Lifting my fingers to my lips, I gasp. “What? Oh my God, are you okay?” I cry.
“Fine. I’ll be home in a few days.”
The line makes a noise and I look down to see that he’s ended the call. Lifting my gaze to the people around me, my eyes find Channing and tears fill them. I beg myself not to let those tears spill over, but I’m weak. I’m a failure. They fall like damn rivers down my cheeks.
Channing rushes to my side as quickly as her pregnant legs will carry her. She doesn’t sit down next to me, instead she holds out her hand. I take her offered palm and stand beside her. Channing’s fingers curl around mine and without a single word, she tugs me right out the front door.
Hand-in-hand we begin to walk down the quiet drive toward the sidewalk, then she turns left, and we continue down the road all in silence. That is until she breaks that silence with her soft voice.
“Rylan tried to push me away when we were first together,” she murmurs. “Wyatt was the one who urged him not to act like an idiot. Eventually, he got his shit together, but while he was doing that, I lived with Wyatt for a little while,” she begins. “I stayed in his guest room.”
“Okay.” I nod, looking at my feet, unsure of why she’s telling me this.
She clears her throat, her fingers gently squeezing mine. “Wyatt is a good man. He has a past with Sammi, one I’m sure you know more about than I do. However, I think right now, he could be scared.”
“He said he almost died,” I announce.
Channing nods. “Rylan called me. He lost his balance on the pole, luckily, he was strapped on and didn’t go anywhere. It scared everyone, sounds like that includes him, too.”
My heart skips a beat inside of my chest from her words. He lost his balance. I pull my hand out from hers and stop walking. I stop in my tracks. Lifting my head up, I look at her directly in the eye. The sadness that consumes her features tells me that this is real, that she’s serious. He almost died.
“What do I do?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I can’t answer that. All I know is that if he’s putting distance between you, it has absolutely nothing to do with you, it has to do with how he’s feeling. About the almost fall, about the fact that he couldn’t protect you, all of it,” she advises.
“You think he’s putting distance between us?” I ask, sounding more defensive than normal. She lifts a brow, a knowing look on her face as her lips turn down into a frown. “He was so different on the phone,” I admit.
“Hopefully he gets his head out of his ass by the time they come home,” she says, sounding less than hopeful.
We continue on our walk, but our conversation ceases. I’m glad for the break. I don’t want to talk about Wyatt anymore. I don’t want to think about the fact that he could have died, that I could have died. All of it is too damn depressing.
What a terrible day.
It’s as if the universe is trying to tell us something, trying to give us a warning. The thought of not being with him makes my entire body ache, not just my heart or my stomach, but my entire being.
I love him.
Chapter Thirty-Four
WYATT
The yard comes into view and I can’t help but let out a breath of air, a sigh of relief. Although, I don’t quite know what awaits me when I get home. I’ve talked to my dad, my mom, Ford, and Louis a few times over the past few days.
Who I haven’t spoken a word to is, Exeter. She hasn’t called me, but to be fair, I didn’t really leave the last conversation we had on welcoming terms, she’s probably scared to dial my number at this point. I don’t blame her.
Parking my truck, I close my eyes for a moment as Rylan parks next to me. With the last bit of energy I have, I grab my shit and jump down from the truck. Heading toward my personal pickup, I throw my stuff in the back of the bed and wait for Rylan.
This time he doesn’t have to pick up his paycheck, everything has been on a steady direct deposit, just like mine, for months. He throws his shit in the back of my truck and with a grunt, climbs into the passenger seat.
“You ready?” I ask, not looking over to him.
He clears his throat but doesn’t say anything as I start my truck. I drive out of the yard, and though I can feel the questions on the tip of his tongue, Rylan stays quiet for a record five minutes before he starts to speak.
“You know you’re acting like an ass. Since I acted like an ass a few months ago and you called me on my shit, consider this payback,” he states.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I scowl, ignoring him. I’m fucking exhausted, all I want to do is find my bed and fall asleep face down. I don’t even want a shower at this point, just sleep. I definitely do not want to have this goddamn conversation with him, not now or ever.
