Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1)

by S. D. Hendrickson

  “Wyatt, um, this is Blaire. My sister.” I didn’t know why I added that last part. It wasn’t like he couldn’t tell from just looking.

  “I didn’t think you drove,” he asked, seeming confused.

  “I don’t. But she’s been driving me crazy. Wyatt. Wyatt. Wyatt. Blah. Blah. I finally just said fuck it. I’ll waste my morning in that death trap.”

  “Blaire!” I shot her a death glare. “Sorry, she can be an acquired taste.”

  Wyatt didn’t say anything. His eyes traveled back and forth between us, taking in the similarities. And then his smile grew a little hazy as he looked off in the distance.

  “What?” I asked.

  He laughed faintly. “Nothing. It’s just funny seeing both of you together.”

  “Not him too.” Blaire rolled her eyes. “Please tell me you won’t fixate on it like Kurt.”

  “Who’s Kurt?”

  I cringed at his question, not wanting to explain Kurt the pervert to Wyatt. Blaire eyed me, sensing my dilemma, but she went for it anyway.

  “She’s never told you about Kurt? Typical Emma.” She smirked. “Kurt is the reason her knee got messed up, again. And the reason I had to drive out here today because his little obsession put Emma in the hospital.”

  “You were in the hospital?” His fingers dug into my shoulders.

  I nodded, looking down at my black-encased leg, the one I held slightly off the ground. “Surprise. I got that surgery after all. That’s what I was trying to tell you. It’s why I didn’t come back sooner.”

  “Emma. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” His face twisted up as he slipped back into a guilt-stricken panic. “Shit. You shouldn’t be standing here. Did I hurt you? I am so stupid. I was mauling you out here. You can’t even stand. Shit.”

  I grabbed his cheeks on each side of his face, getting his attention. “I’m okay. I promise. And Kurt is my apartment manager. We were talking. And I slipped on the stairs. He drove me to the hospital.”

  Standing behind him out of view, Blaire visibly choked as she heard my explanation. I would deal with her later. Telling Wyatt about Kurt would just make things worse. He would get more worked up over something that was beyond his control. It’s not like Wyatt could even leave this place to confront my slightly obsessive apartment manager. And maybe I’d made too much of it—after all, the guy did drive me to the hospital.

  “Let me help you inside.” The wild look in his eyes got stronger. “We can talk or something.”

  “I would like you to take me to the kennel. I want to see everyone. I want to see Charlie.”

  He nodded before bending down and picking me up. I settled into the crook of his arms with my leg sticking straight out in that stupid contraption. We made eye contact, and my heart beat faster.

  “Is this okay?” Wyatt asked. His desperate need for reassurance was transparent.

  “Yeah.” I traced a finger down his jaw, right over the spot that kept his hidden dimple. His familiar scent of clean soap filled my nose. I smiled at Wyatt, wanting to kiss him again. I leaned up, brushing my mouth against his.

  “I’ll be in the trailer,” Blaire said as she pulled her giant backpack out of the backseat.

  “Okay,” I mumbled. She went up the steps and disappeared behind the old door. I looked back at Wyatt. “I don’t know about her being in there alone. She might have some weird forensic kit stuffed down in that backpack.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve got nothing to hide.” Even though his words came out like a joke, I saw the way his jaw tightened up.

  Wyatt carried me to the kennel. Once inside, the familiar sounds of the dogs filled the whole room, echoing off the metal walls. He took me down the main aisle toward Charlie.

  “Wait.” I grabbed his arm. “I want to see Cye. I don’t think I can get down in there, but I want to see him. Did you give him the bones while I was gone? Did it work?”

  “Well, I’ll let you see for yourself.” He sat me down next to the gate, and I held onto his arm for support.

  “I don’t understand.” My eyes traced the perimeter of the pen. An old bulldog was perched in the back where Cye had always sat. “Where is he?”

  “Right under your nose.”

  “What the—” About two feet away, the battered dog sat in the corner by the gate. He was angled just right so I couldn’t reach through and touch him. But he was close enough for me to see the gold flecks in his one dark eye. “I don’t understand.”

