Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1) (45 page)

“They have to take him in so we can sort it out.” She put an arm around my sagging shoulders. “Emma, I’m afraid this is going to be complicated. We had rules about Wyatt staying at this place. I’ll do what I can to help him. But you need to understand this is serious.”

Tears rolled out of my swollen eyes as they shut the door. The officer climbed in the front seat, putting the car in drive. After all this time, Wyatt Carter was finally leaving his confinement.

I had imagined this moment in my mind. I had imagined the day he would cross the line back out into the world. I had imagined him riding that motorcycle he kept stored under the tarp. I had imagined him leaving with me. But instead of our joyous moment of flying off into the sunset together, I watched Wyatt leave the kennel alone in handcuffs.

B
LAIRE WAS IN THE HOSPITAL
. Wyatt was in jail. And I was just short of a mental breakdown. After my sister had surgery to remove the bullet, I sat in a chair next to my twin, leaving only for a brief moment when I tried to go see Wyatt at the sheriff’s office, but I was denied access.

Instead, I answered a plethora of detailed questions from the police
and
from my parents. They all grilled me about Kurt and Wyatt, making my head and heart hurt with the accusations as I fought to clarify the truth. When Blaire felt better, they did the same exact line of interrogation to my sister.

After she was released from the hospital, we returned to our apartment against the protests of my parents. We both insisted the threat was over. Kurt was currently being held until the police could sort through the convoluted mess.

And that is exactly how I described my own life. It was a complete and utter mess. My sister was angry at me
and
sad for me, which manifested into a depressing silence between us since I couldn’t bring myself to talk anymore about the situation. Wyatt was still in jail, and I honestly didn’t know how this would end for him.

So I cried raw, burning tears, which seemed to be the only words I could say to anyone. I cried for Blaire, and then I cried for Wyatt until I felt the rotting sickness in my chest, which I’d come to identify as guilt.

My thoughts stayed on a looping “What if?” film reel. What if I’d told someone about Kurt? What if I’d left the puppies alone? What if I’d never taken Charlie out to the kennel? What if I’d never met Wyatt? And then everyone’s lives would be much better.

But I loved him.
I couldn’t imagine not meeting Wyatt. Not caring about him. Not falling in love with him.

And the film reel started all over again, reminding me of the way his dimples hooked in the corners of his cheeks. And the agony of his pain as he held me tight. And the sound of his voice as he read out loud. And the sweet way his lips kissed mine. And the way it felt as he
loved
me. And the whispers of the promises we had made for our future.

On Tuesday, I got a phone call from Diana Sweetwater. There was a hearing for Wyatt the following day if I wanted to be there. I showed up alone at the courthouse. Wandering the halls, I found the small courtroom jam-packed without an open seat. I didn’t understand why so many people wanted to witness this hearing. Willa turned around in the second row, giving me a small wave like she’d been waiting for me. His mom was next to her. A man with wide shoulders sat on the other side. I assumed he was Wyatt’s father.

Reaching their row, all three sets of eyes landed on my swollen face. No amount of caked-on makeup could hide the days and hours of incessant tears.

“Hi.” My throat scratched on the words.

“You must be Emma.” His dad cased me with his stern glare before sticking out a hand. “Willa has told me a lot of good things about you.”

I took his large fingers in a firm grasp. I wanted to babble a string of incoherent words of apology, but I kept my mouth shut, nodding only my head. His family stood up, making room for me. Once seated on the cold, wooden bench, his mom gave me a hug. I felt the desperation in her lengthy embrace, and it reminded me of all the times Wyatt had grabbed me in a similar way.

And then I froze. My breath stilled in my lungs. A man brought Wyatt into the room. I stared at his familiar body dressed in the orange jumpsuit. A purple bruise had formed behind the scrapes on the side of his face from where Kurt had slammed his head into the dirt.

His eyes drifted across the courtroom, seeing all the people in their seats. They locked briefly on a man in a wheelchair, sitting on the other side of the room. A small gasp came from my lips when I realized it must be Marcus. They each did a quick nod to each other. So brief that everyone else probably missed it. A tear fell down my cheek, and I reached up to smear it away, but it was followed by several more.

Wyatt reached the table that sat in front of us on the defense side. I noticed the dark circles around his eyes. They ran deep and haunting. He nodded at his father. As his gaze reached his mom and sister, a weak smile formed on his lips. And then he looked directly at me.

Our eyes morphed into a deep stare as the pain twisted up on his face. My fingers gripped the wooden seat as he let me see inside his troubled heart. The vulnerability almost crushed me. I wanted to run to him, slinging my arms around his neck, wrapping my legs around his waist. I wanted to touch him. Hold him. Kiss him. I wanted to let him know it would be okay.

Wyatt mouthed
I love you
before looking away. Tears fell down my cheeks as he turned around, taking his seat. Seeing him like this hurt more than I’d ever imagined. I just wanted things to go back to the way they were a week ago. I wanted to turn back time. I wanted to roll back the clock, making this all disappear.

