Unexpectedly Hers (Sterling Canyon Book 3)

by Jamie Beck

  The light on Jim’s camera glowed. Wyatt wouldn’t be pleased that this argument was being filmed. No one would be happy that Ryder’s outburst might have inadvertently hurt some of the kids’ feelings.

  As quietly as possible, she said, “Hey guys, cool down. There are kids around, and Mari.”

  “I don’t care!” Ryder barked. “I’m sick of being part of this production. I don’t want to keep traveling and being t-toted out like an exhibit. A footnote in your story. I just want to choose my own life.”

  “You’re not a footnote.” Wyatt’s crestfallen expression pricked at Emma’s heart. All his yearning to put his brother back together—to put their relationship to rights—blazed in his beautiful eyes. “We’re in this together. You and me, like always.”

  “It can’t be like before. It just can’t. I’m d-done.” The terseness in his voice had fled, leaving room only for exhaustion. “Do what you want, but don’t do any of it for me. I’m not coming to Crested Butte. I’m out.”

  “Just like that.” Electrifying anger gathered like thunderclouds in Wyatt’s eyes. He crossed his arms and arched a brow. “Giving up and going home to Mom?”

  “Only you see quitting this as giving up. I’m changing course. Maybe I’ll get good at pottery and open a studio. Maybe I’ll let someone ghostwrite my story my way. Maybe I’ll stay right here in Sterling Canyon. The p-point is, I have options.”

  Wyatt cut Emma a harsh glance. “You didn’t offer him a job, did you?”

  Before she could answer, Ryder interjected. “Leave Emma out of it. I don’t have a job. I haven’t made any decision beyond the one to quit following you around.”

  “You’re going to bail on me before the first qualifier?” The ache in Wyatt’s voice tied Emma’s stomach into a wad of knots.

  “You don’t need me.” Ryder gestured toward Trip. “Take him if you need a security blanket.”

  “Screw you, Ryder. I don’t need a security blanket. This is about us. This has always been about us. About our family coming out on the other side of everything and being whole again. Don’t you dare throw any other crap in my face now.”

  “Wyatt, the kids!” Emma noticed Andy tugging Jeremy away.

  When Wyatt finally remembered their surroundings, he whirled on Mari. “Stop recording. Stop recording, dammit.”

  Jim looked at Mari, who nodded.

  Wyatt then glared at Ryder. “You know what, you win. I’m sick of worrying about what you’re thinking and how you’re feeling. Trying to make up for what happened. I’m done. You want out, you’re out. Have a nice life. Just tell me where to send the checks.”

  Emma gasped, but Wyatt didn’t seem to notice or care. He tossed his board and helmet to the ground and stormed away from the mountain, the fans, and her. Far from his finest moment, but she’d give him a pass because his pain had broken through the surface and hijacked his good sense.

  “Ryder,” Emma said, but he ambled toward the van without glancing back. She whirled around. “Trip, will you please take Wyatt’s things to the van. I’m going to catch up with him.”

  Before leaving the venue, she strode over to Andy and Jeremy. “Hey, Jeremy. If you give me that T-shirt, I promise I’ll get Wyatt to sign it later.”

  Jeremy reluctantly handed her the shirt. “Why’s he so mad?”

  “Oh, grown up stuff, honey.” She avoided Andy’s gaze. “Tell you what. How about you ask your parents to bring you to the inn tonight around six. Wyatt will be there for dinner, and you can pick up the shirt and meet him then. I promise.”

  “Emma!” Andy said.

  “I promise.” She stared at Andy, even though she had no business making a promise she might not be able to keep. In fact, she went ahead and made another. “And I promise he won’t be angry.”

  She tucked Jeremy’s shirt under her arm and then chased after Wyatt. Fortunately, there weren’t many streets in the small town, so it didn’t take her long to spot him.

  “Wyatt!”

  He glanced over his shoulder, then stopped and waited for her. Red-rimmed, raw-looking eyes stared at her defiantly, as if he expected a lecture. She reached up and set her palm against his cheek while glancing around for someplace more private.

