Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1) (32 page)

“Thank you,” I muttered.

He grabbed several bags and followed behind me to the stairs. “Sure is a lot food for a little thing like you.”

And here we go. “I grocery shop for other people.”

“You buying stuff for someone besides that old man up there? Got someone stuffed in that apartment with you? That’s against your lease, you know.”

He stayed close on my heels as I went slowly up the stairs. “Yes, Kurt. Blaire and I have an entire motorcycle gang living with us in our apartment. Do you charge by the person or by the night or by the hour?”

He snorted. “I might have to check that shit out, you know. I’d like to see that weird sister of yours wrapped up with some biker.”

I didn’t mean to laugh, but the idea sounded pretty funny to me too. I was still chuckling as Blaire opened the door and quickly moved out of the way as we came inside the apartment together. She eyed Kurt, shooting daggers as he set the bags on the counter.

“I . . . um . . . thanks for the help.” I gave a quick dismissal to our apartment manager, feeling suddenly aware of him inside our home.

“All right. I’ll get out of your way.”

Neither of us spoke as he walked toward the door. As soon as it shut, Blaire ran over and clicked the deadbolt. Not that it mattered. The guy had a key.

“What was that about? You were laughing with him.” She plopped down on the couch, watching me unpack the groceries. Her blue crocheted hat covered the top part of her fuzzy hair while the rest hung in clumps around her shoulders.

“I don’t know. Kurt’s been decent lately, and he offered to help me.”

“Hmm.” She smirked. “He’s just happy that you didn’t turn him into the police.”

I stopped mid-sack with a can of green beans in my hand. “For the last time. Kurt didn’t push me down the stairs.”

“Riiight.” She pulled her computer off the couch cushion and placed it in her lap. I stood there for a moment, watching her type while my fingers tightened around the can.

I walked over in front of her. “I’m tired of you implying that I’m some idiot who let a guy push her down the stairs.”

“I didn’t say you were an idiot. I just think you are oblivious sometimes. And I have to be aware of things for the both of us.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“Really? Let’s see. You have Kurt thinking his behavior is okay and he’s going to start getting close to you again, little by little, until something else happens. Or maybe you get knocked up by Wyatt. Maybe that will happen first. You don’t think twice about that kind of stuff. You’d do anything to help him. But how will he help
you
with a baby? The guy is stuck out there in some shit-hole with a court-mandated ankle monitor while you flitter around him.”

“That’s enough, Blaire.” I felt a flash of true anger at my sister. “Wyatt is not going to get me pregnant and then abandon me.”

“It only takes once, Emma. And we all know how you get too comfortable with things. It’s how you
fell
down the stairs.”

I struggled to keep my patience by picturing a deserted island with a single palm tree. My feet walked through the sand as the tide washed up around me. But then Blaire appeared out of nowhere—our internal twin connection, bringing her along to my peaceful retreat. So I imagined the palm tree falling on her.

The thought startled me back to reality. I just mentally crushed my sister with a tree. Letting out a deep breath, I clenched the can tighter in my palm. “I’m safe, Blaire. Nothing is going to happen to me. You don’t have to get so worried.”

“Whatever. Your ability to be oblivious to the world is going to catch up to you one day.” She mumbled something under her breath that sounded like, “And I’m not taking care of some baby.”

She fiddled with her laptop while I continued to stand in front of her. I guess that was her way of dismissing me back to unloading
our
groceries. Blaire typed something quickly, cutting her eyes up at me. “
What?
”

I leaned over the top of the screen to see why my continued presence seemed to agitate her. “What are you doing?”

The lid slammed closed, almost hitting me in the nose on the way down. Her eyes were level with mine as we stared at each other. “None of your damn business.”

“But my life is yours?”

“Forget I even said anything.” Blaire jumped up from the couch, grabbing her laptop. “You always do whatever the hell you want anyway—regardless of what I say. So just continue to live in your bubble with the birds chirping around you while you skip through the forest. Oh, wait. That would be some nasty dirt road in the woods to see a convict.”

My jaw hung open a little as Blaire and her irrational thoughts stormed off to her bedroom—and mine went to Wyatt. I wasn’t wrong about my relationship with him. I was good for him. He needed me, and helping people was the right thing to do. I knew without a shadow of a doubt I was supposed to save him. Because he needed saving more than any person I had ever met.

And besides, that part of our relationship had not changed. Wyatt always kept himself in check while in the trailer, even though it turned into something else when he walked me to my car. Sometimes it took five minutes to leave and sometimes it took thirty as he pressed me against the car door.

I guess it made him feel safer if he touched me in the driveway rather than on his couch. Either way, I think the impending loneliness triggered the desperate moments from him. The more he thought about me leaving, the more he clung to my skin and my lips.

Going back into the kitchen, I separated the groceries out, making a sack to take to his house. After his terrible day, I knew Wyatt needed me tonight for nothing more than my physical presence as I slept next to him.

I had yet to tell Wyatt that I loved him. Sometimes I wanted to share the depth of my feelings as a way to comfort him. And sometimes the words almost slipped out as his lips rubbed over my skin. But I knew those feelings needed to be reserved for the right time—when he was ready, when I knew Wyatt wouldn’t lash out.

Our conversations were never angry or hurtful, but I’d never said those significant words. Saying “I love you” might make Wyatt kiss me, scream, and yell, or just break down crying.