  “Well, Betty arrived and she stared at the wall. So I put them in the kennel together. I wasn’t sure what would happen. Not all of their problems are solved. But I guess Betty gave Cye the stare-down until he moved. I can’t touch him yet. And he seems a little angry at me. But he moved.”

  “Wow. Well, that is not what I expected. A lot happened while I was gone.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  I turned to face him. “I need to say something to you.”

  Wyatt didn’t answer immediately. He let out a deep breath. “Okay.”

  “I researched you while I was at home. I had plenty of time to do it. I read about the accident and all the stuff printed afterward. And I . . . um . . . I read about Trevor,” I added cautiously, unsure of his reaction since I knew Wyatt had left that part out of his story on purpose.

  His eyes got a little dark as he stared off in the distance past my head, but I continued anyway. “I read all of it. But I also found the articles from high school. You were a football player. A pretty good one too. I even tracked down the stuff from Texas. You were the reason they made the Division-II national finals.”

  “Well, all of that is gone now.”

  “I know. But that’s not the point I am trying to make. You did a bad thing, Wyatt. I’m not going to act like you didn’t. But I don’t think it makes you a bad person. And before you say anything, I realize that I will never know the guy who existed before the accident. But that doesn’t really matter. I know the person I see now. And I know right here.” I rested my hand over his heart. “That person is not bad. He’s just a little lost and really broken.”

  Wyatt put his hand over mine, holding it tight to his chest. The torment twisted around on his face like a visible tug-of-war over my words.

  “Emma.” His voice grated on my name. “I try to sort it out in my head, but it’s all a damn mess. I haven’t really talked about it with anyone. And I don’t even know if I told you the whole truth. I honestly don’t remember everything from that night. And that messes with me too.”

  “I can’t imagine what it’s like, being out here all alone, living with those feelings every day.”

  His green eyes bore down into mine, letting me see the deep pain rotting his insides. I slipped my arms around his neck, pressing myself into his body. He tucked his nose against my cheek.

  “This is hard for me to say.” He muttered so quiet the words almost disappeared. “But I need you in my life, Emma.”

  “I know,” I whispered. “It’s why I kept coming back.”

  He let out a deep breath. “But I don’t know what I’m doing. You. Me. Us. Here. I don’t know how this works.”

  “Honestly, me either.” I laughed faintly. “Look. I can’t drive for another couple of weeks. And I won’t force Blaire to bring me out here again either. But I’ll come back once the doctor clears me. I want to help you. I want to be there for you. I want to be with you. I know it will be hard, but I can handle it, if you just let me. Because I want this with you.”

  He swallowed, making his throat move with emotion. “I wish I could give you more than this. But it’s all I can do for now.”

  “What? Like dates to stupid places that just cost money? I think we both know that other stuff is overrated. I’d rather just spend time with you here.”

  “You say that now.”

  “It’s the truth. I want you, Wyatt. Just the way you are.”

  I gazed into his troubled eyes until Wyatt leaned down and kissed me, letting his tongue slip through
my lips. His mouth moved slowly and sweetly as his hands trailed over my body until they cupped my butt cheeks before scooping me up in his arms. I held on tight as he carried me down the aisle to see Charlie.

  A WEEK LATER, I SAT in the apartment next door to mine, playing checkers with Mr. Hughes. After I got clearance to put a little weight on my leg, I made my mom bring me home. I was tired of staring at their walls while everyone was away at work. I thought it was better to at least have some company. It didn’t take much to maneuver the few steps next door. I could hang out with my neighbor while Blaire wasn’t home.

  “Well, I’ve finally caved.”

  “Uh?” I looked up from the black and red board. The old man had me cornered. For the last ten minutes, I’d run ever scenario through my head and it was official—he was going to beat me again.

  “You folding?” I teased.

  “You young’uns know nothing about real games. There’s no folding in checkers.”

  “Then why are you caving?”

  “My daughter. I talked to her last night. She’s made Nebraska sound tolerable.”

  “Tolerable?” My heart hurt, seeing the pained expression on his face.