  “Come with me.” She walked ahead one block until they came to the entrance of her small stone church. “There’s a little room in the back where moms take crying babies during Mass. It’ll be empty now, so we can sit and talk.”

  Head bowed, he followed her inside.

  An instant calm settled over Emma in the solemn space. Colorful light poured through stained glass and spilled onto the altar. The scent of incense and the faint echo of their footsteps reminded her of a thousand Sundays spent here with her mom. She’d often come here to think or ask for forgiveness. Today she asked for help with Wyatt. Of course, she didn’t mention that little prayer to him.

  Emma half expected to burst into flame, having brought her illicit lover into this sacred place. Instead, standing there sharing it with him gave a new depth to her feelings, as if merely being here together lent sanctity to their relationship. It reminded her that, aside from the sex, she felt a genuine, loving connection to this man. A man who was helping her come to know herself better. Who’d been encouraging her not to be so ashamed of her needs and desires.

  Of course, she hadn’t quite conquered her fears, but maybe someday.

  As she’d predicted, the baby room was empty. She guided Wyatt there and then promptly wrapped her arms around him. They stood in an awkward, stiff embrace for several moments while Emma waited for him to speak. When his hands slid down to cup her butt, she realized he’d resorted to sex to release his emotions.

  He nuzzled her neck and then kissed her forehead, her nose, and finally her mouth. She recognized his pattern now—his need to control something in order to reset his balance. She surrendered for three, maybe five seconds, but they were in church, and she needed to get him to open up before he returned to the inn and confronted his brother again.

  “Wyatt, stop. Let’s sit and talk.”

  “I don’t want to talk,” he protested, kissing her neck. “Let’s do this instead.”

  “We’re in a church!” She pushed away.

  “I forgot, Saint Emma wouldn’t think of fooling around in church.”

  “Most people wouldn’t.” She flinched at his mockery. “And there’s no need to be cruel. I’m on your side.”

  “Sorry.” He scratched his neck and then pulled her close. “That was an asshole thing to say.”

  He let her go and paced the small room, his expression somber as a judge.

  “Ryder’s outburst shocked you. How can I help?” Emma clasped her hands together, waiting.

  Wyatt studied her. “Don’t act surprised. Ryder’s attitude is exactly what you’ve been claiming he’s been feeling all along.”

  Emma hung her head, quietly replying, “That doesn’t make me happy.”

  But Wyatt hadn’t heard her, probably because he’d gotten absorbed by his own thoughts. At least, that’s how it appeared. His mind wouldn’t let go of what it wanted. Perhaps that ability to focus—to will something into being—is what made him a great athlete, but right now, it wasn’t helping him be a good brother.

  “I don’t know what to do.” Wyatt’s arms stretched heavenward before falling to his sides. “He refuses to cooperate and engage in life again.”

  “He is engaging in life. He’s just no longer interested in snowboarding.”

  “Because he’s afraid or he thinks he can’t be part of it. But look at all those kids today. Many of them are worse off than Ryder, yet they get out there and have fun. Think of all the athletes who overcome disabilities and compete, too. Why can’t he be like them and try instead of sulking and withdrawing? God, his attitude reminds me of our dad, and I hate that.”

  Emma stilled. He didn’t recognize what he’d admitted—how, subconsciously, his attempt to control Ryder had been his way of making up for the things he
hadn’t been able to control as a boy. If she could get him to see that, maybe he could accept Ryder’s decision. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because my dad always gave up. When he got fired, he’d complain about why he couldn’t get a job instead of actually trying to get one. He’d drink and sit around watching TV. Yell at my mom. Blame others. I worked all the time as a kid, and my dad took most of my money to pay bills while he moaned about unfairness. He never took control, never manned up. Now Ryder’s following right in his footsteps and retreating. It’s killing me, ’cause I know that path leads nowhere.”

  When she touched Wyatt’s arm, his tension radiated through her. “I think you’re drawing parallels that don’t exist. After all, Ryder didn’t ask you for money. He doesn’t gripe about his injuries. And he is trying to solve his problems . . . without your help, actually. Give him some time to figure out his new place in the world, adjust to his disability, and learn what he can and can’t handle. I’m sorry he’s hurt you, but quitting your film doesn’t mean that he’s giving up on life, or on you.” She rubbed his back. “It doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you.”

