A Family for Tyler

by Angel Smits

  The fact that Earl still interfered with her life ticked her off. Most of her anger was aimed at him. It always had been, but the red haze creeping in didn’t care who she was angry at. It just fed off the emotion.

  Wyatt leaned in closer, and while he didn’t touch her, the warmth of his body reached out and teased her. “Emily, I don’t care how you handle your life. Drew’s a bully, and no one, I repeat, no one gets away with being a bully in front of me. I won’t just stand by and watch.”

  She spun around and stared at him, remembering similar words in his explanation to Tyler about what it meant to be one of the Hawkins men. At that time, she’d appreciated his words, appreciated the sentiment of taking care of what was his. It had warmed her.

  Now it scared the hell out of her—but why? She backed away from Wyatt, knowing that by doing so, she denied her place in his world.

  Emily headed for the door. Angrily, she looked up at him, ready to tell him to get the hell out of her way. His glare met hers and that was when it hit her. She was afraid of Wyatt’s caring because she wanted it so much.

  He looked at her, an eyebrow arched in doubt. She flung the door open and tilted her head for him to leave.

  He stopped just inches away. “I’m not chasing you anymore, Emily,” he said softly, but she heard the banked anger in his voice. With that, he stepped outside and she heard his boots on the pavement.

  Emily didn’t know how long she stood there staring at the closed door. Well, she wasn’t chasing him, either. She’d find her own dinner, damn it. She was halfway across the parking garage before her temper cooled and her brain kicked into gear.

  He was right.

  She was doing exactly what he kept accusing her of, and what she kept telling him she wasn’t doing. She was running away.

  Hadn’t she just spent the past five days convincing herself she was finished with running? Last weekend, she’d bared her soul to him, shared details of her life that she’d never told anyone. She’d let him touch, taste and see every inch of her.

  She’d already let him in, already trusted him.

  And what had he done?

  He’d comforted her. He’d taken her up to his bed—to sleep. He’d tried to protect her from her memories, and today, from Drew.

  Dianne was right. She was an idiot, but she was also smart enough to admit her mistakes.

  Angry with herself, she flung her purse and jacket into the passenger seat.

  Two red lights later she stopped and stared. Her eyes burned and an ache grew in the center of her chest. Why did she keep screwing things up? It was a simple dinner invitation interrupted by an idiot named Drew. It wasn’t Wyatt’s fault. And yet she’d made it his.

  And dang it, he’d taken it. He’d let her take her frustrations out on him and he just absorbed it. The red light turned green but it didn’t register that she had to move until the SUV behind her laid on its horn. Shaking her head, Emily shot through the intersection, pulling a U-turn at the next block.

  * * *

  IT WAS LATE. Too late for dinner, Emily figured. The ranch house was quiet and for a minute, she wondered if anyone was home. The lone light in the living room wasn’t much evidence.

  But the big black truck in the yard told her all she needed to know.

  She approached the veranda slowly, her mind spinning with all the things she needed to say.

  The lamplight spilled out onto the porch where Wyatt stood, a cup of coffee in his hand. Lord, he looked good. The light T-shirt he wore clung to all the muscles of his shoulders and arms. His jeans were worn nearly white in places and fit tight across his powerful thighs.

  Heat pooled low in Emily’s belly and her breasts ached at the memory of how good he felt and tasted.

  “Wyatt?” Her voice trembled, though she tried to control it. She sounded afraid, but fear wasn’t the emotion racing through her right now.

  He turned and faced her, leaning against the support post at the top of the steps. He set the cup down, crossing his arms over his chest. If it weren’t for the movement of his throat as he swallowed, and the heat in his eyes, she might think he was immune to her.

  “I screwed up, didn’t I?” she asked.

  Silence settled over the yard, but she never broke eye contact with him. She took a few steps toward him, tilting her head back to look up at him.

  He suddenly laughed, the sound rich and warm. “I’m not falling into the trap of answering that loaded question.” He took a step down, closer to her. His gaze slowly moved up, then down over her.

