I glanced down to where Wyatt sat with Charlie. His face was no longer alive with excitement but veiled in sadness and wrapped in guilt. His self-punishment had surfaced, keeping a strong hold on his thoughts, tainting my surprise with his demons.
I just wanted Wyatt to have a good night. And I didn’t think there was anything wrong with a good night. He was confined to living at the kennel. Wasn’t that enough? None of his self-inflicted restrictions would change the past. I wish he could just see it that way.
I made my way back to the blanket, stopping next to his feet. Wyatt reached a hand up to pull me down to the blanket. I clasped my fingers around his, giving him a teasing grin to lighten his mood. Settling between his thighs, I pulled the extra blanket up over our legs before leaning back into his chest. His arms circled around my body, holding me tightly, squeezing me with the intensity of his thoughts.
“Thank you for all of this,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve—”
“Shh.” I turned my neck enough to press my lips over his. “Just enjoy tonight for me, okay?”
“Okay,” he whispered, and I heard the surrender in his gruff voice.
Wyatt seemed to relax, letting his hands wander over my skin until his fingers intertwined with mine. We leaned back into the mound of pillows he had propped up against the coffee table. His chin rested next to my cheek. I felt his warm breath on my skin as the opening credits spilled across the side of the building, just slightly crooked and just a little blurry, but very peaceful and sweet and wonderful—and just as I’d imagined as I’d sat daydreaming at the bookstore today.
We finished off one of the buckets of popcorn as the sounds of the movie filled the quiet air of the open country. It wasn’t loud enough to shake our seats, but the speaker worked pretty well when the dinosaurs crashed across the screen. I learned that Wyatt liked Spielberg even though he thought the movie wasn’t very close to the book. But neither of us cared. We loved it anyway. I stayed curled up in his arms even after the end credits disappeared and the screen went black.
“You want to watch another one?” I looked up at him. He pushed a curl off my face, letting his hand cup the side of my cheek. I kissed the tip of his thumb as he touched my lips.
“Don’t you have to work early at the nursing home?”
I let out a sigh. “I do. I have a five-a.m. shift tomorrow.”
“We should get this packed up then so you can go home.”
“I don’t want to leave,” I muttered.
Wyatt clutched me to his chest. “I don’t want you to leave either.”
So we didn’t move. My eyes closed, listening to the quiet sounds around us—the bugs and the chilly breeze moving the grass. And I drifted away into the feel of his body. The way his chest moved as he breathed. The way his fingers stayed curled around my breast. The way his left hand rested on my thigh. The way his nose stayed buried down in the scarf around my neck.
It wasn’t wild and breathtaking. Instead it was the stillness that made this moment weave around my heart as Wyatt held me in a comfortable and sleepy embrace.
“I liked movie night,” I mumbled. “But I know it wasn’t as good as a real theater.”
“It was better,” he whispered. “Because you did this for me. I don’t think a real theater will ever compare. Even when I take you to a real one, I will still think about this night with you.”
I couldn’t find the words to say back to Wyatt. He was making plans and promises again. He made me feel like I was falling right through the sky as he held me tight, while on a simple blanket spread out across the ground.
So I didn’t say anything and snuggled as close as I could to his body. I wanted to stay like this forever. I wanted the future he was gradually promising. My thoughts got sleepy, and then I drifted slowly away.
“Emma.” He shook me a little. “Wake up. It’s really late.”
“Okay.” But I didn’t move.
“Come on.” He shifted me off his lap, disturbing Charlie in the process. “Why don’t you take him back to the kennel? I’ll put all of this back in your car.”
“Okay.” I didn’t have the energy to argue.
Lifting up Charlie, he gave me a half lick before closing his eyes again. We stumbled back around to the side door. I carried him down the aisle. A few dogs woke up enough to come to the gates. Placing Charlie inside, he walked slowly over to his bed and fell against the soft padding.