“She wasn’t hurt, Wy. Ford and Louis got to her in time. Robby showed up before anything happened. It was a narrow miss, but it was a fucking miss,” he explains.
My fingers grip the steering wheel tightly, my knuckles turning white and the plastic crackling beneath my grasp. Anger fills my entire fucking body at his words. Ford and Louis shouldn’t have had to get to her in time. It should have been me.
It wasn’t and it damn well should have been.
Regret is a funny thing. I should be running toward her, grabbing her in my arms and thanking God that she’s okay. I shouldn’t be feeling all kinds of dread with each mile closer I drive. I am though. I don’t want to see her. I don’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes. I know that I’ve let her down, in more ways than one.
Pulling my truck up to Rylan’s curb, I wait for him to get out. “You gonna talk, or sit there in silence like a jackass?” he asks.
My head whips to the side, my eyes finding his and fury fills my veins. “Watch yourself,” I warn.
He snorts. “Cousin,” he begins. I close my eyes when I feel his hand slam down against my shoulder and he squeezes. “Don’t be a fucking asshole. She loves you, and I know that you love her. Be good to her. I think she’s been through enough shit.”
Slowly, my eyes open and I look directly into his.
His lips twitch in a grin. “Be really fuckin’ good to her. Maybe once you get laid, you’ll be able to open up to her,” he snickers.
“I should beat your ass,” I grunt.
“I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction,” he quips as the door swings open and he jumps down from my pickup. “Seriously though, don’t be a douche.”
He doesn’t say anything else. He doesn’t need to. He knows what’s going through my head, because the same shit would go through his. I watch as his bags drop to the ground as soon as his front door flies open. A mass of blonde hair flutters out of the door and I have to turn away as soon as they begin to kiss.
Rylan and Channing are sickeningly in love, and me? I’m still goddamn jealous, even though I’m sickeningly in love as well. It’s different with me—with us. I’m in love with Exeter, but I can’t care for her the way that she needs me to. I was foolish to think that I could. Hell, I can’t even protect her.
It doesn’t take me long to drive to my new place. I haven’t even spent the night here yet. I wince when I see Exeter’s car beneath the carport. I think about parking behind her, but I decide against it, choosing to park off to the side instead. She’ll probably be leaving here shortly and I don’t want to block her in.
Leaving my bags in the back of my truck bed, I jump out of the driver’s seat and slam the door closed. Slowly, I head toward the front door. I know what waits behind that door. A woman who will have probably been crying, one who will be expecting kisses, hugs, and explanations. I have none of that for her.
The first step up the porch feels gigantic. Once I’m in front of the door, I slip my key into the lock and just stare. I could turn around, jump back in my truck and get the fuck out of here. I could delay all of this by another day. I could try to drink the regret and pain away.
“You gonna run?” a voice asks from behind me.
&nbs
p; I jump, my back tensing and sending shooting pain down to my knees. I jarred something up on that pole and my back has been tender ever since. Leaving my key in the lock, I slowly turn around to see Ford standing in front of me, his arms crossed over his wide chest and a scowl on his face.
“C’mon off the porch,” he demands, then spits onto the ground.
“You chewin’ again?” I ask him as I slowly make my way down the porch steps.
“Only when I’m pissed off,” he grunts.
Lifting a brow, I make my way over to him, stopping when I’m about two feet in front of him. He glares at me for a moment, then his gaze swings over to the house before coming back to meet mine.
“You gonna break it off? You know she’s got her shit packed, just in case?”
My heart jumps to my throat at his words. I blink. “Why would she do that?” I ask, stupidly.
I’ve been avoiding her for days. Ignoring her. I have made it perfectly clear that something is very wrong.