  He came down the remaining steps. “I like your red nail polish, Emily,” he whispered.

  She fought back the smile. He’d noticed. “I came out here to apologize.”

  “Uh-huh.” Carefully, Wyatt reached out and pushed a wayward curl from her forehead. “I like the jeans, too.”

  This time her smile refused to hide.

  “But you know what I like best?” He stood just inches away and the sincerity in his voice surprised her. She simply shook her head, not trusting her voice to work.

  “Your backbone.” Wyatt slid an arm around her, his fingers gliding sensually along her spine. “You’re sexy as hell when you’re pissed.”

  “I...gather that dinner invitation has expired,” she whispered. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled.

  He laughed again. “I’m thinking we can figure something out.”

  “Good. ’Cause Dianne made me swear I’d have dinner with you.”

  “I knew I liked that woman.” Wyatt’s kiss obliterated any remaining coherent thoughts she might have had.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “YUM.” EMILY SIGHED, the last of the peanut-butter sandwich Wyatt had made her disappearing into her mouth. She smiled at him as he sat beside her on the porch swing. He’d refilled his coffee cup while they’d been inside. Now he set the empty mug aside.

  “I’m glad you came out here tonight.”

  She turned to him, setting the swing in motion back and forth, the slight breeze stirring her hair. “Me, too.”

  Their eyes met. Wyatt reached up, and she leaned into the palm of his rough hand. She let her eyes drift closed, anticipating his kiss.

  A loud crash interrupted what would have come next.

  “What the hell was that?” Wyatt shot to his feet and threw open the screen door.

  She followed him but by the time she reached the living room, he was out of sight. She heard Wyatt’s voice, soft, muffled, in the kitchen. Then a pained little voice tore at her heart. She ran toward the kitchen.

  “Stop!” Wyatt commanded when she reached the doorway to the kitchen.

  She stared at the scene before her. Wyatt had picked up Tyler and set him on the counter. Bright red blood soaked through the dish towel Wyatt had wrapped around Tyler’s hand. “He dropped a glass. It’s everywhere,” he explained, never taking his focus off the boy.

  Tyler cried and squirmed. “I’m sorry,” he whined.

  “Can you get the first-aid kit from the bathroom?” Wyatt asked over his shoulder, then turned back to Tyler. “It’s okay, buddy.”

  “I’m sorry.” Tyler sobbed now.

  Emily hurried up to the bathroom and found the white box with the red cross on it.

  She nearly stopped dead in her tracks when she returned to the kitchen. Tyler’s head was buried against Wyatt’s shoulder, his little body trembling as he cried. A trail of red blood slid down Wyatt’s arm from where Tyler held on to him.

  Wyatt looked over the boy’s head at her and the helplessness in his eyes surprised her.

  “Here, let’s get you fixed up.” She broke out of her shock and reached for Tyler’s little hand and turned it over. The cut was deep, and even in the dim kitchen light, she could tell there was still a piece of glass inside. �
�I think he might need stitches.”

  “No!” Tyler screamed and kicked his feet, trying to get down and away.

  Quieting Tyler took way too long, but finally they had him settled in the cab of the truck. Once they hit the road to the emergency room, Wyatt practically flew down the highway, his truck eating up the road with its big tires and monstrous engine.

  To Emily, it still didn’t seem fast enough. Tyler’s sobs had settled down to hiccuping breaths. He leaned against Emily as she tried to apply pressure to his still-bleeding hand without hurting him more. The butterfly bandages, the cotton gauze and the towel helped a little.

  In the glow of the green dash lights, she saw the tightness of Wyatt’s features. She knew he was debating about going even faster. The ten miles to the emergency room seemed like a million.

  “How are you doing?” He didn’t take his eyes off the road, but she knew he was talking to her.

  “We’re okay.” She took a deep breath. “He’ll be fine.” She tried to reassure them all. The single, stiff nod gave her little reassurance that he believed her.

