Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1) (38 page)

“Did you do what I asked?” he muttered.

“You’ve asked me to do exactly one thing since you got here. So what do you think?”

“Stop dragging this out. Just tell me.” His deep voice cracked with anguish. “Did you see him?”

My breath caught as I waited for her to speak again. “Yes, I went to see Marcus, which was difficult because it’s not like he gets around much on his own. He’s got a whole hen’s nest around him.”

My stomach caught, hearing the name Marcus and the implication of the words.

“But you got him alone and you told him?”

“I did. And he gave me something.”

I heard Diana’s shoes on the cement as she walked closer to Wyatt, but I couldn’t see the exchange. The sound of crinkled paper drifted out to my hiding spot, and I realized it was a note. I could only imagine the way his heart must be breaking right now—the torment wrestling around in his chest. I had no idea if the words were scribbled in compassion or anger toward Wyatt. I had no idea how his friend really felt toward him—the same friend who had just gotten
married
while trapped in a wheelchair.

I let out the breath I was holding. Maybe it was better if I got Gatsby loaded up with Diana and she left. Maybe it would be better for me to handle his potential wave of debilitating depression without her at the kennel.

W
E STOOD SIDE BY SIDE
, watching Diana drive away with Gatsby. The old guy was riding shotgun in the front seat of the truck on his way to a new home. Wyatt never said much as we loaded the dog. Right before we shut the door, I’d slipped away and talked to Diana, giving him a moment with Gatsby.

As the truck disappeared into the white fog, I felt Wyatt’s presence next to me as he slowly morphed into a statue. I stepped in front of him, and he gazed down at me. I knew his looks at this point—the happy and the sad, and the tormented, and the one that said, “I just want to disappear into a hole and slowly die.” Yeah, Wyatt had that one too. I didn’t see it very often, but it terrified every piece of me when it surfaced.

Today conveyed a mix of every feeling as his firm jaw hung in defeat. The news from the outside world had brought the gray clouds with it, which made me question how I should approach the information I’d learned by eavesdropping. I wasn’t sure if I should bring up Marcus or just let him eventually tell me on his own. It didn’t take long for Wyatt to come to a conclusion. His eyes stayed glued to mine as he fished inside his front jeans pocket, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. He shoved it roughly into my hand as I stood there.

“You might as well read it,” he mumbled. “I know you were outside the door when Diana gave it to me.”

I swallowed hard, glancing down at a program from a Sunday church service. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry, Wyatt.”

“It’s okay. I would have eventually told you anyway.”

Defeat rang so loud in the air that my heart clenched in my chest. I reached up, touching the side of his face. Wyatt closed his eyes for a moment, resting his cheek against my hand. Turning his head ever so slightly, he kissed the inside of my palm.

“What did you ask Diana to do for you?” I whispered.

His eyes flipped open, letting his gaze settle on me. He took my hand, pulling me over to the steps. We sat down on the small landing at the top, leaning back against the door with his arm around me. I rested my head against his chest as the fog thickened around us.

“A couple of weeks ago, Diana told me that Marcus and Zoey were getting married.” His raspy voice was low, and I turned my head up slightly to hear him better.

“So she stayed with him after the accident?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “She’s his nurse and all that shit. Zoey doesn’t really like me very much. Hates my guts, actually. She yelled it at me in the hospital lobby.”

“Oh.”

“And after I told you about my last attempt to talk to Marcus, I got to thinking. I just wanted him to know. I
needed
him to hear the words even if I couldn’t say them myself.”

“Know what?” I whispered.

“That I’m sorry.” He swallowed hard. “The guy got married in a damn wheelchair. And she has to take care of him. Forever. I just wanted Marcus to know I was sorry.”

My mind drew a vivid and sad picture of the couple I’d never met, at the altar—there without the best man. Because even though Wyatt didn’t say the words, that part must have hurt too.

Looking down at my hands, I slowly unfolded the Sunday school program. I saw the black pen marks in the margins.

“Wish you were here, Carter. I’m okay. Don’t blame yourself. Not your fault. —M”

“Diana only got a couple of minutes with him before the wedding,” he muttered. “He must have grabbed that off the table or something at the church.”

“He doesn’t blame you,” I whispered, feeling the burning knot in my throat.

“I know. But how is that supposed to make me feel? Should I feel angry that
he’s
not angry? Or should I feel relieved? And if I feel relieved, what kind of person does that make me?”

I nodded, understanding the cobwebs that circled around every thought in Wyatt’s head. One thing always meant another and so on until he drove himself crazy.

“If you wanted Marcus to know that you are sorry, then you have to accept the fact that he forgives you. Or maybe he never did blame you. Either of you could’ve been the driver that night. Have you ever thought about that? Maybe he feels guilty too. For the accident. For his father’s determination to destroy you. Maybe he feels just as bad as you.”