  “Well, she put it to me this way. When she comes at Thanksgiving, I’m either getting shuttled off to some old nursing home or I’m going to live with her. Like I said. Nebraska sounds tolerable.”

  I nodded, feeling the undeniable sadness for him and for me. I would miss the old guy. “Well, I guess Nebraska sounds pretty nice then.”

  “Yep. And you might as well fold and we’ll start a new game. You’re not getting out of that corner.”

  “Okay.” I gathered up the plastic pieces, stuffing them back down in the box. “What else you got?”

  “Since you keep talking about folding, you ever play poker?”

  “It’s been a while.” I shrugged, giving him a smile. “I played some when I traveled for track meets. I’m about as good at poker as I am at checkers.”

  “Well, it looks like I’ll be winning my bet against you.”

  I cocked an eyebrow up at Mr. Hughes. “What bet?”

  “When I beat you, no more salads. I really hate green things.”

  “I accept your challenge since we are playing for salad. Where are the cards?”

  He coughed faintly. “Hall closet.”

  I took the checkers box with me as I hobbled to the door in the entryway. I dug around the shelves filled with pieces from his life. All of those items would soon be packed up and in a truck going to Nebraska.

  “I guess you got one more week before you can go see that boy.” I heard his voice come from behind me and the waves of feelings overwhelmed my thoughts. For a brief moment, I’d stopped thinking about Wyatt. I missed him and craved him. I worried about him.

  I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for Wyatt. What it must feel like, going days and days without seeing another person. Not talking. Keeping all your words bottled up inside. It was enough to make a normal person go crazy. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for a person carrying enough baggage to sink a ship to the bottom of the ocean.

  My hand clasped around a beat-up deck of cards. Closing the closet door, I made my way back to the couch and the TV tray we kept between us for the games. “He’s not a boy, Mr. Hughes. He’s twenty-two.”

  “If you say so. So what’s his name again?”

  “Wyatt.”

  “Wyatt what? This boy not have a last name?”

  “Caulf—um. I mean, Carter.” It was still a little hard for me to keep that one straight.

  “Wyatt Carter. Well, that explains a lot. You never told me he was that Carter boy.”

  My eyes snapped up to his old, wrinkled blue ones. The confused thoughts tumbled around. “You know Wyatt?”

  “Can’t burn down half a town without a few people noticing.”

  I cringed, hearing the reference come from Mr. Hughes. I knew when people found out about my involvement with Wyatt, they would start judging me. I knew it was bound to happen. We lived in Stillwater, but Gibbs wasn’t that far away. And small-town news had a tendency to travel, especially when it got picked up by the big-city affiliates: Drunk Driver Burns Down Main Street, Paralyzes Mayor’s Son.

  And like Wyatt had said—taking out a federal post office really did make people crazy. It was the biggest leverage Fred Tucker had used against Wyatt. I’d read it all in the papers. And I guess Mr. Hughes had read it too.

  “Don’t get all worried, Emma. That’s not how I know your boy. He’s Orville Carter’s grandson. Wyatt’s grandpa owns a motorcycle repair garage in town. Or, well, he used to own one. I think he’s retired now.”

  “Oh, I um—I remember Wyatt saying something about that. He’s got a bike out there at the kennel. Keeps it under a tarp.”

  “You don’t say.” A whimsical grin took over his face.

  “How would you know about his shop?”

  “How do you think? I couldn’t have just anyone work on Priscilla.” He gave me an ornery smirk. “I used to ride her every weekend.”

  “Priscilla . . . is a motorcycle?” My thoughts tumbled around, remembering all of his references to that name and their trips across the country. “I thought she was your wife?”

  “My wife?” He let out a wild laugh. “My wife was named Margie. And she didn’t care much for Priscilla. Said I was going to end up with half a brain left in my head.”

  “But when you talked about . . . I’m confused. Never mind. So where’s Priscilla now?”

  That whimsical grin returned. “Well, I reckon she’s sitting out there at the kennel with your boy. Orville had spent so much time putting her back together through the years. He was just as fond of her as me. When I couldn’t ride her anymore, he wanted Priscilla as a birthday present for his grandson. And I thought, that’s where she belongs, with some young’un who could give her the road time she deserves.”