I shut the pen and I dragged my sleepy body through the building. If I didn’t have to be at work so early, I would just stay the night. But I didn’t bring my scrubs and I would have to leave at 4:15, which was in about three hours.
Something caught my attention and I stopped walking, realizing my feet were next to Cye’s pen—or rather, the home of Betty and Cye. Bending down, I saw his single brown eye, watching from the other side of the fence. I swear, every time I looked at him, he broke my heart just a little bit more until there was nothing but dust in my chest.
I stuck my fingers inside the pen and waited. He slowly came over, lying down against the wire. And he let me touch him, very softy, very lightly, behind the ears. And then he rolled over, giving me his fuzzy belly.
Tears threatened to pour down my cheeks. This was a new one, something he had never done for me or Wyatt.
“That’s a good boy,” I whispered. I loved this dog. Plain and simple. I loved him and his courage to trust again. If Cye could make this kind of progress, he might just get himself adopted.
I heard the door open at the front of the building. Giving Cye one last rub on the stomach, I got up from the cement and made my way over to where Wyatt stood by the office.
“Cye rolled over for me,” I whispered. “He let me pet his belly.”
“His belly?”
“Yeah. His big ol’ fuzzy belly.”
“Huh,” he muttered, giving me a grin. “Well, he always liked you better.”
“He likes us the same.”
Wyatt put an arm around my waist as we walked out to my car. “Everything’s packed up in the backseat.”
“Thank you.”
He rested his hands on my shoulders, fiddling with my scarf. I knew he was sad that I was leaving and he was worried about me driving in the middle of the night. I wished that I could say, I’ll text you when I get home. But that’s not how things worked between us.
“I’ll be okay,” I whispered.
“I know. I just . . . I know.” He let out a deep breath, pulling me to his chest. His mouth found my lips, tugging possessively until they were slightly sore from his kiss. And then he abruptly released me. Backing away a few steps, Wyatt let his eyes wander over me as he slipped away into some hazy stare in the moonlit shadows.
“What?”
“I’m just trying to remember you like this.” His low voice hung on each word. “With your hair falling down around your shoulders and that sleepy look in your eyes. And your lips all red from me kissing you. That’s what I want to remember. When I’m out here alone and I feel like I’m losing my mind. I want to picture you like this.”
I stared back at him, feeling my heart beat wildly in my chest. After a few moments, I climbed inside my car and drove away as my insides turned into complete mush. That might be the sweetest and most heart-wrenching thing Wyatt had ever said to me.
THE LAST SEVERAL DAYS HAD been a whirlwind of class and work. Sitting at a stoplight, I rubbed the back of my neck. A knot was forming right under the base of my skull. My eyes drifted closed as the fatigue sat into my body. I had studied almost all night for my chemistry test. I didn’t know how the full-time students handled the pressure. I only had two classes.
I knew it took me longer than some people to understand things. School had never been easy for me. And Blaire had more time to invest in being some award-winning student. She gave a few music lessons on the side, but her scholarship pretty much paid for everything else while I worked two jobs. Not that I saw it as an excuse. Lots of people worked while in school
, and I didn’t need a first-in-class medal. I just needed to make a B. That would get me into the nursing program.
A horn blared from behind, making me sit straight up in the driver’s seat. I put my foot on the pedal and shot forward from the light. I just prayed I did well on my test even though my head wasn’t quite together today.
The blood was still pumping fast through my body as I pulled into my apartment complex. My neck spasm had grown into a full-fledged migraine. I wanted to rest my head against the steering wheel instead of taking the effort of going upstairs, but I peeled myself out of the seat anyway.
My dark-blue scrubs smelled from spilling applesauce down the front this morning at the nursing home. I still wore the stained clothes at four in the afternoon because I didn’t have a chance to change into something else before going to take my test.
Ugh. I needed a shower. And I needed to check on Mr. Hughes. It had been a couple of days since I’d seen my neighbor or Blaire for that matter. She had run through the living room yesterday, clutching her laptop with her big tuba bag over her shoulder. It was hard not to see a giant elephant smashing through the apartment even though she pretended I wasn’t there.
