by Skye Jordan
It rang twice before his mother picked up. “Your father and I were just thinking about calling you. This cruise is amazing. The ship is beautiful, and the food, oh my goodness, we’ve never eaten so well. We’re both going to be ten pounds heavier by the time we—” She stopped suddenly, and a moment passed, filled only with Belle’s pathetic, heartbreaking wails. “Is that Belle? What’s wrong? What happened?”
Wyatt took a deep breath, then started to talk with tears stinging his own eyes.
By the time Wyatt got Belle home, she was asleep again. Whatever the doctor gave her for pain knocked her out, which was a good thing, because she was going to need sleep to heal. And Wyatt needed time to think.
He laid her down in the extra bedroom closest to Wyatt’s room, took off her shoes, and covered her with an extra blanket. There was no way in hell he was going to wake her to get changed or under the covers.
He sat there a long time, in the dark, with moonlight illuminating the room, just staring at Belle. His mother hadn’t said anything he didn’t already know, or anything Gypsy hadn’t already said, but knowing she was behind him and that she and his dad were on their way home eased some stress even as it created guilt.
His talk with his parents made Wyatt think about Gypsy’s support systems. Made him realize that Gypsy never had parents who were one hundred percent on her side. She was more like Belle than him. She’d had an unstable home life in her early years, which explained her dedication to Cooper and her reluctance to get involved with a man.
And what had Wyatt done? He’d gone and proven he was just like every other flake she’d ever dated. Not on purpose, but, in a way, that almost made it worse. He’d been so stupid he hadn’t kept track of the time. He hadn’t monitored his phone. And he’d been so caught up in his music, he’d been oblivious to everyone but himself.
Fuck. He had a serious problem. First Brody, then Francie, and now Belle and Gypsy. He’d let them all down.
Wyatt let out a long, deep breath. His shoulders slumped. Gypsy was right to walk away. Wyatt was a fucking mess. Even worse, his mess had rubbed off on her and Cooper. What in the hell could he offer a woman as together as Gypsy anyway? She was young, beautiful, sexy, successful, an amazing mother, sister, and friend. She had concrete morals and values and lived by them authentically.
Only now, during what felt like one of the darkest nights in his life, did he realize this was exactly why he hadn’t gone after Gypsy over the last three years. Because, in his gut, he knew he wasn’t good enough for her. In his gut, he knew she deserved better.
She’d been right. About everything.
Belle stirred and mumbled. Her eyelids fluttered. “Uncle Wyatt.”
She clearly wasn’t awake, but Wyatt sat on the edge of her bed, put his hand on her back, and sang the theme song to Beauty and the Beast until she quieted.
“I’m sorry, monkey,” he whispered, brushing her hair off her cheek. “I’ll do better.”
Wyatt felt fifty pounds heavier as he moved down the stairs and into the kitchen. He leaned back against the quartz counter, crossed his arms, and stared out at the incredible view of Nashville that filled almost every window of his house.
The view from Gypsy’s thinkin’ spot was just as nice.
That one little thought took him back to their night together. He’d been flying so damn high when he’d finally carried a sleeping Belle to his truck and kissed Gypsy good night.
He rubbed a hand down his face. “Damn, I fucked up.”
He was seriously questioning his role as a father to Belle. He had no idea what Brody and Francie saw in him.
Thinking about Brody dragged his gaze to the letter. He’d left the envelope on the counter where he dropped all his things when he came in the door. This seemed like as good a time as any to read it. He already felt like shit. Might as well get this out of the way too.
Wyatt picked up the letter and sat down at the breakfast table. He ripped the flap open and took a deep breath before unfolding the single page.
The sight of Brody’s messy handwriting felt like a knife in his heart. Wyatt closed his eyes, took a slow, deep breath and blew it out. Then opened his eyes and began to read.
Wyatt,
If I know you, you’ve found some way to blame yourself for my death.