  The edge of town loomed, the lights of the suburbs emerging out of the desert, and finally, streetlights flashed across the cab. They were close.

  “It hurts,” Tyler whispered.

  “I know.” She rubbed his shoulders. “We’re almost there.”

  “I don’t want no stitches.” The panic was back in his voice. “I want my mom,” he whispered and hiccuped against Emily’s shoulder.

  She knew that pain, that loss. Tyler opened his eyes then, and in the instant of illumination from the streetlight they passed, she saw his panic. “Have you had stitches before?”

  Tyler nodded. Something told her not to let this pass. “What happened?”

  He resisted. She saw the wheels turning in his head. “Dom wasn’t being nice,” he finally said.

  “Your mom’s boyfriend?”

  Tyler nodded.

  Emily looked over Tyler’s head to meet Wyatt’s gaze in the shadows. He shook his head slightly, and though they weren’t finished, he wanted her to wait. She gave Tyler a hug instead of more questions.

  Finally, Wyatt pulled up to the emergency entrance. Wyatt slammed the truck into Park and ran around the front of the vehicle, yanked open the passenger door and grabbed Tyler. They were inside before Emily could catch her breath.

  For an instant, she stared after them, feeling left out, forgotten. She shook her head. She was being stupid again. She slid across the bench seat and grabbed the wheel. Wyatt probably didn’t realize he’d left the keys in the ignition and the engine running. She parked the truck in the nearest space, then entered the E.R. through the sliding glass doors.

  Despite the late hour, the E.R. was busy. Emily rushed in, but Wyatt and Tyler were nowhere in sight. She hurried to the admissions desk. The woman behind the counter looked as harried as Emily felt, but she smiled, anyway. “Can I help you?”

  “Hello. I’m Emily Ivers.” She tried to sound calm, straightening her spine, hoping the subliminal message worked. “A man just brought in a little boy with a cut hand? Hawkins? Where are they?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” She glanced to her side. “Third cubicle on the left.”

  Not waiting in the hard vinyl chairs? Oh, yeah, blood tended to move you up the food chain. Following Wyatt’s voice, she found the pair easily.

  Wyatt stood beside the gurney, holding Tyler’s arm, a look of determination on his face.

  “Hey.” She stepped inside and saw the relief on Wyatt’s face. “Have you seen anyone?” Wyatt shook his head.

  As if on cue, a doctor came through the dividing curtain. She vaguely recognized him, but she saw so many docs in her courtroom, providing expert testimony. He looked at her and vaguely smiled, as if he recognized her, too.

  “Evenin’, folks. What do we have here?”

  Wyatt reluctantly stepped away and let the doctor take over.

  “I was getting a drink and dropped the glass. Ouch!” Tyler protested as the doctor gently pulled the bloodied towel away.

  Emily and Wyatt each moved closer, creating a cocoon around Tyler. “He has to look at it, buddy,” she explained.

  “I don’t want him to.”

  Tyler started to protest and squirm, but when he looked up at Wyatt, the little boy quieted. Emily frowned, wondering about the look that passed between them.

  “I’m being tough, aren’t I, Uncle Wyatt?” Tyler’s voice shook.

  “Yes, you are. I’m proud of you.”

  She could have hugged Wyatt. He was good at this.

  Within a few minutes, the doctor had removed the bandages and probed the wound. “Yeah, he’ll need stitches,” he confirmed.

  Moments later, a nurse came in, and after much discussion, Wyatt and Emily were ushered out of the cubicle. They might be allowed to comfort Tyler, but when it came time to actually stitch up his tiny hand, no civilians allowed. Wyatt was sure he could handle it and said so, but the doc wasn’t taking any chances having freaked-out parents in the room.

  And so they sat. Well, Emily sat. Wyatt paced.

  “I can’t stand this.” She joined his pacing. They ended up stopping in front of a bank of vending machines.

  “You want anything?” she asked Wyatt.

  He looked at her as if she’d lost her mind, then raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. She watched him. He cursed and she half expected him to kick something. The judge in her returned as she tried to analyze him.

