When you go into a non-date trying to feel someone out, it is best to probably not feel them up instead. It sends an entirely different sort of message that you may regret getting yourself into.
There was a cause and effect for what occurred last night. The effect Annie had on me, and the overwhelming emotion I was feeling after admitting the short version of what happened to me, caused me to kiss her. That was the only explanation I could think of by the next morning.
Nevermind the fact that despite her apparent need to figure me out, she didn't pry or push for more information and that courtesy is something I am not accustomed to receiving from people in my life. It was easier than I thought it would be to mention what had happened in Philly, not having to speak a word of it to anyone because everyone around already knows. My old friends, my old life. They are as gone to me as she is.
Brielle.
I didn't touch on the worst parts of that day with Annie, not even close. I'm not ready for that, hell I don't know if I ever will be. Every morning I wake up with this crushing guilt and a weight on my chest telling me that it should have been me in that accident in her place.
Maybe by not talking about what happened, burying the pain and sadness down so deep, has not been the best way to cope with the tragedy I witnessed and subsequent suffering I'm enduring. Is it such a bad thing that the siren Annie is weaving her song and luring me from the depths of self-loathing and despair? Or made some progress at the very least?
Here is this fucking life force, this storm of a woman, pushing me to open myself up without really prying at all. I woke up this morning feeling better for it, my mind suddenly clear for the first time in a long time after my confession to the woman who lived next door.
I put my life on hold after what happened in Philly. I pushed away the new friends I made in the academy and at the precinct and shut out the people from my family who dared to tell me that I needed to grieve properly and move on.
At first I didn't think they had any sort of right to tell me how to process my grief, and still, they really don't. But fuck if they aren't right about me doing it in a healthy way. I know deep down that uprooting my life and moving closer to my family was the best option, and I don't doubt that decision one bit. What I do regret, however, is that I allowed myself to become the person who shuts themselves up tight and pushes away anyone who dares to come close or bothers to tell him when he is being a complete ass.
What I did to Annie last night, kissing her and pushing her away angrily is the best and most recent example of that fact. She doesn't deserve all these mixed messages I keep sending her. Hell if last night's kiss wasn't a definite game changer and a slap upside the head all rolled into one. I can no longer ignore what I feel, and not push her for more because I need to once again experience the raw passion that ignited the moment I kissed her.
I'm beginning to realize that just because I mourn for one woman, doesn't mean I can't be with another. I lost two of the most important women in my life, my mom and my partner in every sense of the word. I thought I was doing what was best to keep my already splintered heart from stopping altogether. But I know in my soul that neither of them would want me to waste each day this hollow man I have become and just going through the motions of a mundane life.
They would want me to live and be free of the shackles of guilt and shame. Work on rebuilding myself now that I have rebuilt the rest of my life. I have the new job, a new house, and a fresh start. And the next image, nay freaking goal, that I can't get out of my mind is a certain honey haired mess of a woman that lives next door.
The first step though? Groveling. Lots of groveling.
****
Who knew that the place to be during a summer break isn't the lake just down the street, but the tiny ass library that I now find myself weaving through? By my count, there are too many kids and not enough parents for my taste. No wonder Annie complains about demon spawn and finds herself wandering to the bar next door after a rough day. Despite the degree she must hold to have her position, it appears to me like she is also part town babysitter.
"What are you doing here?" I
hear from behind me and whirl around to find just the woman I came here to see. Or rather, apologize to profusely for my behavior last night.
I awkwardly shuffle from foot to foot and give her a contrite smile, "I believe I owe you an apology."
She rolls her eyes and turns to move past me, but my arm wraps around her waist and I pull her close before she can lose me in the zoo of a library. She squirms against me for a moment, only to realize that with her back to my front, escape by wiggling probably isn't her best bet.
Unless she wants to get me arrested for getting a boner in a building full of children. Y'know, be that perv.
