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“Wyatt, I didn’t mean for you find out like this,” I started. “I swear-”
He cut me off before I could continue.
“Just come over, Hailey.”
He hung up without another other word.
I had to take several moments before I felt calm enough to drive. My mind was a mess and I was panicking, only terrible scenarios playing out in my mind about the upcoming confrontation.
Still, I tried to be optimistic.
A girl could hope, right?
Finally, though, I was able to turn the key in the ignition and pull out of the driveway.
When I showed up at Wyatt’s apartment the door was yanked open before I even knocked.
By the look on his face, I knew things were not going to go how I had hoped.
Chapter Eighteen: Hailey
Wyatt and I just stared at each other for a few seconds, me standing just outside his front door and he like a guard over the threshold. I looked at a place just over his shoulder and I felt the coolness of his eyes roaming over me.
I couldn’t meet Wyatt's eyes - not yet - afraid of what I would find there, so instead of doing so I let my eyes trail over his body.
I still couldn’t help but notice how devilishly handsome he was in a pair of sweat pants and a tee shirt. Then back up my stare went. Over long legs, muscled thighs, trim hips, a flat stomach and a hard chest.
His jaw was stubborn looking and the lines of his face were sharp. The light stubble darkening his jaw intensified the bad boy aura surrounding him. He definitely didn’t look like the kind of guy you would want to piss off.
When I finally found the courage to allow my eyes to meet his, I found him watching me. He tried to bury his emotions beneath a layer of ice I could tell but the clench of his jaw and the heated light in his eyes told me what I needed to know.
He was angry.
Rightfully so.
Actually, the word angry didn’t adequately describe the tsunami of hot emotion pouring off him. It threatened to burn me alive even though a word hadn’t been spoken yet.
I swallowed and straightened my spine. I needed to pull up my defenses for the upcoming confrontation that was about to go down. No matter what, I wasn’t going to just tiptoe around him. My pride wouldn’t allow it. I would explain how this situation happened and hoped he understood. I knew I deserved him being pissed, hell I would have been too, but my kid was in his house and I needed to see him.
“Can I come in?” I asked, working to keep my voice level.
He stepped back and allowed me to enter.
“Where’s Noah?” I asked as I passed him, careful so that no parts of our bodies made contact. “How is he?”
My focus moved completely from Wyatt to my baby.
“On the couch,” he answered, the words ultra-controlled and giving nothing away. “He’s fine. Poor kid is suffering from one of those twenty-four hour bugs though.”
I headed straight for the living room and immediate rushed to Noah’s side. I dropped the bag I carried on my side and knelt next to the furniture, my hands hovering over him. I was careful not to jostle him even though I wanted nothing more than to pull him into my arms and make sure he was truly okay.
My son – our son – was sleeping peaceful on the couch. A light blanket was thrown over him and his chest rose and fell gently.
“He fell asleep almost as soon as we got here. I woke him up to eat lunch and gave him another dose of the medicine in the bag. He watched television for a few minutes but went right back to sleep. He’s been sleeping most of the time. Is that normal for him?”
My eyes remained on the small child, my mother’s eyes meticulously cataloguing his every feature and searching for anything that might be off.
Luckily, all I saw were the normal signs of a child recovering from a mild sickness.
