AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yes?”
“Wha-what time is it?”
“Six- thirty.”
“Crap. Crap!”
“Is everything okay?” I ask again, starting to feel nervous.
“Yes, I just decided it would be a good idea to take a nap for the first time in probably four years and my body apparently thought we were just going to sleep for the night.”
“Oh.” I sigh, relieved. “I thought I had the time wrong, or that plans had changed, and you forgot to tell me or . . .”
“Nothing like that, I’m just an idiot. Wait, where are you?”
“Um, at your front door?”
“Crap!”
The line goes dead, and I stare at my phone, confused. A few minutes later I hear shuffling and muttering and then the door swings open. Wyatt’s standing in front of me, his hair adorably disheveled, in a slightly wrinkled T-shirt and jeans.
“Hi,” I say lamely.
He looks at me, blinking slowly.
“Hi. You’re . . . wearing my sweatshirt.”
I look down at myself, suddenly regretting my clothing decisions. I’m in, yes, his sweatshirt, with one of my own T-shirts underneath it, and a pair of leggings and socks with my Birkenstocks. My hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail. I shuffle my feet awkwardly and grip the strap of my purse.
“Um, yes. I wore it in case you wanted it back, I forgot I was still wearing it the last time we hung out, when you dropped me off, so I thought I’d wear it over here and give it back to you.” I wonder if he can tell I’m lying.
He smirks at me a little and opens the door wider, waving me into his house.
“It’s okay, you keep it. I haven’t worn that sweatshirt in years. Plus, it looks a lot better on you then it ever did on me.”
I blush and look around. His house feels so . . . cozy. There’s a little hallway with an entry table and a bench. There are a few sets of cowboy boots lined neatly under the bench and hats and jackets up on a hanging rack. I follow Wyatt further into the house and there’s a big kitchen to my right with an island and stools and an adorable dining nook in front of big windows. It’s the kitchen of my dreams honestly. To the left is an equally big living room with a gray sectional and huge TV, and there are family pictures everywhere.
Down the hall directly in front of me are huge oak steps that, I’m assuming, lead upstairs to the bedrooms.
“Your house is beautiful,” I say.
Wyatt is standing behind me, leaning against the entryway between the hallway and the living room. His arms are crossed over his chest, and he smiles lazily.
“Thanks. My dad built it for my mom before they got married.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s family land, been in Dad’s family for as far back as we can track, but the old house that was on it was pretty much dilapidated. The foundation had been solid though, so whenever my dad met my mom, he tore down the old house and started building this one. By the time they got married, he’d had it mostly built. And, a few years later when I came along, it was complete.”
I shook my head, smiling. “You didn’t tell me your parents had aNotebookstory kind of love.”
Wyatt shrugs and runs a hand through his hair, looking away from me and toward the living room.
“Nah, their love was more than that. It’s the kind that lasts lifetimes. Or should have, at least.”
The pain in his eyes when he says those words makes my heart squeeze up. I lean against the doorframe across from him, my hands pressing the wall behind me and my head leaning back.
“You live here alone?” I ask.
