Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1) (14 page)

My fingers tightened against his hand. “I don’t believe anyone is a lost cause.”

“I know you like to help people and you keep coming back here, trying to help me,” he muttered. “But you should just give up. I’m the worst possible guy you could find.”

The air from his spoken words brushed across my skin. He was so close, but so far away in his mental anguish. “I don’t think that’s true. When I look at you? I don’t see a bad person.”

“I know.”

“You can trust me. I hope you realize that by now.”

“I do trust you, Emma.” His breath touched my skin as he talked. “It’s myself that I don’t trust.”

“But I trust you,” I whispered.

“I know,” he whispered back in that gravelly voice. “I see the trust in your eyes. And it scares me.”

Hearing his painful admission, I wanted to touch more than just his hand. This thing between us grew stronger with each breath, pulling me closer. His eyes grazed over my lips and then jerked back up. It was there again, the guilty look of desire. He was ashamed of having those thoughts.

I wanted him to know it wasn’t wrong. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to feel his soft lips against mine.
Maybe I should just lean forward and make it happen
. Make that connection between us real. Make him feel something other than the pain. I closed the few inches between us. Wyatt turned his head right before we touched.

“Don’t,” he growled.

“I-I don’t understand. I thought—” I stopped as his face twisted up again and he let go of my hand.

“If a guy wants to kiss you, he will. So don’t force it.”

“So you don’t want to kiss me,” I whispered.

“I didn’t say that.”

“I don’t understand.”

Wyatt looked at me as the internal struggle danced around in his troubled soul. “I shouldn’t want to kiss you.”

“So you
do
want to kiss me?” I asked, seeing the pain etched in permanent lines around his eyes. A burning pain that was now burning me. It burned inside my chest, drawing me closer to his body. His breathing got a little stronger. I didn’t need to see his chest going up and down to know how much this was affecting him.

“You think you want to know all about me. You don’t, Emma.” His emotions grated on the words. “And if I told you the truth? You wouldn’t like the fact that I wanted to kiss you.”

“I doubt that.” I reached up, touching the side of his face. Wyatt’s eyes closed for a moment as my fingers trailed over his cheeks, tracing those lines of pain.

He was haunting. He was beautiful, pulling me down into the pit of his broken heart. I felt something strong and powerful, holding onto my soul.

My fingers traced his jaw. I stopped on the spot where his hidden dimples stayed just beneath the surface. I was drawn to him like a Band-Aid to a cut. I wanted to touch him, fix him, and make him better.

As if my thoughts were spoken out loud, Wyatt’s green eyes flipped open. He grabbed my hand, removing it from his skin. His complicated thoughts swirled around on his face as he clutched my fingers tight in his palm. Wyatt was fighting some internal battle. He was fighting, and the demons were winning.

“Let’s get out of here for a while.” I felt the rush as I asked him to run away with me. “Go somewhere. Anywhere. Come with me?”

His fingers stilled on my hand. Wyatt refused to look in my direction as he muttered the words. “I . . . um. That’s not a good idea right now.”

“Okay. Then I’ll stay with you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“When you leave here”—his eyes grew a little sad as the words slipped from his lips—“where do you go?”

“It depends. Today is Thursday. So I’m picking my sister up and we are having dinner at my parents’ house over in Beckett.”

He let out a deep breath. “Do you have a nice family?”

“They’re not perfect. My sister is . . . um . . . odd. But yes. I have a nice family.”

“Do you have dinner with them every Thursday? Like a family thing?”

“Yes,” I answered. “And you can come if you want.”

He flinched at the suggestion and continued with his questions. “Your twin sister. Does she worry about you coming here?”

“She does,” I muttered.

“Then you need to go back home to them. It might not be a perfect family, but I’m sure they love you. You need to go have dinner with them and leave me alone.”

“But I don’t think I should leave you alone right now.”

“You’re going to skip a family thing for some strange guy who lives in the woods with fifty dogs. This place is not normal.
I’m
not normal
. Don’t you understand that by now?” He pleaded in desperation. “Please just leave, Emma. Go home to your family.”

“No. Don’t say that, Wyatt. I don’t—”

“You’re in over your head and you’re too naïve to know it.”

“I’m twenty-one, Wyatt. A grownup. I work two jobs. I pay my own rent. I buy my own clothes. You act like I’m some innocent girl who can’t make decisions.”

“I think we have different definitions of innocent. You should leave. Forget about this. Forget about me.”

“How can I forget about you? I-I’ve never felt something like this before. And I know you feel it too.”

He dropped my hand when I said it. Fear came in waves over his cheeks as my words scared him to the core.

Looking down at Gatsby, the dog remained in some catatonic trance across his lap. Wyatt scooped him up under his arms. The brown animal must have weighed at least eighty pounds, but he balanced the dog with little effort as he stood up in the kennel. I’d waited this whole conversation for Wyatt to storm off to the trailer. Then he left through the building with Gatsby in his arms.

I sat inside the kennel for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. This thing with Wyatt was deep and strange and intense. Something beyond my control had decided I was the person who should help Wyatt Caulfield. Something bigger than either of us. And I couldn’t give up on him.

Standing up, I walked down the aisle of sad faces. They barked and whined as I passed the kennels. This place required a heart of steel in order to walk away, and mine was all mush. I found Wyatt, struggling with the door handle of his trailer. Just seeing him again melted my heart right on the spot.