A man in a gray suit joined Wyatt at his table. He whispered something in his ear. I hoped this man could work magic. I prayed this man would make this okay.

The bailiff stepped forward, making his announcement. We all stood up as the judge entered the room. It was strange seeing her dressed in the black robe. I assumed it was even stranger for Wyatt. Judge Sweetwater reached the bench, looking over the crowd with an annoyed look that bordered on disgust.

Diana had just been
Diana
to me in Wyatt’s story about his confinement. That was until I did my Internet research to learn more about the accident. Seeing
Judge
Diana Sweetwater listed in the news stories, I couldn’t believe Wyatt had omitted that one very important detail. The woman who had cared for Wyatt in his imprisonment was the very same person who had sentenced him to the kennel.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen. If I can actually call you people that. It saddens me that we are all here
again
to discuss the fate of Mr. Carter.”

“Your Honor, may I approach the bench?” The man with the dark hair, peppered with gray, stood up from his seat. I assumed he was the prosecutor. Another man with dark-blond hair sat next to him.

“No, you may not. You made it perfectly clear that you wished to do this
publicly
and not in my chambers.” The strained glare from Judge Sweetwater made the man sit right back down in his seat. “As I was saying. We are here to discuss the fate of Mr. Carter. I am very aware of the agreement signed by all parties, including myself, that allowed Mr. Carter to reside in my protective custody. And if any of the stipulations were broken, the agreement would become void and the original ruling would go into effect.”

My throat clenched, hearing the words. My skin got cold and clammy. My eyes bore holes into the back of his head, but I couldn’t see his face. I needed to see his face, but nothing right now would allow it.

She paused briefly, gathering her thoughts. “As of right now, the sheriff’s office is still sorting through the details of the incident.”

“Your Honor.” The man stood up again. “You can’t brush this under the rug like it was some minor tea party. It’s a very clear violation of the agreement with potential other charges. There was an actual gun fight, causing a woman to be shot. The other man had enough meth in his truck for a distribution charge. My office is currently looking into this as a drug deal gone bad.”

The noise in the room picked up with chatter as people took in the allegation and my hope trickled right out of my skin like the grains of sand in an hourglass. His mom reached over, grabbing my hand, squeezing it tight within her fingers.

“I know for a fact that wasn’t the circumstances involving the incident at
my
kennel. And that your office will get caught up on the real facts soon. But for now, we are here to address the original issue.” She turned her attention to Wyatt. “Mr. Carter, did you read the rules that pertained to our agreement when you signed the papers?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His deep voice echoed in the courtroom. Everything between them seemed so formal and unreal.

“Did you break the rules that pertained to our agreement?”

His lawyer tried to stop Wyatt, but he answered anyway. “Yes, ma’am.”

The guilt weighted down my heart, making it hard to breathe. I didn’t know where she was going with this line of questioning, but none of it felt good. The noise behind me got a little louder. Judge Sweetwater turned to address the whole room.

“Well, the original agreement was for five years in my custody at the kennel. Mr. Carter has served half of that time. I am proposing an amendment to our agreement if both parties will agree. I propose taking the current time served and counting that toward the original prison sentence.”

“You are not going to just let him walk out of here.” The blond man jumped up from his seat before she could continue. “My son is stuck in that damn chair over there. His organs are rotting. He can’t even use the bathroom on his own. There’s no way in hell I am going to agree for Wyatt Carter to just
walk
out of here.”

Marcus slumped a little in his wheelchair, casting his eyes down at the floor. And then a frenzy broke out—starting with the man I assumed to be Fred Tucker—as he shouted louder, pointing his finger at the defense table.

Wyatt’s dad jumped up and yelled across the aisle. His mom grabbed his dad, trying to force him back down in the seat. Some man in the back started a commotion that got several more people fired up, yelling about bankruptcy and the fire. This just caused Wyatt’s dad to go ballistic. Spit flew from his mouth as he launched an attack at the people talking behind us.

My stomach turned over several times, and I focused on the back of the familiar head in front of me. Wyatt never turned around to face the people who were coming completely unglued about his fate. My heart ached for him. They really did hate him. And his father really did fight tooth and nail for his son.

I heard the banging amidst the chaos. The rap of the gavel beat against the wood until it was the only sound left in the room.

“You people have lost your damn minds.” She looked pointedly at Marcus’s dad. “When is it going to be enough? You want me to give you a crowbar so you can break his damn knees in front of everyone? Would that finally make you happy? Just sit down, Fred Tucker.”

She turned her attention to the man next to him. “Hollings. You’re the damn DA. Keep him quiet, or both of you will be staying here tonight for contempt.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger in her voice. “Now as I was saying. Mr. Carter has admitted to breaking the rules of the agreement. Therefore, our contract is void and the original ruling goes into effect, which is thirty months. I propose for his time at the kennel to count toward his original sentence. Half the time served at the kennel, leaving half the original sentence. Thus, Wyatt Carter’s sentence will be amended to fifteen months with eligibility for parole at twelve.”