by Ellie Wade
“In the living room,” I call back. I hastily pick up the barrage of snotty Kleenex that lie about and throw them in the trash in the kitchen.
I turn to find Wyatt standing under the archway of the room’s entrance. He’s holding a massive bouquet of different types of flowers in varying shades of pink. It’s absolutely stunning.
“I brought you a present.” He grins at me in the beautifully infectious way he does.
I can’t help but smile back.
My entire face lights up. “They’re so pretty. Thank you so much. This is so sweet of you.”
I take a couple of steps toward him, and he swings his arm to the side with the assortment of blooms in hand, leaving his other arm in full view.
I gasp and bring my hands to my mouth.
My eyes fill with tears, but this time, they are tears of utter joy. I look from Wyatt to the lump of cuteness in his hand. My Mila.
“How did you—what does this—” My thoughts are jumbled as I jog forward and grab her from him.
Holding her to my chest, I rock and kiss her soft fur. She licks my face, and I giggle.
“She’s yours,” he says.
My attention jolts up to Wyatt. “What do you mean?”
“She’s yours. You’ve officially adopted her. You can keep her.”
“I don’t understand. What about the adopters? You didn’t break their hearts, did you?” I don’t know why I care so much about the couple who wanted her. I should just be happy that she’s mine. But I know it’d be wrong to take a puppy from them just because I wanted her.
“Well, I called them that night after you interviewed them. I told them the situation and let them know that it was completely their decision. They talked it over, and when they called back, they told me that it was actually a relief that I had called because they left the rescue, torn. They were having second thoughts about Mila because they also really loved her brother Bo. They were going back and forth on whether or not they’d picked the right one. So, they told me that you wanting her so badly was a sign, and they adopted Bo instead. They left today with huge smiles on their faces and Bo in their arms. They definitely aren’t heartbroken.”
I squeeze Mila tight, fresh tears falling to her fur. “That is, like, the most perfect story in the history of stories.”
“Oh, yeah?” He chuckles.
“Definitely. Thank you so much for doing this for me.”
“Anytime.” He winks.
With Mila in my arms, I stare at Wyatt. I can’t believe how much I love him. Even before we were together, there was a part of me that knew I loved him, but if there were ever any shadow of a doubt, there’s not anymore.
He’s kind, giving, beautiful, and so good. He’s one of the best people I’ve ever met.
I kiss Mila on the head and let her down. Wyatt hands me the bouquet, and I lower my face to the arrangement and breathe in. The scent makes me feel so many things but mainly happiness. There’s never been a time in my life where every aspect of it was perfect, but at this very second, I know what it’s like to exist among perfection. Obviously, it’s fleeting because a flawless reality isn’t sustainable.
But it’s here now, and I’m going to enjoy the heck out of it.
I drape my arms around Wyatt’s neck. “I love you,” I say aloud for the first time.
His blues stare back at me, revealing so much. No response leaves his lips, but he kisses me. With his mouth against mine, the connection is firm and sweet and then slow and heated all at once. He can’t tell me how he feels with words, but this kiss utters it all. Every emotion that I’m feeling, Wyatt is feeling it, too. He doesn’t have to tell me because I already know.
This is new territory for the both of us. We’re scared yet excited. We’re enveloped in adoration for one another while burying our fears. Because let’s face it; there are worries. Neither of us has been in a legitimate long-term relationship that held any promise. We’ve both been hurt. We’ve both hurt others. We’ve both built a life designed to protect us against the insecurities of our past.
We’re imperfect; that’s for sure. Though just maybe our flaws are what make us work.
Wyatt’s lips continue to caress mine. They cherish me with every movement. They want me as they pull out my bottom lip. They need me as his tongue enters my mouth. They desire me as we walk to my bedroom, his lips never separating from mine.
As Wyatt enters me, I feel it—his love for me. It’s unspoken, but it’s there. It’s present in the way he looks out for and cares for me every day. It’s there in the shy glances and hopeful smiles at work. He loves me quietly, and that’s okay. If I’m being honest, I’m not quite sure if I’m ready to be loved out loud.
20
“Money can buy pretty much anything, but they’re wrong when they say it can buy happiness.”
—Georgia Wright
I lie on my side in a bed at Paige’s house. Let’s be real. This isn’t my bed, my room, or my home. Have I really ever had any of those things? A place that’s really mine? I’ve lived in more places than I can remember. I’ve slept in twin beds, double beds, queen-size beds, king-size beds, cots, hammocks, and on the floor. None of those spaces were mine. I was merely borrowing them until I had to leave again.
Even when I moved around as a child, not only did I get a new house each time, but I also got a new bedroom set. Moving furniture was an inconvenience to my parents. So, they sold each of their homes furnished and had new furniture set up in our new home before we got there.
I’ve never really had anything that was truly mine. I was never somewhere long enough to build friendships that would stand the test of time and distance. Material things weren’t important because we just bought new. Money can buy pretty much anything, but they’re wrong when they say it can buy happiness.