EXETER
I see his truck pull up, I watch him walk up the porch as if he’s walking to his own funeral. Something heavy is weighing him down, and I have a feeling that I know what it is—guilt. It’s not an easy emotion.
Guilt and regret, I feel them every day when I think about Emily. When I think about not turning in our fathers years sooner, instead of just a few days ago. When I think about the fact that they could have been in jail, then they wouldn’t have run MawMaw out of her home and a million other things in life wouldn’t have happened.
“Why would she do that?” Wyatt asks.
Ford doesn’t see me as I’ve quietly made my way outside. I drink up the sight of Wyatt. His hair is a mess, his clothes wrinkled and disheveled. I’m sure his beard is a scraggly disaster, too. To me, he’s never looked better.
“Because she figures you’re going to run now that she’s hopelessly in love with you. It’s what happens, right?” I ask, speaking about myself in the third person.
Wyatt turns around, blocking Ford from my view, but I doubt he’s going to stick around and watch our show anyway. Ford is one of the nicest men that I’ve ever met, but he’s good at avoidance. Just like Wyatt, just like Louis, just like every man.
“So, you’re making decisions for me?” he asks, his voice rough and ragged.
Planting my fists on my hips, I close my eyes for a moment and inhale deeply before I let the breath out in a rush. Opening my eyes again, I look at him, my gaze connecting with his.
“I’m not doing anything, I’m available, open and waiting. You’re the one ignoring me,” I point out.
Wyatt’s eyes narrow before he takes a step toward me. His hands ball into fists and I hold my breath as I wait for what he’s going to do or say next. His eyes flick to the side, then come back to me.
“Who protected you?” he demands.
“You did,” I say, lifting my chin.
He snorts. “I didn’t do shit. I was four states away,” he points out.
Hesitantly, I lift my hand and with shaky fingers, I guide them through his messy beard to cup his cheek. I watch as his eyes slowly close, then reopen and focus on me, again.
“You asked Ford and Louis to keep an eye on me. They did that, for you. Because they’re your friends. They did that to help you protect me and thank God they did. Because through them, you saved me,” I breathe.
I feel his jaw tense beneath my touch as he grinds his teeth together. His eyes alight with something unreadable. “Don’t open your mouth if you’re going to say something fucked up,” I state.
He blinks, his jaw goes slack and his lips turn up into a huge smile. “I was, how’d you know?” he murmurs.
With a shrug, my own lips twitch into a grin. “You looked like you were going to say something fucked up.”
“How can you think that I really protected you, honestly. You were almost hurt, again.”
My eyes search his as I roll to the balls of my feet. My lips are so close to his that his beard tickles my face. “Because, you love me. Those men did that because they love you, and they knew that you couldn’t be here. They’re your family,” I whisper.
I know the moment that he relents. The moment he lets that regret vanish. The guilt is still there, it probably will stay firmly planted behind his eyes for a good long time, but I can deal with that. I have my own. It’s the regret that hurts my heart. I never want him to regret a single thing with me, not even the fact that he had to work when something happened.
Wyatt reaches out for me, his hand grasps my waist and he tugs me against his chest. I fall forward, my palms landing on his chest for stability. His mouth lands against mine with a crash. My breath hitches as my lips part and that is all the encouragement he needs.
His tongue fills my mouth. He tastes me. He takes from me. He claims his ownership of me. All in a single kiss. The way we were always meant to be, together. Melded as one. There is no him and me, there is only us.
With a grunt, he turns us around so that my back is against the house, and he begins to walk forward. Stumbling backward, I climb the steps, but he doesn’t go inside of the house. He continues to walk until my back hits the outside wall.
“Wyatt,” I exhale.
His head dips as his lips move down my jaw, my neck, and then stop at the swell of my breast. My breath hitches when I feel his hands at my jeans. He expertly unbuttons them, tugging on the zipper and pushes them as far as he can down my legs, along with my panties.