Wyatt huffed a laugh, and a tear leaked from his eye.
Despite what you believe, I’m telling you—on my deathbed of sorts—that you were the biggest positive impact in my life, and having you in my corner kept me alive years longer than I would have been otherwise.
Pain and love cut through Wyatt’s heart.
I want to thank you for always having my back and giving me some of the happiest times of my life. Belle takes first place, but you’ve got all the rest. In one way or another, you’ve been taking care of me forever. You stood up for me on the playground, ran interference with Mom and Dad, let me tag along with your friends, and you were always there to listen to my crazy talk, even when you didn’t understand what was going on inside me. You supported my decision to marry Francie and go into the service. The fact is, you’ve always supported me, and I’ll never be able to tell you how damned important that has been to me.
Something heavy lifted from his soul.
But now, it’s time to say goodbye. I can’t live in this darkness anymore. I can’t continue to see doctor after doctor with no improvement. I hurt in a way I hope you never understand, and I just can’t take it anymore. You’ve kept me here far past my expiration date, so please, please, please know my decision has nothing to do with anything you did or didn’t do. I know you’ll want to go down the what-if and if-only paths. I’ve already explored those, and they lead nowhere, so don’t waste your time.
I’m so damn proud of what you’ve accomplished and how far you’ve taken your talent. I’ve always known you worried about overshadowing me, but the exact opposite is true. Your success has always been a source of inspiration for me. Your light shone on my life, brightened my world, and lifted me up.
Wyatt’s breath stuttered. He had to reread that paragraph three times before the words sank in, bringing a deep healing to his heart.
I know I don’t have to ask you to take care of Francie and Belle, and I’ll never be able to express how much that means to me. I know you will show Belle all the support, encouragement, and unconditional love you showed me, and that brings immeasurable relief to me as I leave this world.
You are one of the most incredible human beings I’ve ever met, and you deserve all the happiness life can bring. Please take comfort in knowing I no longer suffer. I am finally at peace.
Until we meet again, you have my eternal love and admiration,
Brody
20
Gypsy pulled out her scheduling calendar for the coming month and opened the website for the Grand Ole Opry’s upcoming events. Once she saw who was coming into town next month, she could decide how many employees to schedule. She could also contact some agents and see if the artists performing at the Opry would be willing to swing by the bar for more promotion.
Chin in her hand, she scrolled through the first week of May. But when she looked at the dates, all she could think about was Wyatt. She couldn’t believe it had only been a week since she’d left him at the emergency room with Belle. It felt like forever, which was bizarre, considering she’d gone months without seeing him before this last visit home and hardly given him a second thought.
Her gaze drifted to her desktop, and she slid her index finger beneath the edge of her blotter to ease the guitar pick from its hiding spot. She tilted it back and forth between her fingers, letting the iridescent coating play off the light, shining brilliantly against the black background. The title of the song he’d written recently, one he’d claimed was inspired by Gypsy, shone in metallic silver: Been waitin’ on you.
She didn’t know where Wyatt was, but she guessed by his lack of communication and the commitments he had to fulfill that he’d taken Belle
with him, at least until his parents returned.
Just the thought of him made her focus on the hole at the center of her chest. The one that had opened like a chasm the moment she’d walked out of the emergency room.
For the hundredth time, she replayed that day from hell in her mind. She had no doubt that putting Cooper first was the right thing to do. But she regretted what had happened to make her realize that. And she missed Wyatt. The last few weeks had changed everything. But every time she tried to see a path forward for all four of them, she just kept hitting brick walls.
She desperately wanted to apologize to him, but she really had nothing to apologize for. All she’d done was put Cooper first and break off their relationship. It had all be relatively amiable. She wasn’t pissed at him. She was just pissed at herself.
She was damned confused, that was for sure. She missed him and wanted to talk to him, but Cooper was her everything.
A knock on her office door made Gypsy jump and drop the guitar pick.