Luckily, or maybe unluckily, she looks more stabby than on pervert patrol at the moment, so I choose my next words with caution, "I know I have been an ass and pushing you for more and shoving you away all at the same time. And I truly am sorry for it." I can feel her body release the tension slowly and know it is safe to let her go without escape again.
She gives me a resigned look and glances around at the chaos around her before turning to me once more, "Maybe we should stop pushing altogether then. Call quits on whatever this is before the whiplash you keep giving me causes permanent damage."
"I don't want to call it quits." I sigh in exasperation and throw my hands in the air in defeat, "I tried and tried to forget about it. I'm still dealing with the fallout from what happened to my partner, but I also know that this attraction we feel, hell the chemistry that you and I have, that doesn't come along very often. And I'll be damned if I am not going to annoy you with my persistence until you agree with me."
She jams a finger in my chest and tries to get into my face. All five something feet of her, "You don't get to make that call. You're so freaking confusing Gunslinger! I already dealt with one man who didn't know what he wanted and I don't need to dick around with another."
My heart beats murderously in my chest, it's out for blood now, and my eyes narrow at what she just fucking said to me. Is she seriously comparing me to her twat of an ex-boyfriend? Before she can react, I pull her to me and crush my lips to hers. If she wants to contrast the two of us, then I will show her just how unlike that man-boy I am.
I wrap her long wavy hair in one hand and use it to guide her head to just the right angle for our different heights. My other hand grips her waist and pulls her flush against my body, invading her personal space in all the best ways.
Instead of pushing me away though, Annie moans into my mouth, letting me know that maybe I don't have quite as much groveling and annoying to do than I thought. Knowing she is just as affected by this kiss, hell turned on by it even, I know I have her.
I pull away before I lose all sense of self and someone else on pervert patrol calls the authorities on us. I push Annie gently from me and look around to make sure none of the parents are going to start a lynch mob for indecency in the library. Satisfied that we are seemingly being ignored, I turn back to her and give her a wicked grin, "I know exactly what I want Annie, and I think we both know that kiss was better than anything you shared with Travis." Her eyes narrow at me but her flushed skin tells me she is just as affected as I am, "What time should I pick you up for our date tonight?"
Her swollen lips gape open in shock, clearly being mad at me long forgotten, "I'm sorry, I think my brain just shut off. What did you just say?"
I pull her close again, I am becoming addicted to every touch and gaze from this woman, and lean down to whisper in her ear, "We are going on a date tonight, Stormy. A real one. What time do you get off?" More squirming from her, "From work Annie. What time do you get off of work? Get your mind out of the gutter."
She laughs and pushes me away, "What makes you think I don't already have plans?"
I shoot her with a knowing look but choose to wisely say nothing.
She rolls her eyes and gives me a cute grin, "I get off no later than ten. I get off work though at seven." She turns and sashays away from me and disappears behind the circulation desk.
This spitfire is the opposite of Brielle in every single way. And it is entirely what I both need and crave at this very moment.
Hell hath fury if anyone tries to keep me away now.
Chapter 14- Annie
Repercussion #835: Sometimes inviting other people to attend your date so that you act less awkward could mean you overcompensate and turn into the next up and coming rodeo clown.
The moment I walk away from Wyatt, I realize I had one of those mouth to brain disconnects that seem to happen only when his overwhelming presence is around. After four years of not getting any other than from Harry, it is clear that my body, more specifically my brain, has had enough and is making all the moves. First, there was my drunken octopus arm comment, the memory hitting me as I was throwing up stomach acid and coffee in the bushes, and now this.
Houston, we have a problem. Vaginas are teaming up with the big man upstairs to get what they want now. And what mine wants? Well, Wyatt of course.
I indeed woke up miffed this morning, the only thought rolling round in my mind was that he is pulling some of the same crap Travis had. Never really certain of me, of us, despite the steps forward he would make with me in our relationship. Wyatt is constantly doing the same thing, but at least he recognizes the effect he has on me. Not only did he apologize, and seem sincere in the act, but he wants to make it up to me and push onwards.
