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“You really need to stop associating her with those things. We both, collectively, only know one Lucy.” I sigh.
I collapse onto my bed, tucking my arm underneath my head. It’s four-thirty in the afternoon, and I’ve been up since almost four this morning, maybe I’ll take a nap before everyone gets here. It’s been ages since I’ve had the time to take a nap.
“I just can’t get past the fact that you picked up a girl at her own father’s funeral.”
“That isn’t even remotely close to what happened.”
“Whatever. Taylor’s going to be thrilled to meet her.”
“Please tell her not to embarrass me. Or at the very least, not to tell every single college story she remembers.”
“Please, my wife is so much classier than that. She will find a way to integrate the stories seamlessly into conversation, when you least expect it, like the lady she is.”
I hear Taylor laugh and I roll my eyes.
“How long have I been on speaker?”
“You were nevernoton speaker, Wyatt,” Taylor hollers into the phone.
I groan. “This was a bad idea. I should tell Lucy the plans have changed, and I have decided to spend the night at a bar or something, trying to find new friends.”
Taylor laughs and Alex snorts. “You hate bars, and you know you’ll never find two people who love you more than us, anyways. We are like foot fungus . . .”
“. . . you’ve been around too long to get rid of without medical attention. I know.” I sigh.
He’s right anyway. Alex and Taylor are two of my favorite people in the world, right behind my sister and dad. Still, sometimes it’s just inconvenient having friends who know you so well.
“We’ll see you in a few hours, Wyatt,” Taylor calls.
“See you then.”
I hang up and toss my phone on my nightstand. I look at the ceiling, and I can almost feel the quietness in my house. I get up and turn my fan on, taking off my jeans and T-shirt before lying back on my bed. I have stayed here by myself for the better part of the last two years, since Willa graduated high school and started college. Most of the time, I’m fine. I enjoy the quiet. But sometimes, like right now, the quiet feels a lot more like a cage than a comfort. I sigh and roll onto my side, closing my eyes. Maybe I should get a dog.
I make a mental note to go up to the shelter tomorrow.
Yeah, a dog will fix all my problems.
Chapter Nine
Lucy
Wyatt’shouseishuge.I mean, my dad was a doctor and my mom worked at a bank part- time most of my life, so, we are well off. We have, what most people would consider, a big house—four bedrooms, three and a half baths on an acre in a nice subdivision with a pool in the backyard.
However, those people would lose their minds over Wyatt’s house.
It’s a white farmhouse—two stories—with a wraparound porch. It’s got navy shutters and a beautiful oak door. I can see a barn in the distance behind it, and the air smells fresher out here somehow. Wyatt’s truck is parked in the gravel driveway, so I pull up beside it, even though it’s almost six-thirty and no other cars are here. I get out of my car and start walking up the front steps and knock. I wait a few minutes, but nothing happens.
I knock again, but still nothing.
Did I get the wrong time? The wrong day?
I reach in my bag and pull out my phone. I go to my recent calls and click Wyatt’s name.
“Hello?” he answers on the fourth ring. He’s normally a first ring kind of guy.
“Um, hi. Are you . . . are you okay?”
“Lucy?” He sounds funny, almost groggy. I’ve never heard him sound like this.