  “If he loved me, why won’t he sacrifice something for me, the way I have for him? Why’s he sabotaging this film?” Wyatt pressed the palms of his hands against his temples. “God, now Mari has this blowup recorded. I’ve totally lost control of the process. Who knows how I’ll look when she’s done.”

  Wyatt squeezed his temples harder and closed his eyes. Sensing some kind of breakdown, Emma wrapped her arms around him.

  “If it helps, I have a T-shirt from one of the young boys who wanted to meet you today. I told him you’d sign it and he could meet you tonight before dinner.” Emma looked into Wyatt’s sad eyes. “Let’s go home so you can shower and relax. I’ll make sure Mari knows to have the cameras rolling when Jeremy shows up. We’ll convince her to use the positive footage instead of your argument with Ryder.”

  “Yeah, right,” Wyatt scoffed. “You’re being naïve if you think Mari will cut the sibling rivalry shots. She wants conflict. Conflict sells. People like to watch tension. Good deeds bore people, as you well know.”

  His last words landed like a slap across her face. He must’ve seen it, because he immediately cupped her jaw. “I didn’t mean that I think you’re boring. I was only referring to when you said other people do. My point is, controversy is more entertaining.”

  “Well, then, maybe the argument should be part of the film. The clash between Ryder’s injuries and your goals is part of your journey.” She gently pushed some of his bangs off his forehead. “Maybe if you realize Ryder isn’t turning into your dad, you can ease up. He just wants to make his own choices, like you. Can’t you understand that?”

  “But I don’t even know if he can hold a regular job yet. He gets headaches from overstimulation. He’ll be broke, living in a hovel, with food stamps and secondhand shoes.”

  “Think you’re overstating a bit?” It dawned on her that Wyatt had more fears than he realized.

  “Here’s some relevant trivia, Emma. Fifteen percent of our country lives in poverty, and you’ve got no idea how quickly that can happen. I’ve lived it, and I never want to go back there. I can’t believe he would, either. That life sucked.”

  Like a quart of milk spilled on the counter, Emma’s thoughts ran everywhere. Of course no one wanted to live in poverty, but lots of people created happy lives from humble places. Sighing, she stepped back. “Not everyone needs what you do to be happy.”

  “Don’t say it like I’m some jerk who needs to be famous. Have you any idea what it’s like to be so poor you’re actually hungry? To never know if the lights will turn on that day, or if you could go to the doctor when you were sick? You’ve never been that vulnerable. Let me tell you, it’s a scary fuckin’ thing, Emma. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, let alone my brother. So don’t downplay my concern like it’s nothing, when your big fear is probably a lot less serious.”

  Well. Yes. Shame and insecurity were less grave than starvation, abuse, and a disabled brother who seemed determined to strike out on his own without a plan for success.

  She’d never understood exactly what had driven her dad to ditch her and her mom in order to chase his dreams, so she’d blamed his ego and lust. In contrast, it seemed Wyatt’s need to succeed came from a deep-seated fear of uncertainty. A sympathetic motive, perhaps, but like her dad, he’d never be content with a normal life. He’d always strive to do more, to be more.

  She’d known this relationship would be brief, but these reminders struck little blows to her heart. And given his current attitude about her and her secret, she certainly wouldn’t spill it now.

  “I don’t want to argue. Maybe you’d prefer to be left alone to work this out for yourself.”

  “No.” He grabbed her, pulling her close. “I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to argue with you, either. Let’s stay here for a few minutes. I’m not ready to face anyone else just yet.”

  Wyatt held Emma close. Gentle, sweet, kind Emma, who let him bark at her to work out his bullshit. She deserved better than him, that much he knew.

  He’d had fun with other women, but he’d never been this honest and exposed. Never trusted someone enough before her. On paper, they didn’t match up, with the age difference and her traditional attitudes. In real life, though, he’d never felt so content.

