Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1) (42 page)

Wyatt never paused as he climbed on the couch. I sucked in a sharp breath, feeling him press inside of me. And then we were together, bound in a haze of gasps and moans. Wyatt clutched my body, moving faster with every push of his hips.

“I just don’t feel like I can get close enough to you.” His words came in short breaths against my neck.

Yet I felt every bit of his closeness. He was inside of me and outside of me. I gasped as he pushed himself deeper and deeper until he pushed me right to the edge. My thoughts blurred as I sought what only Wyatt could give me: a melding of our hearts and bodies and souls. And then I crashed. My eyes closed, letting the world disappear into suspended time. I felt utterly and completely happy. I loved him. And I knew he loved me too.

Wyatt continued to rock into me, over and over again, and then he stilled, wrapping his fingers into my hair as a low groan escaped his lips. We held onto each other until the silence of the trailer came back into focus. Yet he still didn’t let go, gripping my bare skin tightly beneath him. If it were possible, I think Wyatt would’ve buried himself inside my body and soul forever.

He eventually pulled the blanket from the back of the couch, draping it over our sweaty bodies as we shifted ourselves around into spooning on the scratchy cushions. Wyatt circled his arms around me, snuggling his face up against my hair. His lips briefly kissed my neck.

We didn’t speak, not even after the darkness enveloped the trailer. I knew Wyatt was awake, processing the emotions of seeing his family today. I let him work through the thoughts in silence. Sometimes he needed a push and sometimes he just needed to hold on to me. I closed my eyes, listening to his soft breaths until he finally rested his lips against my ear.

“I want to tell you something,” he murmured.

“Okay.”

It took a moment before he found the words. “I have nightmares sometimes. The really graphic stuff. It’s all crazy shit that isn’t real. But when I’m asleep, it feels so real.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I’ve heard you before in your sleep.”

“I figured, but I don’t have them as often anymore. Not since you. And sometimes I have different dreams. And they mess me up in a different way.”

“Why?”

He let out a deep breath that warmed my skin. His fingers trailed over my stomach, making little circles around my belly button. “Because they are about you and me. I see us on the other side of this. I see us in a real house, walking down the street, going to stores and dinner and movies. I see us together, laughing like there’s nothing holding us back. I see us hanging out with your sister. Meeting your parents. Having this normal life. Having a future. And I want it, just as much as I
hate
it.”

His words made my heart ache. “You shouldn’t hate it. I want those things too.”

“I know, but I just can’t stop feeling like I don’t deserve you.”

“Wyatt.” I tilted my neck around so I could see his face in the shadows. “You can’t think something like that. No one really deserves anyone. People choose to be with other people. I chose you. I chose to have these moments with you. And I chose to make future plans with you.”

“I know. But how is that fair? Diana keeps telling me to think about the future. And you make me imagine that future. But then I look at Willa and I think—how is that fair? Her life is a struggle because of me. And I’m making plans with a girl I don’t deserve.”

I didn’t know how to answer his question without sounding cliché so I just told the truth. “It’s not fair, Wyatt. None of this is fair. But you can’t stay still in life, thinking that will make it fair. You have to keep moving forward.”

“I don’t know how.” His frustration seeped into the words.

“You keep trying until you do.”

He didn’t say anything, but I felt his silent thoughts as his chest moved quickly up and down against my back. I had pushed, and as usual, he just needed time to absorb the words.

And then his gravelly voice spoke in the quiet darkness of the trailer. “Maybe I’ve looked at this all wrong. Maybe there is a way to live with the guilt.” His voice broke with emotion. “Maybe I can stop people from being me.”

“How?” I whispered.

“I don’t know. But if I can stop just
one
person from being me or even Trevor. Then maybe I will be able to live with myself. Maybe I will be able to move forward and live in the world again. And I can have a life with you. The one I want to give you.”

A tear fell down my cheek, followed by another. They ran down my face until they dripped onto his hands. “I think that sounds like a good plan.”

Wyatt brushed the wetness from my cheeks. “Emmy, don’t cry.”

“It’s okay. They’re good tears.”

Wyatt kissed my neck, leaving his lips in place as he whispered against my skin. “I love you. Whether I deserve you or not. I love you. Don’t ever forget that.”

O
N THURSDAY NIGHT, ONE WEEK
before Thanksgiving, I finally told my parents about Wyatt. I figured if he could let his family back into his life, then mine deserved to know what I’d kept hidden from them all these months.