Shuffling over to the bottom of the stairs, I paused, seeing something out of the corner of my eye. Those same two dog crates had reappeared outside the manager’s office. I told myself to let it go. My whole life would be much simpler if I could just walk away, but I just wasn’t that kind of person.
Besides, that’s what started this whole new chapter of my life anyway. I couldn’t walk away from Charlie. I couldn’t walk away from Wyatt. If I had to do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. Wyatt and those dogs consumed a huge chunk of my existence. And it was the thought of another one bleeding in Kurt’s crate that stopped me from going up the stairs.
Letting out a deep breath, I checked around for signs of anyone else in the parking lot. I moved swiftly over toward his door. I just needed to take a quick peek inside the crates to see if they were empty or if they contained another Charlie. The thought made my stomach ache.
I looked quickly in the first, seeing nothing but an empty cage. My nose filled with the rancid odor of urine. The other was just the same. I straightened up, wanting to take a peek around the corner into his office. Kurt must have put them somewhere. I just didn’t know if it was here or off the property.
“You need something or just poking your nose into other people’s shit?”
The blood drained from my face as I heard his voice come up behind me. Turning around, I gave him a half smile. “Just you, Kurt. I . . . um . . . Mr. Hughes’s kitchen faucet has been dripping. Thought you might have some tools to fix it.”
The lie came off clunky, but I hoped it was at least believable. Kurt licked his bottom lip, giving me a half smirk as his eyes slide over to the crates and back up to me. He shifted his weight to his other leg, sticking his hand down in his front pocket of his ragged jeans.
“You tell that old man I ain’t doing shit. He’s leaving soon and can just deal with it. I don’t give a damn if the water don’t work at all.” The glint in his eyes was just a little off, just a little creepy as he stared at the applesauce stain on the front of my scrubs. The chilly wind hit me in the back, and I shuddered.
“Well, thanks, Kurt. I’ll give him the message.” Not wanting to argue with his stupid statement, I walked quickly over to the stairs without looking back at his strange glare.
I shoved my key into the lock and darted inside my apartment. With the door shut behind me, I turned the deadbolt and walked slowly to the kitchen to grab a few Tylenol. I noticed Blair’s door shut. For once, I guess my sister was home.
I rinsed off in the shower and put on a pair of sweats with my fuzzy boots. Slipping on a T-shirt, I went back out in the hallway, looking at her closed door again.
All joking aside, I missed Blaire. I missed talking to my sister. Not that our conversations were exactly normal, but our discussions had always been that way. So to me, they were normal. For the last several years, she’d been the only friend in my life. My weird, eccentric, paranoid friend—and I missed her.
Giving Blaire’s door one last glance, I headed over to check on Mr. Hughes. I walked across the upstairs landing between the apartments. Looking down in the parking lot toward the manager’s office, I noticed the crates were missing. Whatever game Kurt was playing, he had decided to hide the evidence again.
I gave my neighbor’s apartment door a few hard knocks before turning the knob. It was open as usual. Mr. Hughes was more trusting than me.
“Hello,” I yelled inside. I closed the door behind me, seeing the whole living room surrounded in a wall of brown boxes. The realization of his move hit me again. I had chosen to ignore the reality until I couldn’t anymore.
“In here, Emma.”
I followed the sound of his voice until I found Mr. Hughes sitting on the side of his bed with more boxes.
“Where did you get all of the stuff?”
“Well, your sister was a sweetheart and dropped them off.”
“Blaire?” I couldn’t contain the gasp. Oh no. Mr. Hughes was getting worse and hallucinating.
“Yeah, thought I should get started packing since I’m leaving in a couple of weeks. Blair has been helping me some. That girl’s not like you. She’s got a mouth on her. Always back-talking and swearing.”