I wasn’t anywhere long enough to secure roots into the ground. Without roots, a flower will blow away in the wind. And without the nutrients from the soil, a flower will die. I’ve been drifting my entire life, desperate to grow roots strong enough that they’ll hold steady and keep me grounded. Sometimes, I think the only thing keeping me alive is the movement, the wind carrying me, not letting me fall.
Yet I feel like I’m closer to finding a home than I’ve ever been, one where I can actually settle into and stay. So, why do I want to leave?
Holding my passport in hand, I flip through the pages. This is mine. This passport and these experiences that make up my history, this is me.
I look at the stamps from all of the different countries in which I’ve resided. I’ve been all over the world. Each stamp reminds me of a time spent in a country where I did something good. Each experience fed my soul just enough to get me to the next place.
I’m happy. I love it here. But I’m also terrified. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to feel complete when I’m standing still. How is it possible to wear a big, authentic smile every day, be surrounded by love, and still feel alone?
Mila wakes from where she was napping at the foot of the bed. She crawls up to me and licks the tears from my face before snuggling in front of me, pushing her back against my front.
I kiss the back of her neck and wrap my arms around her middle. “Why am I always the big spoon, huh?” I tease with a sad chuckle as I bury my tear-soaked face into the rolls at her neck. I know when she’s a big girl she’ll have grown into all of this extra skin, which makes me a little sad. I love her rolls so much.
I love her so much.
How can I think about leaving her?
“It wouldn’t be forever. I’d be back,” I say out loud, though I know she’s no longer listening because her puppy snores fill the space.
Parents have to travel for work all the time, leaving their kids for a little while. It’d be like that. I’d go just for a small span of time. She could stay with Paige or Ethel. Then, I’d come back for her.
I justify the decision in my head because the truth is, I’ve already decided. I have to d
o this—for me. If Wyatt loves me, then he will understand. If I can save one little girl or boy from a horrible life, then it’s worth it.
Mila will understand.
Wyatt will understand.
Everyone will.
They have to.
“Please tell me you’re kidding!” Wyatt shoves each of his legs into his jeans and pulls them up with a jerk. Intense irritation lines his features—no, more than irritation. It’s fury, and I hate it.
I want to go back to moments ago when he was worshipping my body with his, when his lips paraded over my sensitive skin, making me squirm. I want to go back to the kisses, the moans, and the sensations that only he can bring me.
My body, still bare and heated from our lovemaking, misses his, and I pull the bedsheet up around me. The second I told him of my plans, he bolted from bed, from our embrace…from me. I recognize that I waited until after we made love to tell him. His reaction isn’t a shock.
“I’ll be back. This is just something I have to do,” I plead for his understanding.
“So, you’re leaving Mila? Just like that? You’ve only had her for a month! You’re leaving me?” He grabs a T-shirt and pulls it over his bare chest.
I mourn the loss of his exposed skin. He’s gorgeous, and a piece of me wonders if I’ll see him again without clothes. Will he be able to forgive me?
“I’ll be back for Mila, for you. Kylie said they need me. Try to understand.”
“Who the fuck is Kylie? If her needs are so important to you, why is this the first time I’m hearing her name?”
“She’s a friend. We met in China.” I kick my legs over the side of the bed. I grab my panties off the floor and pull them up. “Colima has the highest human trafficking rates in Mexico, Wyatt. It’s so sad. These young girls are taken and abused, exploited, used, and…who knows what else? But their families never see them again. Can you imagine?” My words get caught in my throat. The sadness I feel for these girls makes my eyes water.
“And this Kylie person works for the government or some other organization with any sort of authority?”
“No, she’s a human rights activist. She travels all over, trying to help those in need.”
He drops his chin in an abrupt nod. “Right. She sounds completely qualified.” Sarcasm lines his voice. “Do you realize what kind of people work in sex trafficking? I’ll give you a clue—not good ones.”
He grabs his phone and starts frantically typing on the screen. “Here we go.” He reads from his phone, “Colima, Mexico, has the highest per capita murder rate out of the entire country. That’s a fun fact. Look! It’s been mainly taken over by drug cartels, producing a majority of the methamphetamines in the country.” He taps his lips with his finger as he continues to scroll across his phone with his other hand. “We have more here about murders, kidnappings, drugs, cartels.” His face jolts up from his phone, his blue eyes wide with anger. “Sounds like an amazing place for you to go hang out.”
Fully dressed now, I stand and take a few steps toward him, attempting to close the gap between us. But every time I move closer, he moves away.
I throw up my hands in defeat. “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. Of course it’s a dangerous place. It’s number one in human trafficking. It’s only to be expected that there would be some other issues there. I’m not a stranger to dangerous situations, Wyatt. I’ve been to many questionable places. I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know that.” He shakes his head, his eyes narrowed. “Please help me understand why you feel like you have to do this. I really want to get it, but I don’t. To me, this is reckless and fucking stupid.”
“I just feel like I have to. There’s a need, and I can do something to help.”
“What can you do? Get yourself killed? You’re not the goddamn Special Forces, Georgia. You’re just a girl.”