  “Want to talk?” She leaned against the wall, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s bothering you, besides the fact that Tyler’s hurt?”

  “I... I... Hell, Emily. I’m no good at this. He was so frightened. I could kill that jerk boyfriend of his mother’s.” He stopped and looked at her. “I don’t suppose admitting that to the judge on our custody case is a good idea, huh?”

  Emily laughed, just a little. “You are great with Tyler.” She stepped in close, enjoying for once being in the comforting, supporting role. “Believe me, I’ve seen some doozies.” She shuddered just thinking about them.

  Wyatt automatically wrapped his arms around her, switching places once again. This time she let him.

  Wyatt smiled and leaned closer. “Thank you,” he whispered as his lips met hers.

  “Judge Ivers?”

  Emily jumped back, nearly stumbling and Wyatt caught her elbow. He looked at someone behind her and she turned around to look.

  “Randy?”

  The young bailiff from the courthouse stood just a few feet away. He looked very different in worn sweats instead of his usually pristine uniform.

  As they both stared at him, his cheeks flamed. “Sorry, I...didn’t mean to interrupt... I mean...”

  “Shut up, Randy.” A very pregnant woman seated in a wheelchair smacked his arm. “And get moving.”

  “Yes, dear. Sorry. See you later, Judge. Sir.” The couple hurried down the hall without a backward glance.

  Wyatt chuckled softly and Emily turned to glare at him. “This isn’t funny, not at all.”

  Emily closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Thankfully, the nurse came out just then to tell them Tyler was ready to go. Wyatt led the way to a very groggy boy bandaged up and waiting.

  Tear tracks stained his cheeks, and his hand was wrapped in white gauze. Someone, probably the nurse, had put a superhero bandage on the bundle. At least Tyler wasn’t sobbing anymore.

  “That’s the pain medication I gave him.” The doctor explained his sleepiness. “He’ll be up to no good in no time, won’t you, kiddo?” The man smiled at Tyler before leaving them. Tyler giggled and closed his eyes, already fighting sleep.

  “Come on, buddy.” Wyatt carried Tyler to the truck and settled him in with Emily before climbing in himsel
f.

  His eyes closed, Emily thought Tyler had fallen asleep, but he hadn’t.

  “That was lots better than last time.”

  She looked over at Wyatt and saw his jaw tighten. He didn’t shake his head or stop her this time. He wanted to know more, as well.

  “You said earlier you got hurt because your mom’s boyfriend wasn’t being nice.” She took a deep breath. “How was he not being nice?” Tyler’s reluctance filled the air. She wouldn’t ask him another question if he chose not to say any more.

  “Dom said he was going to spank me with his belt.”

  “Why?” Wyatt’s voice was soft, strained.

  “I was playing with Mama’s bead stuff. She makes necklaces sometimes. She’d told me not to, but she was at work. I didn’t like it when he spanked me. So I ran.” His voice trailed off.

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Not far. I fell down on the sidewalk.” Another sob broke the air.

  She didn’t want to ask, the images of the little boy running from a grown man with a temper and a belt in his hand were too vivid. “Did he—”

  “Mama took me to the emergency room when she got home.”

  That didn’t explain what had happened when the man had caught him. And Emily didn’t ask. She doubted her heart could take the details right now.

  Silence filled the cab as they drove home and soon Tyler’s even breathing provided background noise.

  Emily turned to Wyatt. The dashboard lights illuminated his features, the reflection of his strength, but also his exhaustion.

  He surprised her when he whispered, “If I ever see that guy—”

  Emily smiled into the darkness, moved by the strength of Wyatt’s devotion.

  “Are you worried about that Randy guy seeing us together?” he asked, surprising her again. “He was in the courtroom the day of the hearing, wasn’t he?”

  Emily nodded then realized it was too dark for him to see the movement. “Yeah. He’s the bailiff.”

  “What are the chances he’ll keep his mouth shut?”