“Jesus,” she whispered, shoving the pick back under the blotter as the door opened and the noise from the bar flowed in.
Dylan stood in the doorway. He was dressed in office casual, dress pants and a dress shirt.
“Hey.” She stood and rounded her desk to hug him. “I thought you were in Puerto Rico.”
“I was. Just flew in and thought I’d stop by.”
She frowned. “Stop by? You never stop by. You go straight home to Emma and Hali. What’s wrong?” She turned and sat on the sofa. “Sit down.”
He took a chair across from her and looked around the office. “This is an improvement. You had to make paths to walk last time I was here.”
“Brandy, my new manager, is a dream. She’s everything I wanted and needed. I can put Cooper to bed every night, and I found a play group for him three days a week. Not superhero camp, but we’re both surviving.”
“Yeah, I heard about that.”
She smirked. “Word gets around in this family. Miranda, I suppose?”
“No, actually, Cooper.”
Gypsy winced.
“I’m sorry he didn’t get in,” Dylan said. “Since we had Halina, I’ve discovered nothing hurts more than disappointing your kid.”
“Amen.”
“Except maybe breaking off a relationship you were invested in.”
“Okay, that was Miranda.”
He laughed. “Nope. Cooper.”
She frowned. “What? He’s only been over to your house once this week, and it was only for a couple of hours.”
“That boy can be a chatterbox when something’s bothering him.”
“He hasn’t said anything about it to me. He asks about Wyatt, but that’s about it.”
Dylan leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs, and clasped his hands. “I know how much you care about Wyatt. You can deny it up one side and down the other, but I’ve seen you with him. And I know Wyatt’s been into you for years. The fact that he kept coming back even though you didn’t give him a sliver of a chance says a lot.”
Gypsy exhaled. “He’s a good guy, and I overreacted. I need to apologize, I already know that. But when I think about patching things up and moving forward, I hit all kinds of walls. I’m in no position to take on another kid when I’m still asking my family to help me with mine. I need someone solid. Someone reliable. Someone to support me, not make life harder for me. And touring…” She shook her head. “I know what goes on when musicians tour. I left that life, and I don’t want it back.”
Dylan nodded. “I hear that, but I’m worried you’re seeing what you expect to see and not what’s really in front of you. Based on the dildo who fathered Cooper and your work in Miami, I could see how you would hold on to old patterns and fears. I don’t know much more about Wyatt than what I’ve learned from Cooper and Miranda and talking to him myself, so that’s something you need to parse out. But I’m here to tell you we men really are mere mortals and make a shit ton of mistakes. Sometimes we do it for the right reason, and sometimes we’re just idiots. But at the heart of it, most guys are good guys.” He grinned and sat a little straighter. “Me, for example.”
Gypsy laughed, but inside, she was hurting. Dylan touched on all her doubts. All her faults. All the reasons she’d pushed Wyatt away.
“I will forever bless the day Emma forgave and trusted me enough to love me again,” he said. “And I think you might want to rethink breaking things off with Wyatt. I’m not saying take him back, necessarily, I’m just suggesting you see the situation in the big-picture view, without the filter from your past coloring it. Because, honestly, by the way he looks at you and the way he talks about you and to you, I think he’s been in love with you for a long time. From what I’ve been able to find—and yes, I put my journalistic interrogation techniques to work when I saw the chemistry between you years ago—Wyatt’s an upstanding guy caught in a really tough situation, trying to make everyone happy.”
Trying to make everyone happy. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
Dylan shrugged. “Just my two cents.”
Another knock came at the door, and her manager stepped in.
“Hey, Brandy,” Gypsy said. “Everything okay out there?”
“Everything’s great. An artist came in asking if he could get on your calendar. I wasn’t sure how you handle your bookings.”
Gypsy forced a smile. “No time like the present. Tincture won’t be here to set up until eight. Toss this guy into the fire. Let him play a couple of songs and have the crowd decide if he should come back.”