This proved to me right there in the bustling chaos of the little library, that Wyatt is a far superior man than Travis. A man that I now have a date with tonight. I glance down at the outfit I wore to work, and let out a groan that I kind of just rolled out of bed after not much sleep and threw on whatever was clean. Steeling myself to get through the rest of my shift, I head to the return bin to check off the next thing in my daily checklist.
****
When I lock up the library for the evening and meet Wyatt out front, I don't expect two other people to be chatting with him looking ready for an adventure as well. Those two people, of course, being my best friends who are suppose to be running the bar next door.
Approaching the trio with caution, not really sure what the heck is going on at all, they all turn to grin at me at once. Yup, that's not creepy at all.
Shuffling my feet and glancing shyly at Wyatt, I decide to address my best friend about what conniving planning they have been up to while I worked. After all, Makayla tends to tell it like it is which is simultaneously both a blessing and a curse depending on the situation.
Giving her as no-nonsense a look as I can muster given the fact I am about to go on a date with the man I can't shake from my mind, I ask, "So why does it look like you three have been plotting my kidnapping or something?"
Makayla gives me a grin and looks toward Wyatt to let him explain, "I ran into Makayla when I was leaving earlier and asked her if they wanted to join. I figured having someone around that you're comfortable with will make you less awkward."
I roll my eyes at him and cross my arms across my chest, "I'm surprised you haven't learned by now that I am always awkward."
My best friends guffaw, but really they know that I am telling the truth. It might as well be my middle name. Or rather my title that is used for all formal introductions, the Ever Awkward Annie Taylor Ellis.
I wear it with pride. At least most days.
Makayla flings her arm around my shoulder and starts walking me along the sidewalk, the men following behind with a cooler between them and Wyatt with a backpack slung on one of his broad shoulders. My friend begins to explain, "We are heading just up the road to Mt. Pilchuck Elementary."
Glancing over my shoulder at Wyatt, who gives me a small grin, I turn back and look at her like she is crazy, "I'm sorry, is there a reason we are going to our old school? I think we are a little big for the jungle gym and play castle."
She snorts and shakes her head, letting her arm drop from my shoulder, "You forget what they designed in the woods behind the building after we graduated to middle school."
W
racking my brain for what on earth she could be talking about, it dawns on me that we must be going to play disc golf. They had built the course in the expanse of trees between the school and neighboring houses and it is a popular destination in our small town considering there is absolutely nothing to do here.
I have never actually played, and I know for sure that I will be feeling all sorts of awkward as I attempt something sporty despite my lack of athleticism. Cool, this will be fun. Sense my sarcasm? (That, I have in spades.)
Seeming to read my thoughts Makayla reassures me, "I knew you would be uncertain of something you have never done before and on your first date since DoucheGate, so I suggested that Jake and I tag along. Plus Wyatt is new to town, and I think those two could have an epic bromance if we just push them together enough."
I laugh at my best friend who always knows what to say to put me at ease, "Well thank you for doing so. You know me and my athletic ability. Throw in the word date and I would be all sorts of hot mess I'm sure."
As we climb the small hill and approach the school, I am filled with the usual nostalgic memories of the time I spent there. The day I met Makayla by far the best one of all. I seriously didn't know what I would do without her.
As we head to the back of the building where the course is set up, I am happy to see that it doesn't appear to be too busy at the moment. Which means fewer people around to witness what is sure to be an epic failure on my part. The guys drop the cooler on a picnic table nearby and immediately start digging through it. Clearly, they have priorities, and number one is alcohol if what I can see from a short distance away is any indication.
Wyatt grabs what looks like a bottle of lemonade and gestures for me to grab it. I give him a confused look before he tells me, "It's really long island iced tea."
Be still my heart. He may have drug me out to attempt something athletic, but at least I won't be without the liquid courage to help me not care that I am about to make myself look like a complete and utter idiot.