Because I like Wyatt.
Because I want to fall for him, but I can’t take care of you and be with him.
Because if he were around, I’d fall in love with him. And that scares the shit out of me. I saw the hell you went through after losing Grandpa and I can’t do that.
I don’t need to answer. Gran sees the truth written on my face. She nods while I shake my head. There’s a reality in which I could win this battle, but it would cost me my truths out loud, and I’m not willing to reveal those. She would see through anything else, and though Wyatt hasn’t known me long, I’ve always had that sense that he can see the truth and lies in me as well.
Turning to face him, I gesture towards the back door. “Can I talk to you in private? Outside?”
Gran scoffs, but we both ignore her. Wyatt nods, sweeping out a hand in front of him for me to go first.
When we get into the yard, I lead him down the side of the house to the back, where it opens into the gardens. There’s a fountain in the middle of the yard, one that no longer works. The hedges are a mess, the garden overrun by a multitude of flowersand plants. Gran had started everything, but since her fall hasn’t done much out here. There’s a lot that needs to be done. The only thing we’ve kept up with is the mowing of the grass, and that’s only because a kid down the street does it.
“B, I won’t do it. When she came by yesterday—”
“To the station?” I whirl around to face him, eyes wide. His hat is back on his head, and it’s a battle of wills not to let my annoyance slip. “She didn’t.”
Wyatt’s mouth opens and then closes, realizing he’s ratted her out. Releasing a deep breath, he finally nods. “She came to ask if I’d work around here for her. Knew about old Betty and thought I was handy enough to help. I figured you didn’t know much about it.”
“Nothing. I knew nothing. You being here was a complete blindside.” I throw my hands up in the air and let out a frustrated huff. “I thought she asked me to get her Moon Pies because she was missing my grandpa. Not because you also ate them growing up.”
“Back when my dad wasn’t such a dick and we were a lot younger, yeah,” Wyatt says with a wistful smile, his eyes losing their focus on me for a second. “Had a lot of laughs around Moon Pies. Dad would hide them around the barn when we were doing chores, and once one of us found one and realized, it was a race to find the others.”
It softens me. Thinking about a younger Wyatt with all his brother’s racing through the barn looking for Moon Pies. I’d bet if I had siblings, my grandpa would have done the same. It does make me curious about Wyatt’s dad, though. From everything I knew, he didn’t sound like the kind of guy who would have fun with his kids.
I open my mouth to ask, then clamp it shut, dropping my eyesto the ground. No, this is not supposed to be me learning more things about Wyatt. We’re done.
Proof that my reasoning for not wanting Wyatt to do this should stand.
“B, I’ll tell her to find someone else,” Wyatt says gently, and with my head angled to the ground, I see his boots come a step closer.
Within reach of touching me now. It has my stomach swooping, and I itch to press a hand there, but I know it would give me away. He knows how to read me. He’s doing it right now.
“The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable,” he adds.
Yes. Yes, he needs to tell her exactly that. That she needs to find someone else, because I know she wasn’t actually looking for anyone. Even if she was, she has plenty of options to choose from—like a real company that does this kind of work. He needs to tell her no, because this is just Gran meddling.
My head shakes, though, when I go to respond, and the words that come out of my mouth aren’t the ones that my brain is screaming at me to say. “You don’t make me uncomfortable.”
My heart’s truth.
“Look at me.”
The words hold a command, even though he’s soft with them. They leave no room for argument, and I couldn’t deny him his request if I tried. It takes me a moment, but my gaze slowly drifts up the length of him, taking in his jeans, the t-shirt that hangs loose around his trim hips, knowing exactly how his entire body feels when I sleep against it. How warm and safe it is. I’d love nothing more than to slide my hands over his chest, around his neck, and let him kiss me. To taste the orange and pine that seems to encompass him.
Finally, my eyes meet his, and the breath leaves my lungs in a soft puff of air. The green depths are swimming with earnestness, open and free, willing to give whatever I ask for. There’s no huge grin taking over, no crinkle at the corner of his eyes.
“What do you want?” he asks with a gentleness that makes my heart feel like it’s on a pillow, floating through the breeze.
He’ll do whatever I want, which comes as no surprise. But it makes it so much harder to listen to the battle raging inside of me.
Him. I want him. Desperately, especially when he looks at me like that. Willing to give me the world.
“I don’t want to lead you on,” I tell him, finally sliding my hands along the front of my tank top to smooth it out. There’s a small release of tension in my body when I do, like I’m taking a hit of a drug I’ve been denying myself.
The corners of his lips hitch upwards a fraction. “We’re just friends. I know. You didn’t answer the question, though.”
Swallowing the word ‘you’ deep into my throat, I exhale with enough force that my lips rattle. “I want Gran to be happy.”