After Blaire said she needed her own car, I slipped the news into the conversation. They were stunned. My dad stopped eating his lasagna in mid-bite. My mom gave a teary smile like she understood my need to help Wyatt while silently questioning my sanity. She saw my boyfriend as another of my
Emma
projects. My dad’s eyebrows narrowed, similar to Blaire’s, as he said, “I remember seeing the story on the news about the kid who burned down that town.”

Apparently I was the only person who didn’t remember Wyatt’s story being splashed in the headlines. I politely explained it wasn’t an
entire
town, but my accurate description didn’t relieve any of the concern expressed by my father.

I’m sure he would love to have a discussion with Wyatt, but that would require a drive out to his confinement, which currently wasn’t a good idea. Showing up unannounced with my
parents
would be a disaster.

And then I flipped the tables around in my mind, looking at it from their perspective. Daughter finds guy with ankle monitor on house arrest because he got drunk and burned down a town, almost killing his friend and sister.

Those thoughts smothered the argument right out of me. The rest of dinner was relatively quiet. Blaire never said anything while my dad randomly brought the conversation back to my
boyfriend
. I had buzz-killed the whole meal.

As we left the house, they hugged us each goodbye. I decided to let my parents mull it over for a while. And maybe in a few weeks or
months
, I would take them to meet Wyatt. Maybe that would make it better.

“Have you ever been to Gibbs?” Blaire asked out of the blue as she leaned against the window in the passenger’s seat.

“No. Why?”

“Maybe you should see the place. You know, see where it happened.”

I thought about her suggestion. The dark sky had a decent moon. We should be able to see the buildings tonight.

“Okay,” I muttered. “Let’s go see the infamous Gibbs.”

I turned around in the middle of the road and headed south, crossing the county line as we traveled the thirty-something miles to Wyatt’s hometown.

Blaire didn’t say much as we rode in the darkness. I glanced over a few times, seeing her deep in thought. “So when are we going to meet Matt?”

“Geez,” she spat. “I’m working on it.”

“Okay, okay.” I decided the rest of the trip might be better in silence. As we reached the city limits, I realized the town was smaller than I’d imagined. I continued driving past houses until the street opened up to the main corridor. The moonlight illuminated the broken shadows, sending a chill up my back.

“Shit . . .” The word slipped out of Blaire’s mouth.

The fire had happened almost three years ago, but like many small places, it had taken time to rebuild. I’m sure there was plenty of red tape with insurance and bills. Parking on the side of the street, I got out of the car, walking slowly over to the brand-new electric pole. My fingers touched the rough wood. This is where it had happened. My eyes closed briefly as I remembered the words of his story. I heard the sound of his deep voice, filling my mind as the ghosts of Wyatt’s past floated around me.

The breeze picked up and the moment was over. My eyes opened back to the present. I walked over in front of the post office, looking at the centrifuge of the destruction. The large lot had been cleared down to the dirt. In the front part by the sidewalk, a single-wide trailer was parked on cement blocks with a tiny sign: US Post Office. I had a sickening feeling
this
was the permanent new office. Given the terrible economy, I’m sure the postal service questioned the necessity of reconstructing a grand building.

As for the three buildings to the right, they were still charred and black, haunting the residents every day as they drove down the street. Half of the burned furniture store sign still hung in front of the largest building, and caution tape flapped in the breeze, blocking out trespassers, even though the black words had faded from the weather. There were just three buildings, but those
three
buildings consumed an entire city block of the old main street.

On the left side of the post office, a construction billboard sign read: Future Home of the First Bank of Gibbs. I assumed this was the only business that could afford to rebuild. The walls were slowly going up behind the sign. At this rate, it would be spring before the new bank was finished—over three years after the accident.

My heart beat faster in my chest. Maybe in my naïve thoughts, I had wanted to believe the events of that night were slightly exaggerated. But Wyatt Carter, in his drunken carelessness, had destroyed a large chunk of this town. Gibbs wasn’t a big place, which made any type of destruction hit right in the emotional gut of the residents. And it hit mine.

I felt their pain. I felt his guilt. Wiping a tear from my eye, I quickly got back in the car. They continued to run down my cheeks as we pulled out on Main Street. And then I saw the multicolored light boxes and decorations stacked on the street corner by the chamber of commerce. They must be getting ready to decorate the light poles for Christmas.

And my heart broke for all the people in this town whose lives had changed in a matter of seconds on that cold Christmas Eve. Blaire reached inside her backpack, grabbing some tissues. The tears continued to fall as we left the city limits of Gibbs so I pulled over to the side of the road. My sister voluntarily gave me a brief hug before switching places behind the wheel.

But even in my sadness, I knew something these people couldn’t fathom about Wyatt. A reckless kid had almost burned down this town, but a kind and responsible guy had emerged from the ashes.