Brandy’s smile gleamed. “Cool.”
She retreated and closed the door behind her, muffling the noise in the office.
Dylan stood. “Well, I better get going. I just wanted to check in with you.”
Gypsy stood and gave him a hug. “Thank you. I appreciate all you do.” She pulled back and smiled up at him. “Tell Emma I’ll call and work out some time for Hali to come over and play with Cooper.”
“She’ll love that.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Dylan left, and Gypsy stood for a long time, just staring at the door. She thought she’d broken things off with Wyatt to protect Cooper, protect herself. But now she saw she’d broken it off over fear. And not even real fear, but fears lingering from the past.
“Well, shit,” she muttered to herself, rubbing her eyes.
She returned to her desk, slid into the chair, and glanced at her watch. Six o’clock. She wasn’t going to get that schedule done now.
Gypsy sighed and picked up her phone. She tapped into Wyatt’s number and typed before she could stop herself—again. Hey, when you get into town, can we talk? I’m sick over the way things ended. I didn’t handle it well at all.
She didn’t even look at the message again, she just hit Send before she could change her mind.
She tossed the phone on her desk, disgusted with herself. All she could do now was focus. As soon as she penciled in a rough draft of the schedule, she could pick up Cooper from Miranda’s and head home.
She refocused on the computer and scrolled through the upcoming events, but her heart wasn’t in it. The schedule would have to wait another day. Or at least until tonight, after Cooper was asleep.
She tapped the mouse one more time, then slid the arrow to the X in upper left corner to close the window. But her gaze snagged on the sight of Wyatt’s handsome face, and her stomach flipped.
He hadn’t said anything about being at the Opry next month. She realized he must be switching things up to fit Belle’s needs, and happiness softened her spine.
Gypsy took a deep breath and typed in his band’s website. She forced her gaze to skim past all the amazing images of Wyatt with his band, his smile electric, his joy tangible through the screen. He really would be giving up a lot to stay home with Belle. A huge sacrifice. It hadn’t been her place to tell him what to do with his life or how he should parent Bel
le. She’d have to add that to her apology if she ever got the chance to give him one.
She clicked into his tour calendar and was hit by a large message instead of concert dates.
Due to a family emergency, Fifth of Jack will be altering their tour schedule.
Add your email below for updates.
All Gypsy’s air leaked from her lungs, and tears stung her eyes. He was trying. Really trying. She understood the world he lived in, and she didn’t know one artist at his level who would make the sacrifices he was making.
“Shit.” She covered her face and huffed a disgusted laugh. She’d let an amazing man get away. “I’m such an idiot.”
The bar grew rowdy, and the sound of the first few chords of a song floated from an acoustic guitar. Gypsy shook off the gloom, closed her computer, and stood.
“Hey, y’all.”
The smooth, deep male voice came over the microphone on the stage, and Gypsy froze. Wyatt’s voice. No, couldn’t be Wyatt. He was supposed to be in Boston or Wisconsin or somewhere.
“I’m gonna really need your help tonight.”
Gypsy pulled in a sharp breath. Her heart squeezed, and doves flew out, battering around her ribs. “Oh my God.”
“I need to impress the hell out of this bar’s owner so she’ll let me come back now and then. Y’all up for helping me with that?”
Their cheers rattled the walls.
“Gyp-sy. Gyp-sy. Gyp-sy.” The crowd clapped, chanting Gypsy’s name. Then Cooper’s voice came over the mic. “Ma-ma. Ma-ma. Ma-ma.”
“What in the hell?” She swung her door wide and made her way toward the stage. She saw Wyatt sitting on the stage under the lights, his guitar on one knee, Cooper on the other with the microphone in his small hand. Belle stood by Wyatt’s side, arm still casted and in a sling, her other hand around another microphone.
All her misery vanished, and she made her way to the front, grinning so big, her face hurt. “What are you doing here?”
“Auditioning,” he said with all that warm charisma she’d come to love.