Date night was everything I could have hoped for. Cuddling up on the couch after dinner and watching all of my favorite movies was something I wish I could do with Wyatt every night. But even then, our midnight swim and intimate moment at the pond might just be my favorite part about the entire experience.
When we finally got back home after, a shower to wash off the cold and dirt quickly turned into round two. And then three. I'm not sure how long I'd be sore for, but I don't care.
He opened up a little that night, too—let me dip into his heart and talked about his dad. I loved it. I want more of it, Ialwayswant more of him. Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and we’ll be stopping at his mom’s house after this to help with the food prep. It’s been a week since date night, and I’ve cherished every stolen moment and toe-curling kiss since then.
“Whitney,” A familiar, deep voice sounds from beside me. I jump and turn, surprise coursing through me at the sight of my newcomer. “Eddie?”
He leans against the checkout counter. Smile contagious, and his hands stuffed in his pockets. “How are you? How’s the little one?”
“She’s great,” I grin, glancing over him. “How have you been? I haven’t seen you around in a while.”
God, he really is handsome. I love Wyatt, but it doesn’t mean my eyes don’t work. I’d be blind not to notice Eddie. But I also notice he doesn’t carry himself the same way Wyatt does. He’s large, but not as large as Wyatt. His hands are rough, but not nearly as rough as Wyatt’s. And the scruff littering his jaw doesn’t crawl under my skin the same way Wyatt’s does. He’s handsome but he just isn’t…Wyatt.
“Good.” He nods enthusiastically, “I’ve been out of town doing a little recruitment.” He scratches the back of his neck, cheeks blooming. “A little bummed I never heard back from you about that date?”
My face heats, too, and I refrain from glancing over my shoulder, “Oh, well-” I’m cut off when a looming presence presses into my back. The heat is as overbearing as it is comforting.Thatwas quick. I feel Brinley’s hand tug on my hair before Wyatt voice booms, “Hi, I’m Whitney’s husband.” Tone anything but nice. He might as well have peed on me in the middle of the store. “And, you are?”
“Oh!” Eddie glances at me. “Oh,” he says again. And as if realizing he’s just standing there, his hand shoots out of his pocket, and he offers it to Wyatt. The latter takes it, and from the scrunch that hits Eddie’s face—I’d say it’s not a gentle squeeze. “Eddie.” He finally mutters back. “Nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” Wyatt’s hand lands on my waist. “How do you know my wife?”
“We’re old friends.” Eddie glances behind him, looking for the exit. “I should get going. I’ve got groceries in the car.” He doesn’t even bid me goodbye as he turns and bolts. I whirl on Wyatt, finding not only Brinley tucked under one of his arms, but the toy they were looking at.
My gaze narrows. “Do you want me to buy a ruler while we’re here? That way, next time you two can just whip them out and measure?”
“Nah, wouldn’t want him to feel inadequate.” Wyatt shrugs, looking over my shoulder. “Seems like a nice guy.”
I roll my eyes, tugging him forward. “Let’s go before you beat up the next guy who tries to talk to me.” I eye the doll in his hands, too. “Or buy this kid the entire store.”
“Nana! Nana! Nana!”Brinley does an excited stomp with each word, making her way towards Wyatt’s mom. The house smells of herbs and spices, and excitement courses through me at all the delicious food we’ll have tomorrow. It’ll be Brinley and I’s first full-blown Thanksgiving dinner, and I can’t wait.
“What can I help with?” I ask Ana, setting a few bags on the table as I meet her in the dining room. We picked up a few things she needed on the way in since most of our Thanksgiving dinner prep will be done here. Ana sets Brinley down, and we watch as she bolts from the room to find Wyatt.
“Give her something easy,” Wyatt hollers from across the house. They are probably in his old room, which has slowly turned into hers. Ana rolls her eyes at her son, giving me a gentle smile. “How about the pies? We can start the crust.”
“That I can do,” I nod firmly. Baking is still my specialty, even after Wyatt’s cooking lesson. I haven’t done it in quite sometime–well, not since before the shop burned down. When we get settled–Ana peeling apples and me preparing the crust–she’s the first to spark a conversation.
“My boy being good to you girls?” Ana asks, peeking up at me. “Always,” I say right away. That little fact would probably always be true. I’m sure of it. Suddenly, I'm looking into eyes that mirror Wyatt's so deeply. My eyes catch the photo of her and her late husband on the kitchen counter, and I blurt, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Not at all, honey.”
“How did Ben pass?” The question is quiet and gentle. I worry I’ve overstepped when she pauses on an apple, but she just asks, “Wyatt never told you?”
“I never asked,” I shrug, “He doesn’t seem to like to talk about it, much.”
Ana nods, understanding. She sucks in a breath, eyeing the same picture I’m looking at. “He had a heart attack when the boys were young.”
“I’m so sorry,” I mutter. I hate that this entire family hurts with the loss of someone so great. I wish there was something, anything I could do to ease that pain. I know there isn’t.
“It changed Wyatt; I think.” Ana continues, “Forced him to grow before he was ready. Sometimes, I think that boy blames himself.”
My head whips to hers, protectiveness and confusion marring my chest, “Why would he blame himself?”
“He and Ben were always butting heads. They loved each other, of course—had a bond stronger than anything I’ve ever seen,” Ana says, smiling, “But they didn’t always agree on everything. I think he carries some guilt over the fight they had the night before.”
“That’s horrible,” I frown. Ana nods, looking over my shoulder like she can see Wyatt through the walls. “We all grieve in different ways.”
“Why did you want to know?” she adds, concerning wrinkling her brows. “Everything okay?”