I’d seen him cry twice on those random nights when I’d slept beside him. Once he’d shaken the bed as his shoulders clinched up in some muscle convulsion. And the other time, it had been in silence as hot tears ran down his cheeks, leaving giant wet spots on the pillow. Honestly, I’m not sure if Wyatt was even aware of the episodes. And that bothered me more than if he’d just broken down in front of me.

I gathered up the two sacks for Mr. Hughes and the one for Wyatt. I slammed the front door hard behind me, making sure Blaire knew I was headed to Wyatt’s trailer
again
.

I
SHIFTED AROUND ON HIS
couch, trying to get comfortable. I had chemistry homework strung out across the cushions and the coffee table. Sometimes it was either a choice of visiting Wyatt or doing equations. So I started combining them into one and the same. He usually disappeared outside when I brought my backpack, poking his head back inside the door ever so often to check on me.

And right on cue, the aluminum door cracked open and I saw his brown head look around the corner. He smiled at my obvious frustration.

“Still not going good?” he asked, coming into the living room and sitting down in his old chair.

“Uh, no. Are you sure you know nothing about chemistry?”

“Positive.”

I fussed with the question a little longer, applying my eraser more than the lead. Glancing up, his gaze was still on me. He grinned, letting his dimples burn into his cheeks.

I play-frowned at his flirting. “I can’t concentrate with you staring at me. I have to get this done before my study group tonight.”

“Why do you have to take chemistry anyway?”

“Because I’m applying to a program that requires it.” Sometimes he asked me questions about my classes, and I wondered if he missed school. Or maybe he associated all of his time there as the
unapologetically sad
guy.

I leaned back against the cushion. “Do you ever think about going back to school?”

“I don’t know.” His voice grated slightly on the words as his smile faded.

“You finished three semesters, right?”

“Yeah.” He looked down at the floor.

“Did you have a major?”

He shrugged. “Not really.”

“Oh.” I figured it was best to let this one go. I turned my attention back to the equation. One more eraser mark, and I would have a hole in the paper.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Wyatt get up from the chair. He went into the kitchen, opening the cabinet to retrieve two mugs. Pushing the Folgers container over to the side, he grabbed my bag of fancy hazelnut coffee. I smiled to myself, seeing what he was doing.

I went back to making a hole in my paper as the room filled with the smell of the dark brew. Hearing a slight clinking noise, I sneaked another glace over to the kitchen. Wyatt was carefully stirring my container of liquid creamer into
both
cups. I had to bite the side of my cheek to keep from laughing. I knew he liked that stuff.

As he turned around, I looked quickly back down at my paper. I didn’t want Wyatt to know I’d been watching him.

“Come on. Break time.” He gestured toward the door. Gus and Gatsby beat me to it. I crawled off the couch, feeling the ache in my leg. I had sat there, twisted up like a pretzel, for over two hours.

Wyatt sat down on the small steps, and I squished in beside him, feeling my right hip smash against his. Summer had ended several weeks ago, and the chill of the fall breeze blew through the air. I snuggled closer to the side of his body since I didn’t wear a jacket outside.

Handing me one of the cups, Wyatt put his left arm around my shoulders, pulling me tighter against his warm sweatshirt. I sipped on the sweet coffee. A wet nose pushed at my leg. I reached down, taking the tennis ball from Gus, tossing it out in the dirt driveway. He ran like a flash of lightning, and returned with it clamped between his teeth before I could even take another sip.

Wyatt chuckled beside me. “Remember, you started it.”

“How can I say no to him?”

“Well, he’s an addict, and tennis balls are his crack.”

“That’s because you spend all your time out in the kennel with the others.”

“That’s not true. Besides, he sleeps with me. What more does he need?” Wyatt pushed his nose into the side of my hair, letting his lips hover before pressing a warm kiss against my neck. His mouth moved an inch lower as the electric energy seemed to pick up between us.

So I nudged him a bit. “You should take Gus running with you instead of going by yourself in the mornings.”

He let out a deep breath, and my body soaked up the warmth as it drifted over my skin. “You know why I go alone.”

“Just think about it.” I tossed the ball again, putting my full arm into the throw so it bounced across the dirt and into the grass. I gave Gatsby a scratch on top of the head. His old body was stretched out on the ground next to the stairs, completely oblivious to Gus and his addiction.

“Okay,” Wyatt finally muttered. Sometimes he just needed a small push to see things a little differently.

Taking another sip, the hot liquid rolled down my throat. I leaned over, letting my head rest against his shoulder. “Thank you for the coffee. I needed this.”

Wyatt’s hand moved down my back and held onto the side of my waist. He pulled me even tighter to his body, placing another kiss just below my ear. Reaching down, I set my cup on the step below us. I circled my arms around his stomach, burying my face into his chest. My nose filled with the scent of laundry detergent and the soap he’d used in the shower.

Gus nudged at our legs with the yellow ball. Wyatt’s chest moved a little as he laughed. “Told you.”

He threw it this time, jostling me a little in the process. I loved these moments with Wyatt. So simple and peaceful. Maybe I really didn’t need all of that other stuff that went along with dating. Maybe I told the truth when I said it was overrated. Wyatt and I didn’t need the rest of the world. Except that wasn’t the truth. I still saw the outside world every day, and he didn’t see anything but here.