“Let me get it.” Hearing my words, he gave me an angry glare. “Don’t be like this. Just let me get the door for you.”

His nostrils flared up a bit before he moved off the cement steps. Wyatt flattened his lips into a thin line as I helped him inside the trailer.

“There’s a blanket in the closet by the bathroom,” his gravelly voice muttered.

I found an old plaid blanket on the top shelf. I struggled to reach it with my short arms. Jumping up, I snagged the edge, pulling it down on top of my head. I dug myself out from the giant plaid quilt. Turning around, I saw a faint smile on Wyatt’s lips as he watched me. A faint smile that was racked in guilt. Why did he feel so awful about having feelings for me?

I walked over in front of his bookcase, making a pallet on the floor. He put Gatsby down. The dog’s sad eyes never even looked up at us.

“Maybe he’ll do better in here,” I said.

“Maybe.”

Gus came into the living room and stopped in front of Gatsby. They sniffed each other before Gus curled up next to the old dog. My throat got a little achy with emotion. “Did you know he would do that?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “It’s why Gus is here.”

“For them or for you?”

His throat moved as he swallowed. It bothered him. The question was too close. He didn’t need to respond. I already knew the answer. Maybe I just wanted to hear him say it. Wyatt walked over to the door and opened it. “Goodbye, Emma.”

I refused to give in to his dismissal. My flip-flops clicked as I made my exit, but I stopped right in front of Wyatt before I left. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

His chin titled down a bit to look into my eyes. “Okay.”

The sparks picked up between us, pulling me to Wyatt. I studied his lips, so soft and pink. He would kiss me one day. He would kiss me, and my body would melt from the feel of those lips.

“Monday, okay?” I waited to see if he would protest again. “It might be later in the evening after I get off work.”

“That’s fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll be here.”

“I know.” I let out a deep breath. Leaving the trailer, I walked toward my car, feeling the faint touch of summer rain as it fell from the sky. Each drop sizzled in the hot air before reaching the ground. The heavy scent lingered without a downpour of rain. A promise of what never happened.

I looked over my shoulder, knowing Wyatt would still be standing in the doorway. His guilty stare followed me all the way to my white car.

I
T WAS WEDNESDAY BEFORE I
could get back out to the kennel. I’d ended up working a double shift at the bookstore on both Monday and Tuesday. Then today, I stayed ten hours at the nursing home. I’d planned to cut out right after my shift, but Vera begged me to try the passion fruit tea she’d received from her granddaughter. I’d stayed for several hours, making it after eight by the time I got to Wyatt’s trailer.

As I pulled through the silver gate, the old cow skulls glowed eerily under the moonlight. I’d worried about him. I swear, I’d worried about him every second of every day while I was eating and in the shower and sipping tea at the nursing home.

As I walked up the cement steps, my nerves sparked a little, remembering my last visit. Wyatt had been so troubled with his eyes cloaked in broken shadows. And just as he allowed me to get a little closer, he had tried to push me away again.

One of these days, Wyatt might just throw me out for good. And I wasn’t sure if I could take it. I was invested in him. I was haunted by him. I had feelings for the most unattainable person alive. Somewhere along the way, his broken eyes had dug a little hole in my heart.

Knocking on the door, I waited for Wyatt to let me inside his home. The sky was open and clear tonight. It was beautiful. I would make him leave the gloomy trailer and come outside for some air. I knocked on the door again. Twisting the knob, I stuck my head inside. “Wyatt? You in here?”

Gus and Gatsby came from his bedroom. I scratched them both on the head. Gatsby seemed better. Actually, he seemed ten times better. The brown dog had been a heap on the floor since he’d arrived. This didn’t even seem like the same Gatsby. I heard a noise coming from the bedroom. “Wyatt?”

I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to just barge into his bedroom. I hesitated as my mind slipped through a few scenarios that might be waiting around the corner.

Wyatt would be angry if I invaded his personal space while he was wearing a towel. I wasn’t sure why I went to the idea that he was in a towel, but that’s where my thoughts stopped. I really couldn’t just go into his bedroom once I’d decided he was naked, wearing just a towel. I waited a moment longer for Wyatt to come into the living room.

“Wyatt?” I tried to stand still on the brown shaggy carpet, but my impatience slipped into fidgeting. I finally gave up and poked my head around the corner, only to find Wyatt sprawled across his bed, wearing clothes. The sheets were tangled up in every direction around his body. I walked slowly over to the side of the bed, but he didn’t move.

“Hey,” I whispered. “Are you okay?”

At the sound of my voice, Wyatt rolled over. He blinked a few times, trying to adjust his vision. “Emma?”

Wyatt seemed confused. His hollow, sunken eyes stared at me, trying to determine if I were real or a figment of his imagination. His T-shirt was soaked in sweat. I sat down on the edge of the bed. “Are you sick?”

“I-I don’t know.” He swallowed hard, closing his eyes. Wyatt seemed vulnerable and weak.

“How long have you been like this?” I put my hand against his forehead. The heat burned into my skin. “You’ve got a fever. I think you should go to urgent care. Let me help you to my car.”

“
No!
” Wyatt’s eyes flipped open fast. He grabbed my wrist, removing my hand from his forehead. “No doctor.”

I was ready to fight him on it, but Wyatt seemed to be on the verge of some sort of panic attack just by suggesting a doctor. “Okay. I won’t take you to urgent care.”