  I was stunned. As the reality of his words settled into my heart, I leaned back against the couch holding the deck of cards to my chest.

  “Maybe one day he can take her back out,” I mumbled.

  “Make sure he takes you with him. Oh, the memories. Nothing but wind and speed on the road. You’ll love her.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure I will.”

  BY THE TIME I GOT out of my car, he was already coming down the steps of the trailer. I’d missed Wyatt, every broody, rotten, sweet piece of him. If I could run, I would’ve run in a dead sprint. But I didn’t have to. Wyatt walked quickly to me, wearing a grin as big as any I’d ever seen from him. His arms came around me. My body lifted up from the ground as he crushed me to his chest, leaving my feet dangling against his knees. I felt every inch of him pressing into my skin under the sticky summer sun.

  “I missed you,” he whispered next to my ear.

  I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist, but the new brace still restricted my knee from bending in that direction. And my physical therapist might just kill me.

  Wyatt backed me up against the hood of the car. The hot metal burned a little as I sat on the edge. As our lips found each other, I no longer cared about the slight scorches on my dangling legs. My mouth opened, letting his tongue slip inside and drag slowly out to my lips. His fingers gripped my butt cheeks, pulling me closer until my thighs split and I straddled his hips.

  “How’s your knee?” he asked as he moved his lips down my neck. “Does it hurt like this?”

  “No,” I managed to say. Every time he kissed me, I swear all rationale left my brain. I wanted him and he needed me. Wyatt transferred all his pain and loneliness into a mind-blowing physical explosion—and I didn’t really think that was such a terrible thing.

  His hand moved up my waist and slipped in between us and over my breasts. He cupped me through the T-shirt, rubbing lightly with his thumb, over and over again as his mouth sucked on my bottom lip. Wyatt tugged the low V-neckline of my pink shirt until my left breast was free and he pressed his lips against the lacy
fabric. Only a few delicate flowers composed of tiny threads separated his tongue from my skin.

  Wyatt pushed his hips tighter against me. My fingers dug into his shoulders, and I held onto his body as he made my insides experience things I didn’t know were possible.

  Five minutes ago, I was missing Wyatt and now he was holding me, kissing me, touching me, setting my body on fire—and then he stilled. Wyatt lifted his head up, letting his forehead rest against mine. He let out a deep breath. “I told myself I wasn’t going to do this when you got here.”

  His voice had a painful catch to it. I stared into his eyes, trying to let him know it was okay. He could kiss me, hold me, take my clothes off—preferably not on the hood of my car, but inside his trailer would be just fine.

  “It’s okay, you know.” I ran a finger over his cheek, feeling the smooth skin covered with faint stubble. “To want me that way.”

  “I know. Just not yet. Not like this.” His warm breath drifted slowly over my skin. “We are just getting started. I want us to be different than all that shit I did in the past. Because you are different. I’ve never had this part with someone. And I want this part with you. The beginning stuff. The stuff that is supposed to happen before sex.”

  Wyatt pulled my shirt back up before releasing me. He backed away, and I sat on the hood alone. Hearing his words made me fall for Wyatt just a little bit more. I understood completely as his eyes held onto mine, showing his tormented thoughts full of pain and desire.

  “I want that too,” I reassured him.

  He smiled, letting his dimples take over his cheeks. And then he leaned forward, touching me with nothing but his lips. Wyatt kissed me softly, and I melted all over again. His sweet, simple kiss burned me just as hot as the one before, because I knew that simple kiss came filled with his actual emotions—deep ones that I’d tried to pull out of him all summer.

  He released my lips slowly and backed away. “That’s the way it was supposed to go instead of mauling you in the driveway.”

  Even though he put a stop to our makeout session, his earlier thoughts were still very obvious as his eyes traveled over my whole body. Wyatt had decided not to touch me—just torture me with those looks. He lifted my foot up, looking at my knee. “So that’s the new brace? It doesn’t look that much better. When do they set you free for good?”