  He’d miss her when he left town, but he didn’t want to think about that too much. Couldn’t afford to, really. His mission hadn’t changed despite the surprising intensity of his feelings.

  Emma’s face remained plastered to his chest. “Thanksgiving’s around the corner. If you can make peace with Ryder’s decision, it might be nice to fly your mom here for the holiday. If she sees you both moving on and happy, maybe your family can heal.”

  Her optimism surprised him, given her own family dynamic. It’d be awesome to live in a world that worked that simply. As if a good meal and a holiday would magically bring everyone together. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?”

  She looked up and smiled. “My mom is away until December 3. I could go to Kelsey’s sister’s house, but I’d rather spend it with you, unless you’d rather be alone.”

  “Why would I rather be alone than with you? I may be slow, but I’m not stupid.” He kissed her then, because her lips were so close and plump, and he felt safe and secure in her arms. “So I won’t meet your mom?”

  “No. But that’s probably a good thing.” Emma grimaced.

  “She wouldn’t like me?”

  “You’d remind her of my dad, with your good looks and big dreams. It’d scare her, and my mom’s no fun to be around when she’s scared.”

  He noticed her avert her eyes. “Do you think I’m like your dad?”

  “Only in the good ways.” She kissed him lightly, but her playful answer didn’t sit well with him.

  “Seriously, do you think I’m the kind of guy who’d ditch my family for fame and money?” His sense of self suddenly rested on her opinion.

  “I doubt you’d do that.”

  “Of course not.” He squeezed her tight. “Hell, I’m doing it for my family. So my mom has a roof over her head, and so Ryder can get the therapy and other stuff he needs.”

  “I know. You’re a good man, Wyatt.”

  Coming from her, that compliment meant something. If they hadn’t been in the church, he would’ve laid her down on the floor and made love to her right there. “I wish . . .”

  He wished they were someplace else. Some other time, even, when he didn’t need to worry about Ryder, or the qualifiers, or Mari.

  She squeezed him. “What’s your wish?”

  “I wish my life was less complicated.” He eased away. They had to get back to the inn before Mari started spinning new theories about them.

  She looked up, but her gaze drifted off with her thoughts. Finally, she said, “When you mean that, it’ll happen.”

  “Just like that?” Chuckling, Wyatt snapp
ed his fingers.

  “Yes, actually. I’ve never met anyone as goal-oriented as you, so when you choose a quiet life—if you ever do—you’ll have one.” She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.”

  With that remark, she crossed the room, flung open the church doors, and strode straight into the rosy glow of a Colorado sunset. When the warm sun’s rays lit the dim vestibule, he could almost hear a ghostly whisper urging him to follow her into that light.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Ryder!” Wyatt called when he and Emma entered the inn’s lobby.

  Naturally, Mari appeared before his brother, arms crossed, one finger tapping her elbow. “We need to talk.”

  Pressure gathered behind his eyes, but exploding again would only further alienate Mari. Then he’d never persuade her to dump the footage from earlier that afternoon. “I know, but first let me talk to Ryder.”

  “That’s what we need to talk about. Ryder’s role in this film is already publicized. Now he’s threatening to pull out? Meanwhile, you continue to keep me at arm’s length.” Mari pointedly glanced at Emma before returning her attention to Wyatt. That look told him that he probably shouldn’t have been spending so much of his free time hanging out in the kitchen, or at the front desk, or wherever else Emma happened to be. “You’re not letting me do my job. I’m supposed to tell your story, which includes more than how well you can transition from one sport to another.”

  Wyatt sensed Emma’s discomfort almost as strongly as if she’d reached out and touched him. “Excuse me, but I’d better start dinner.” She handed Wyatt the T-shirt. “Don’t forget to autograph this for Jeremy. He’s coming around six o’clock to meet you.” She then smiled at Mari. “Won’t that be a lovely moment for the film, Mari?”

  “Of course,” Mari capitulated, although her eyes stayed locked with his, even as Emma walked away.

  Aw, hell. Weariness robbed him of the will to argue. To his dismay, he chose to beg. “Mari, please don’t include the footage from today’s argument in the film.”