“I know.” It’s the only reply I could come up with–still too shell-shocked to believe he’d actually show his face. I would be lying if I said Andrew wasn’t handsome. His personality is what makes him ugly, not his face. My throat tightens when I look at it and see Brinley. She’s always looked exactly like me, but there–in the line of his nose and the shape of his chin… it’s Brinley. I am so thankful she’s with Ana right now.
“I was sad to hear about that little fire. Really unfortunate.” He tilts his head, his eyes roaming over me in a predatory waythat makes my skin crawl. The way he says it grates. Like he knows something I don’t.
“Whatdo you want, Andrew?” My words are harsher this time, any trembling or insecurity I felt seconds ago gone. He isn’t sincere, he just wanted to throw it in my face.
“Can’t I just come see you?” He asks like we’re long-lost lovers. Not exes because his shady ass cheated on me. Not once, not twice, butthreedifferent times.
“No, you can’t.” I shake my head, letting my face morph into one of disgust. How dare he? “Especially when you’re trying to takemykid from me.”
He hums, obviously unphased and still willing to push. “How is my kid, by the way?”
“Just because you had five minutes of fun doesn’t mean you’re her dad,” I snap. I know I shouldn’t react—this is what he wants. A reaction. A fight.Proofthat he’s messing with my head and getting under my skin. I hate that I can’t help giving it to him.
“Is that how you remember it?” He clicks his tongue, not so subtly glancing at my chest. “Because it was definitely longer than five minutes. Much longer.”
Oh, now?Now, I’m fuming. “You want to know about Brinley? I’m sure your private investigator should be able to fill you in.” Satisfaction crawls through me when the tip of his nose reddens. It’s one of his usual tells when he’s been caught. He must have not known I found out about that little bit of information.
Andrew rolls his shoulders, quickly brushing it off. But his nose is still pink, and I know his temper is flaring. “Come on.” he sighs, ripping his hands from his pockets and flaring his arms wide, “You don’t miss me? Not even a little?”
“Like a fucking rash.” I bite back. “Where the hell is your wife, Andrew? Can’t imagine she’d be very happy with you being here.”
He scoffs, stuffing his hands back into his pocket. “She’s hardly my wife.”
My eyebrows pull together. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Feeling defensive, I widen my stance and cross my arms over my chest. But when I move, the sun catches my ringjust right. I suck in a breath as Andrew tracks it. His eyes flare, and then narrow on the diamond. “What’s that?”
I blanch. Because suddenly, I’m reminded that Wyatt isn’t even here right now. Sure, there’s others working today, but nobody I can see within eyesight. Would they hear me if I scream? When did Wyatt say he’d be back from his mom’s? “You need to leave.” I don’t give him room to debate. Maggie’s body suddenly shuffles, and for a second, I think she might lash out on him. But she doesn’t—she does something even better. She pisses right on his pristine leather-bound shoes. Andrew jumps back, baring his teeth and muttering a cure word under his breath. He doesn’t say another word, just spins on his feels and books it out of sight.
“You are so fucking cool, Maggie.” I let loose on a breath, adrenaline probably the only thing keeping me from crying right about now. “If I could fist bump you right now, I totally would.”
Maggie snickers, and we both watch as Andrew crawls into his fancy car and peels out of the ranch’s one-way road. That adrenaline begins to dim, and sudden dread at Andrew's appearance courses through my body.
Chapter Twenty-Five
WYATT
“This was your father’s band.”
My mother slides a ring across the table, right past the box of trinkets and the photo album of her and my father’s wedding day. Brinley is currently napping in my old childhood bedroom, so our voices are low and hushed. I take it, rolling the band between my fingers, but then setting it down with a shake of my head. “I can’t wear it, Mom.”
She smiles, leaning back in her chair. “Your dad used to make that same face when something was plaguing him.”
I huff, the memory of my father stinging. I came by this morning because I felt like I needed to. I couldn’t explain it, but I needed to see my mom. “He is so proud of you,” she adds.
“How do you know that?” I ask, running my eyes over my father’s gold band. I have a lot of my father’s stuff from when he passed. An old baseball glove, hats, tools. But nothing like this—nothing this sentimental. Not something he cherished with his soul. I haven’t done anything amazing with my life. I’ve always done what I needed to do. What others needed me to do. And I’m fine with it. But would he have wanted me to do more,bemore?
“Of course, he’s proud of you.” My mother’s face softens, her blue eyes a mirror to my own. “He loved you boys more than life.You grew up too fast, Wyatt. Took care of me and your brother when we needed you most. And now you’ve given a broken woman her spark back. You’ve shown her what love is supposed to look like for her and her little girl. I’m proud of you, and I know he is, too.”
DoI love Whitney? Is obsession equal to what love feels like? I don’t know what it means to be in love. All I know is that she’s wormed her way into a once empty spot in my chest. That I’d walk over hot coals for her. Rip my heart out and give it to her if hers stopped beating. I know I’ll fight for Brinley like my own. I know I… I love both her flawsandthe way she never tries to hide them.
Maybe I do love her. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Not if she doesn’t love me. I’m not any different than Andrew if I didn’t fight for her when I had the chance.
“Do you know why I gave her that ring, Wyatt?” my mom asks.
“Because dad asked you to.” I mutter back. That’s what she told Whitney, at least.
“Yes and no.” She tilts her head back and forth. “I promised your dad I’d only ever give up that ring to a woman who was as worthy as you. Who worked hard but loved harder. Who matched you in spirit and wildness. Someone that challenged you, because you’ve always been the kind of person who needs a little extra push. That’swhy I gave it to her.”
I don’t respond, still mulling over her words. Some days it’s easy to forget how similar Whitney and I can be, because she has a strength I don’t think I’ll ever be capable of. An ability to smile even after walking through hell. My lips part, but my mom speaks again. “If you think I don’t know there’s something odd about a rushed wedding, you’re undermining how smart your mother is.” She gives me a pointed look, and I have to fight from shrinking in my chair. It feels like I’m seven years old again. “Idon’t know what truly is going on between you and Whitney, but I do know that you look at her the way your father used to look at me.”
