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Of course he’s here. He’s always here when I’m falling apart. Wyatt’s boots appear in front of me, and he squats down in front of me, gently pulling my hands from my face.
“Lucy, what’s going on? What happened?”
I let him pull me into his arms and I let him hold me as the dam breaks inside me.
Chapter Eighteen
Wyatt
Idon’tknowwhatto do.
She’s in my arms, but she’s breaking and I don’t know how to stop it and it’s killing me.
“Lucy, please talk to me. What do you need?”
She sniffs and holds me tighter. “Just hold me, okay?”
Her voice is so broken. She has never seemed this fragile, not even on the day of her dad’s funeral. And I don’t know what happened, but I feel like I have to do something,anything. So I hold her. I rub her back and brush my fingers through her hair and I whisper soothing words. I ease us down to the ground and lean my back against the headstone. She’s in my lap now, her head buried in my chest. I can’t imagine what someone would say if they wandered up on us right now, but I don’t care.
After a few minutes her shoulders stop shaking as heavily. Her breathing regulates and she lifts her head, and my heart cracks wide open.
Her eyes are bright and red-rimmed. Her cheeks are tear-stained and flushed. I reach out and take her face in my hands, brushing away the stray tears with my thumbs. I press my forehead to hers and stare at her, even though we’re so close her features are blurry.
“He put the beach house in my name,” she whispers.
“What?”
“We have a house on Oak Island and we got a letter in the mail today saying there was damage done to it from the last hurricane. They can’t do the repairs without the owner’s written approval. And apparently, that owner isme. Dad had it put in my name almost three years ago.”
“And he never told you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he didn’t want to tell me until he also informed me I shouldn’t go to medical school.”
I blink and lean my head back, wiping away a few fresh tears.
“What?”
She sighs heavily and leans her head down to my shoulder.
“It’s a long story,” she says.
I wrap my arms around her again and kiss the top of her head. “I’ve got time.”
So she tells me everything. And my heart cracks open again.
“What are you going to do?” I ask when she’s done.
She leans back and shrugs. “I don’t know. I . . . I guess I should go down there and assess the damage and sign the documents.”
“Do you think you can get off work?”
“I have two weeks of vacation time. I can use a few days of it to get everything sorted.”
“Will your mom go with you?”
