He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even look at me. He just looks over my head, those blue eyes flaring wide as each word is shot at him like a bullet. I’m angry, and he knows it. So, I push. I needoneflicker of emotion from this man. Justone.I step forward, tilting my head so that he has no choice but to look at me. “Do you hate me? Do you tolerate me?” I throw out my hands in exaggeration, “Whatis your problem?”
Finally,finallyhe looks at me. His blue eyes hold my green ones. They bounce between them, like he’s searching for something. My heart rate picks up, realizing how close we are now. He dips his head, low enough that the tip of his nose brushes mine. All the air is sucked from my lungs as his hot breath fans over my lips. For a split second, I think he mightkiss me. But he just says, “I hate everyone except you, Whitney.That’smy problem.”
With that, he turns and leaves me alone in the living room. I’m surprised when he doesn’t slam his door shut. He softly clicks it shut, and that somehow hurts far more than hearing a door slam.
Chapter Ten
WHITNEY
It’s currently three a.m. as I prattle down the cold hallway to the kitchen. The wooden floor bites at my bare feet as I do my best to make as little noise as possible. I woke up around two-thirty to find Benji sleeping at the foot of the bed. When I rolled out from beneath the comforter, he didn’t even stir.
For the half hour I laid restless, I tried to read, but couldn’t focus. My argument with Wyatt has been haunting my thoughts since I crawled into bed.
I hate everyone except you.
I blink those words away as I set the book on the island and rifle through the cabinets for a bag of coffee. What he did… it was sweet. Whether it was my hormones, or whatever mood swing I was working through after my conversation with Ana, I know I took it out on the first person I had the chance to. Wyatt isn’t her dad–that much is true. But who am I to throw that in his face? To shit on him for wanting to care for her? Despite how much… despite the way things should have gone–she isn’t his. Her biological father wants as little to do with her as he does with me.
I’d tried, more than once, to get him to be a part of our lives, but he doesn’t want a family. I can’t and never will beg someoneto be a part of Brinley’s life. She deserves someone who’s all in. I’ll forever regret my time with him, but I’ll never regret her.
Trying to be as quiet as possible, I flick on one of the low, dim lights above the kitchen sink. I have every intention of sitting on the porch with my book and watching the sunrise before I need to get ready for the day. I’d texted Ana late last night, and she plans to pick Brinley up a bit earlier. Vivienne is coming by later, too. We plan on getting lunch during our breaks and stopping to see Blake at the center.
I fail to stifle a groan when Wyatt’s bedroom light flickers on.
I hit brew on the coffee pot the second Wyatt’s looming presence enters the kitchen. “You’re up early.” His morning voice sends a lick of heat down my spine. I’ve heard it before, but the memories are clouded by one too many shots of tequila and mind-numbing orgasms. My body involuntarily follows, and–fuck me–I wish it hadn’t.
Because he’s shirtless. Grey sweatpants hang low on his taut hips, and every glorious muscle in his body is on full display. My mouth waters like a damn cat in heat, and it takes all of my willpower to not let my eyes roam below the waistband of his pants. “Couldn’t sleep,” I respond, but it comes out entirely too breathless and pathetic.
Again.Fuck. Me. Is he even human? I’ve dated plenty of men, but none as toned as Wyatt. His tan skin is enough proof that he spends his days out in the sun, and the veins in his forearms are so prominent that I want to trace them with my tongue.
When he doesn’t respond right away, my face lights up like someone just set a match against my skin. I realize, now that he’s standing before me, that I’m as naked as he is. I’m wearing a baby tee, undies, and no fucking bra. His gaze heats, and his eyes are slow and meticulous as they roam up my legs and over my bare thighs. They snag on my breasts. I curse myself as mynipples harden painfully, either from his harsh stare or the cold air. When they finally reach my face, I have to turn away. I tug at my shirt, wishing I had slept in something more oversized.
Unwanted self-conscious thoughts hit me like a train. I’ve always been on the curvier side. Never runway thin, like Vivienne or Blake. But my post baby body was much, much different from when Wyatt and I met. Everything feels… more stretched. My stomach is softer, and lower. My thighs are thicker. My hips are wider. My once smooth skin is covered in stretch marks–they paint my thighs, stomach, and even my chest. I’ve always been blessed in the breast department, but they’re heavier now. More tender and tired, much like the rest of my body. On more than one occasion I’ve tried to squeeze into an old pair of jeans, but reality always catches up and sends me into a spiral. I’m grateful that my body did something as beautiful as carry Brinley… but it’s hard not to miss the way it looked before. Looking in the mirror and not recognizing myself is still as painful as the day I gave birth.
I swallow, nodding towards the machine that’s slowly pouring black liquid into a pot. I hope he stops staring, otherwise I’m crawling back into bed and staying there for the rest of the day. “Coffee?”
I pull one mug down, but when I go to reach for another higher up in the cabinet, my fingers barely graze the handle. I’m on my tippy toes when a warm body enters my space. Wyatt’s chest brushes against my unbound hair, and my body stills. I’m so shocked at his nearness that I don’t have time to pull my hand away before his knuckles brush mine. But it’s gone as quickly as it came. Wyatt clears his throat, stepping back.
I suck in a breath, and busy myself with filling our mugs. I hear the fridge open, and know he’s grabbing me creamer. Wyatt has always taken his coffee straight, and a little flutter reaches low in my stomach at the fact he knows that I don’t. I pivot justas he returns, creamer in one hand and a spoon in another. I hold out my cup, just to see what he does. He splashes some in there, just enough to give my coffee the perfect color. When he adds the spoon and looks at me with a cocked eyebrow, I let a teasing grin fall onto my lips. It’s wary though, aware of how our conversation went last night. “Your dog seems to like me more than you. He snuggled with me all last night.”
“Yeah,” Wyatt grunts, pulling the spoon out and reaching around to grab his own mug. Turning his back to me, he throws the spoon into the sink and leaves the creamer on the counter. “Everyone seems to think that’s the case.”
He leans against the sink and watches me. Part of me wishes he’d come back over and invade my space again. But the way his shoulders tense makes me think he’s keeping distance between us for a reason. I don’t like it. “I’m sorry about last night.” The apology bursts from my lips, and his mug freezes halfway to his mouth when he goes in for a sip.
“Why?”
I blink. I’m so dumbfounded by the question all I can manage is, “Huh?”
“Why, are you sorry, Whitney? Because you set a boundary? Because you told me I was being a dick?” His tone isn’t rough. It isn’t warm. It isn’t indifferent. It’s just… curious. Somehow, that’s more confusing.
“Well… yeah, I guess?” I speak. Or ask. I don’t know.
“I have been a dick,” he admits. I glance around to make sure the ceiling isn’t caving in. That the world isn’t about to end. Because Wyatt,Wyatt, is admitting I’m right. He continues, “I’m the one who should be apologizing. If I overstep again, just tell me. If I’m being an ass, just tell me. I’m… I will try to not act like that going forward.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding like I’m trying to convince myself.
“Okay?” he asks, his sapphire eyes scanning my face.
“Okay,” I confirm. He nods and pushes off the sink. But he doesn’t come to me, he stops at the book I’ve placed on the kitchen island between us. Before I can stop him, he picks it up. Skimming through it, he stops on my bookmark. My entire body heats. God, no.No, no no.Please don’t.