The silence carried for what felt like an eternity as the ghosts of the past floated around in the foggy mist. I folded the program back up, holding it tightly in my hand as I rested my head against his chest again.

“You’re right,” his voice cracked. Wyatt’s arms crushed me against his body. A tear fell down my cheek as the emotions ran strong between us. I was his strength, his hope, and sometimes his voice of reason that talked him off a cliff.

“We should go for a run,” I muttered against his shirt. “It will make you feel better.”

“I think it’s drizzling rain.”

“Nah.” I looked up at him, seeing the redness around his eyes and nose. “It’s been like this all day. Gus is alone in there now without Gatsby. Let’s take him and Charlie out for a quick run. I’ll get my running shoes out of the car.”

“Okay.” He let out a deep breath. “Let me go change. I’ll meet you in the kennel.”

It didn’t take long for Wyatt to change from his boots and jeans into running shoes and old sweatpants. He checked on Gator, but the new arrival was still passed out on the floor from the tranquilizers.

We started out slowly, letting me get used to the pace. I was completely fine, but it made Wyatt feel better. This wasn’t our first run with the dogs. After I’d suggested it a few weeks ago, he ditched his carefully executed running plan every morning. Instead, he went several times a day, taking different dogs for short runs through the tall grass until he started wearing down a new path in the dirt.

“You okay?” he called over to me as Gus pulled tight on the leash. His excitement for running might have overtaken his tennis ball addiction.

The cold northern wind picked up, hitting me in the face. “I’m good. You?”

“Better.” He didn’t have a smile, but it was close. I caught him watching me from the corner of his eye. He didn’t have to tell me how he felt in a bunch of flowery words or take me on some fancy date. A simple look from Wyatt carried the weight of a hundred gifts. Just like I knew in the very beginning of my visits here—he didn’t just hand those looks out to everyone. I knew Wyatt reserved them for me and only me.

The first drop hit me on the nose. And then five more on the forehead.

“It’s raining,” I gasped.

“Time for a sprint.” He scooped up Gus under his armpit. I grabbed Charlie as he tried to lick the drops from my cheek. I ran fast, pushing my body to the limit. But it didn’t matter. The sky opened with the buckets of water it had threatened to spill all day—and not the sexy and warm stuff from the summer. This was a brisling fall rain that sent chills all the way to the core.

By the time we reached the kennel, I was out of breath and shivering. And Wyatt was laughing as we stumbled inside the door, carrying the dogs.

“This is not funny.” I smiled at him.

“Would you rather I laugh or say I told you so?”

“Laugh.” I was kidding, but for some reason the words came out almost serious as the reality of the moment hit me hard in the chest. He was better. At least for the moment as our wet clothes froze our skin.

He paused, holding my gaze. The storm picked up outside. He spoke, but the sound of the rain hitting the building drowned out his voice.

“What?” I yelled.

He leaned in close to my ear as drops of water dripped from his hair and onto my cheek. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being you.”

I gave him a quick kiss, feeling the coldness of his lips before I pulled away. We took the shivering dogs into the office and grabbed a couple of towels. They both had short hair so it didn’t take long to clean them up.

I put Charlie in the kennel. As I shut the gate, I watched the little dog make five circles in his bed before burrowing down in the warmth. When I returned to the front of the building, Wyatt was standing with the door open, watching the downpour. He had Gus wrapped in a raincoat so he didn’t get wet again.

“You ready to make a run for it?”

“I don’t see how I could get any more soaked.”

“You go first.” He moved to the side so I could run through the door. The cold drops shocked my skin as I made a beeline to the trailer. I ran inside, hearing Wyatt come up behind me. He shut the door and unwrapped Gus from inside the bundle. The dog trotted off to the bedroom to get in his warm bed just like Charlie.

“I don’t think one single piece of you is dry.” His eyes drifted over my body. “I’ll get you something to wear.”

“Okay. I probably should get started on my paper,” I said, following him into his bedroom.

“That’s right. You were going to write a paper when you got here. Sorry for all the distractions.”

“It’s okay.”

Opening his dresser drawer, Wyatt pulled a long-sleeved shirt and sweatpants from the carefully folded piles of clothes. I laughed as he held up the gray pants. “I’m going to need a belt to keep them up.”

“I’ve got some duct tape in the kitchen. I could just tape them to you.”

“Haha.” I rolled my eyes, taking the clothes from him. I disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. Turning on the shower, I waited for the steam to fill the room. I just wanted to feel the warm water for a moment to get rid of the chill from the rain.

I rinsed off, wishing I could sit under the spray for hours instead of working on my paper. Climbing out, I grabbed the towel next to the tub since I’d forgotten to get one from the meticulously folded pile in the closet.

I did my best to get the water out of my hair until it was only damp. Burying my face down into the soft fabric, the overwhelming smell of Wyatt filled my nose and my thoughts. Glancing at the door, I felt a nervous idea forming in my head.