I hate how my name sounds like a curse as it rolls off of his lips. I miss the jovial way he says his nickname for me. I can’t stand this angry version of Wyatt I see before me. Sure, he’s upset. But why can’t he understand that this is important to me? This is who I was before I came here to stay with Paige. I’m not just going to change who I am.
“This is me. Why can’t you understand that?” I plead.
“You’re what? A person who puts herself in dangerous situations? Someone who leaves as soon as they start getting comfortable? Someone who’s constantly running away?”
“I’m not running away!” I protest, my voice shaking with frustration. “I’m helping people. Someone has to help them.”
He shakes his head, and sadness fills his eyes. “What are you afraid of?”
“Nothing. I’m not afraid of anything. I just want to help.”
“No, you’re terrified, and that’s why you’re running.” His chest rises as he pulls in a deep breath, and he bites his lip.
“I am not scared. Why would I be going to Mexico if I was?”
“You’re scared of real life. Getting comfortable. Letting people in.”
“That’s not true. I let you in.”
He scoffs, “No, you haven’t. Things between us are finally getting good. I’ve dropped my walls. We’re happy, or so I thought. So, now, you decide you need to leave the country? One doesn’t have to be a psychologist to figure you out. You’re scared, and now, you’re running. I was stupid for ever thinking you’d stay.”
Wyatt throws open the door and steps over Cooper, who is waiting right outside it. I follow.
“I’ll be back,” I say to him as he walks away.
Reaching the kitchen, he takes a glass from the cupboard and fills it with water before downing it all. The glass is set on the countertop. Wyatt leans against the granite surface and crosses his arms over his chest.
“I always knew you’d do this. I’m not sure why, but I felt you would. You were always going to leave.”
“I told you that I’ll come back,” I say softly.
“When?”
I shrug. “I don’t know.”
“You might be back, and you might not. Don’t you realize that one of these little adventures of yours is going to get you killed someday?”
“I could walk out of this house and get run over by a car and die. I can’t let fear of death stop me from helping, Wyatt. That’s not who I am.”
“There are countless people right here who need help. If you want to help stop human trafficking, Michigan is number two in the country, right behind Nevada. Think of that. Fifty states, and you’re living in number two. You can help here. You do help every day. You save lives by rescuing dogs that would otherwise starve or be beaten or mauled to death.” He shakes his head. “And that’s not enough? Their lives aren’t enough?”
“They are, and I’m glad I can help, but now, Kylie needs me.”
Wyatt drags his palms down his cheeks. “I need you. I need you, Peaches. Please.”
Wyatt isn’t one to ask for anything, and I realize how much he wants me to stay, but I can’t live my life for him. I have to live my life for me.
“I’m sorry.” I cautiously step toward him. I place my hands against his chest, over his heart, and he lets me. “I’m not doing this to hurt you. I love you.”
“You can’t save everyone in the world,” he says. His beautiful blues beg me to see reason. “You can’t. It’s an impossible task, and you’re always going to be searching for purpose, but you’ll never find it. You’re one person.”
“I can try.” I raise my shoulders in a shrug.
“You can’t save the world, Georgia.” His eyes glisten with unshed tears. “You can’t save the world,” he repeats and lets out a sigh. “But you can save me. Stay. Save me.”
Standing before me is no longer the strong Wyatt that I know now, but instead, I see the boy who felt unwanted. I see Wyatt, young and scared, and it breaks my heart. I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t. But I can’t stay for him.
Standing on my tiptoes, I press my lips to his. The kis
s is short, only lasting a moment, but I hope he feels my love for him. I hope he trusts that I’ll come back. Maybe it’s unfair for me to ask, but I want him to wait for me.
“I’m so sorry.” I kiss him again. “So sorry.” Holding his cheeks in my palms, I run my thumbs across his face. The short, sexy stubble that resides there tickles my skin.
I’m going to miss this face. So very much.
“I love you,” I tell him honestly because I really do.
Maybe me leaving isn’t the best way to show him that. Yet having to do something for myself doesn’t take away what I feel for him. I’ve never, ever felt for anyone the way I feel for Wyatt.
He doesn’t respond, so I say it again, “I love you, Wyatt.”
“When do you fly out?” His voice is so low; it’s almost a whisper.
“Tomorrow.” Regret taints my answer.
He grabs my wrists and calmly pushes me backward, allowing himself enough space to step away from me. He snaps his fingers, and Cooper is immediately by his side. The two of them walk toward the back door. He snatches his truck keys from the counter as he leaves.
Right after he opens the door, he turns to me and says, “Have a nice flight.” Then, he slams the door behind him.
Grief overwhelms me, and I have an awful feeling that I’m never going to see Wyatt again. Yet my resolve to leave remains.
There’s a part of me that hates myself and questions everything. But then there’s that part that knows I’ll go anyway. There’s a big part of me that misses Wyatt so desperately that it hurts even though I’ve only been away from him for mere seconds.
There’s a part of me that knows I’ll never forgive myself if I lose him forever. Then, there’s a part that recognizes that I will never love anyone the way I love him. And as I drop to my knees and cry on Wyatt’s kitchen floor, that’s the part that hurts the most.
21
“Traveling the world has always been my therapy.”
—Georgia Wright