The cool breeze hits my warm center and I moan as I quickly pull my legs from my jeans. Wyatt’s hands fist the hem of my shirt before he rips it from my body, throwing it somewhere behind him in the dirt. His fingers unclasp my bra, tugging it down my arms and there I am, against the wall of the house, in the middle of the day, completely naked.
Wyatt’s eyes find mine and they clash. His gaze is wild and feral. Reaching for his jeans, my fingers find the top buttons and pop them, then as his lips devour mine, his teeth nipping me, I slowly drag down the zipper.
“Fuck, take my cock out, sugar,” he groans.
My eyes close at the word sugar, I haven’t heard it in what feels like a lifetime. Shoving his jeans and underwear down as far as my hands will let me, I wrap my fingers around his cock. It’s my turn to groan, feeling his hard length, ready and waiting for me.
He releases my waist and I let out a squeal, my hand falling from his cock as he picks me up by the backs of my thighs. My hands wrap around his shoulders as my legs do the same to his waist. Without even so much as a grunt he holds me, propping my back against the wall. His hips shift and I feel his cock slide through my wet center, the head touching my clit.
“Wyatt,” I gasp. He grins, I can see his white teeth beneath his beard. “Does this mean you still love me?” I ask, coyly.
His smile dies and without a word, his hips move, and he drives his cock deep inside of me. “Never stopped, sugar,” he breathes.
“You faltered,” I whisper.
He shakes his head, his eyes serious as he stares into mine. He doesn’t move, his cock still buried to the hilt, his chest pressing against mine, his face so close to mine we’re almost touching. One of his hands spans one of my outer thighs, the other is planted next to my head. He inhales deeply, then lets it all out in one swift breath.
“Not even for a second. Just trying to make sure you got the best man you can have. The man you deserve. A man that can always protect you the way you need protectin’.”
“I do, Wyatt. He’s inside of me right now—everywhere,” I say through trembling lips.
He doesn’t respond, not with words. Instead, he fucks me against the outer wall of our home. His lips never leave my skin, they move from my lips to my neck and back again. Until I come. He lifts his head to watch me, his eyes glued to my own.
He stays just like that until he comes.
Our gazes frozen.
Our breaths coming out in pants.
Our hearts intertwined.
C
hapter Thirty-Five
EXETER
Leaving my clothes out in the middle of the yard, Wyatt keeps me wrapped around his waist. Or maybe I cling to him, my chest pressed against his. He carries me directly into the house. Looking around, he probably expects to find packed boxes, suitcases, or even trash bags with my things inside.
“I didn’t pack anything,” I murmur.
Shifting his gaze to mine, he tilts his head to the side in question. I shake my head once, disengaging myself from his body. He lets me stand on my own feet and I take a step back.
“Why’d you let me think you packed your shit?” he asks, his face starting to turn an odd shade of red.
I bite the inside of my cheek, looking to the side, feeling extremely vulnerable in my naked state. “You were going to break it off with me when you came home, right?” I ask.
Shifting my gaze back to him, I watch as he moves from foot to foot. He’s completely dressed, his jeans still open, but he’s pulled them over his hips and all I can see is the dark smattering of hair at his pelvis. I hate that I lick my lips at the sight.
Wyatt clears his throat and I lift my eyes back up to his. He’s got his cocky smirk firmly planted on his lips, his eyes glittering with knowing. He fucking knows what he does to me, and if he didn’t by the heat in my gaze, he does by the fact that my nipples are so hard they’re painful.
I want him again. I hate that. I love it. I am so confused.
He lets out a sigh when I don’t say anything, when I wait for him to speak.
“I was,” he admits, lifting his hand as he runs his fingers through his hair.
Wyatt’s hair is a mess, his eyes have dark circles beneath them, and he looks completely worn out. My fingers itch to touch him again, to feel his beard beneath my fingertips, to run my hand down his bare chest.
My entire body aches with the need to feel all of his warmth against me. I missed him. Even with him standing in front of me—I miss him.
HERO: An Unfit Hero Novel Page 25