Nope. No hallucination. “What do you mean my sister has been helping you?”
“You know, running some errands and helping me clear up some stuff before I leave. I let her drive my car since I’m not using it.”
And that answered my question on her means of transportation the last couple of weeks. My sister had been using poor Mr. Hughes for his car to avoid talking to me.
“I’m sorry. I hate to run, but I need to take care of something. I promise to come back later with Blaire—and we will help you start packing stuff.”
“Okay. Whatever you need to do.”
I heard part of the words, but I was already halfway out of the apartment. I stormed through his door and back into mine, slamming the heavy metal behind me. I stopped outside of Blair’s bedroom and decided knocking would accomplish nothing. I barged inside, seeing her eyes widen and her skin turn a little pale. I plopped down beside her on the bed as my sister scrambled to get her laptop as far away as possible from me.
“Get the hell out of my room!” Her gaze burned deep with anger.
I replied with a simple and smirky, “No.”
“I mean it, Emma.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and my legs like a pretzel on her bedspread. “I’m not moving until you get over whatever has you mad at me.”
“Damn it. Get out!” she growled.
“I mean it, Blaire. I’m sitting on your bed until this is fixed. And you know I will.”
She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “I will just leave you in here.”
“Then I will follow you like a shadow. I’ll stare two inches from your face as you sleep. And while you eat. I’ll even sit on the toilet while you are in the shower. Or maybe I’ll get in there too. I’ll haunt you, Blaire. Every step. I’ll follow you to class. And band practice. I’ll be right there, Blaire. Every single step until you think I’m some ghost you can’t shake.”
“And people think I’m the crazy twin.” She scooted away, but I caught a glimpse of her laptop screen before she could get off the bed.
“What are you doing with that?” I gasped.
I lunged for the computer as she tried to twist away. We fought for a moment—me tugging and climbing on top of Blair while my sister tried yanking the laptop out of my fingers. I hadn’t physically fought with my twin in years. Neither of us was really stronger than the other. I got in a few elbow jabs and she rammed her knee into my stomach. But it was the small push with my hip that sent Blaire down in the floor, ending the scuffle over the computer. She shoved her glasses back on her nose.
“Emma, don’t!” she sque
aled. My eyes took in the image and I shot a confused look at my sister as she got up from the floor.
“Why do you have a picture of me up on your screen?”
“That’s not you. It’s me.”
“No. I’m pretty sure I know what I look like. That’s me. Not you. So what are you doing with a picture of me—that you think is you?”
“Fuck.” She fell on the bed next to me, covering her face with a pillow.
“Whoa.” I flipped through the screens open on the laptop. “You are trying to send someone called M-Attack815 a picture of yourself? But it’s really of me?”
“Same thing.” Her voice came out muffled.
“No, that’s not the same thing. And who is M-Attack815?” I yanked the pillow from her face. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No, he’s just someone I . . . um . . . talk to online.”
“Are you serious? How did you meet M-Attack815? Does he know where we live? Did you give him our address? You seriously did not give him our address.”
“Calm down. I’m not you.”
“Oh, that was low, Blaire. For all you know, he could be some sixty-year-old man who likes feet—or Kurt. He could be Kurt pretending to be normal. You could have found Kurt on the Internet and you’re sending him a picture of me.”
“Oh, hell, he’s not Kurt. Besides, he could get his own picture of you without me. You’d just waltz right into his office and pose for him, Emma.”
We stared at each other until I started laughing at the absolute ridiculousness of our fight. I stretched out on the bed next to my sister.
“Tell me about him,” I whispered.
Blaire didn’t answer me for a while. “We met playing a game online. It’s that stupid one with the avatars. The one you make fun of.”
“So you met him in your game. How long has it been going on?”
“About a month. His name is Matt. He’s goes to school in Norman. Engineering major. I checked him out. Everything seems legit. He sent me a picture last week, and I don’t know. I’ve been stalling.”
Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1) Page 24
