Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1)

by S. D. Hendrickson

  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.”

  A flash of sadness echoed in her eyes as she stated the terms. I’m sure this pained Diana. Not only did she put herself on the line for Wyatt, but she’d become his caretaker the last few years. She had tried to help him, save him, and keep him out of actual prison. And in one evening of complete stupidity, I’d brought down the whole house of cards.

  She stared at Wyatt for a moment before turning her gaze to the prosecution. “I can give you a thirty-minute recess to discuss.”

  Wyatt leaned over and whispered something to his lawyer. The man nodded his head before looking at the judge. “Your Honor, my client doesn’t need a recess. He would like to accept the offer.”

  I heard the painful cry come from his mom. The room spun slightly as the words sunk into my heart. I couldn’t stop the wild thoughts of Wyatt locked away alone in a cell. What would prison do to him? What if the dark clouds inside his mind suffocated the life out of him? Or maybe something even worse. Maybe he wouldn’t be alone. Maybe he would be tossed inside with a man who had stabbed a whole family in a cabin in the woods.

  My lips were numb, and I wanted to scream no, but I guess there really wasn’t another alternative. Actually, the alternative was for much longer if the prosecution didn’t agree to the proposal.

  My eyes glossed over as I looked in the direction of Fred Tucker. Maybe the words of Judge Sweetwater had finally made a difference in him. The DA whispered frantically with the mayor. He glanced over his shoulder a few times, looking at his son.

  I felt sorry for Marcus. This must be so incredibly hard for him, torn between his family and his friend. Marcus spoke to his father too low for me to hear, but I saw the way he pleaded with his eyes, begging him to let this go. And finally, his father nodded back in agreement.

  The DA stood up and faced Judge Sweetwater. “Mayor Fred Tucker has been the voice of the people affected by the circumstances of this case. And we both agree to the new terms.”

  Diana nodded her head, looking at Wyatt. She didn’t say anything for a moment as her lips pursed into an expression I couldn’t read. “Mr. Carter, do you understand what is about to happen?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Okay.” She nodded her head. “I will give you a few minutes to talk to your family. And for everyone else.” Her eyes drifted across the courtroom before settling on Fred Tucker. “When he gets out, this is over. It’s time for everyone to get back to living.”

  Her gavel echoed in the courtroom. The stillness filled with the low chatter of the people behind us. It got louder, consuming my head as I tried to process what had just happened. The air seemed heavy as I pulled in breath after breath.

  I stayed in my seat, watching Wyatt be escorted toward the little brown wall separating us from him. Wyatt’s father got up first. He went over to his son. They talked for a few moments. Wyatt nodded along to whatever words transpired between them—maybe words of promises or encouragement. I wasn’t sure, but it all came across civil as he listened intently to his father. And toward the end, the large man reached forward, engulfing his son in a huge embrace.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. The older man let go, making room for his mother. I looked at the floor. This exchange wasn’t something I wanted to witness. I heard Willa get up from her seat. Scooting over to the edge, I caught a glimpse of her long brown hair as she flung herself around his shoulders.

  I closed my eyes, preparing myself for the moment. And for a brief second, I wished for this to be one of his nightmares. That maybe I had been pulled along into his vivid dream sequence. I wished to wake up in his bed. I wished for him to pull me into his arms, telling me it was only a dream—a nasty and terrible nightmare.

  “It’s your turn,” Willa whispered next to me.

  My eyes abruptly opened, seeing him just a few feet away with one very important brown wall separating us. I walked toward Wyatt as the sound of the courtroom faded away. I reached his side, seeing the smile on his face as he flashed those dimples. They usually made a spark sizzle in my chest, but this time they just made me want to cry.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered.

  He nodded, never taking his eyes off me. “I’m okay.”

  “I tried to come see you, but they wouldn’t let me.”

  Wyatt cupped the sides of my face. “You look beautiful, Emma.”

  I tried to smile at his compliment. This morning, I had done my best to look nice just for him. I curled my hair and put on a long-sleeved flowery dress with leggings and my brown boots. I had worked hard on my eye makeup, which was currently smudged all around my face.

  “Wyatt, I’m so sorry.” I tried so very hard to hold it together, but nothing worked. I sniffed, feeling the wetness run off my lashes. “I-I’m sorry. I caused all of this.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “But you are going to prison. Actual real prison. What if something happens to you? I just wanted to help you and now look what I’ve done.” I choked on the words, making the rest come out as mumbled. “I-I should have just l-left you alone.”

  “Emmy baby, don’t cry.” He wiped the tears off with his thumb. “You saved me, from myself. I was rotting away out there. And you found me. You convinced me I was worth saving.” His lips got close to mine. “And you loved me. Remember? You loved the good and the bad. And because of that love, I’m going to be okay in there. So don’t worry.”

  “How am I supposed to not worry about you?” I sniffled.

  “Just try, okay? I don’t want you sitting around, waiting for me to get out. Keep living, and I will see you when it’s over.”

  I nodded. “And I’ll come see you every week. It will be just like coming out to the kennel, just—”

  “No, Emma.” His gruff voice cut on the words as the pain flashed in his eyes. “I don’t want to see you there.”

  “You don’t want to see me?” My heart crunched like a wad of aluminum foil before it’s tossed in the trash.

  “I love you. But I can’t bring myself to see you there. You are so sweet and innocent and everything that is good about my life. You don’t belong in a place like that. But it’s going to be okay. I won’t stop loving you. And I hope you won’t stop loving me.” His voice cracked on the words. “But I would understand if you did.”

  “How could you even say that?” I pleaded.

  “I just wanted to give you an out.”

  “There’s no out, Wyatt. I love you so much.” My hand touched his chest. “I love who you are in here. Nothing will stop that. No matter what happens in there. Remember that.”

  “You are everything to me.” The words whispered like a breath across my lips before he kissed me. It was hard and full of emotion as we both knew it would be our last kiss for a very long time. We struggled to get closer, but the wall kept us apart. And finally when I didn’t have a breath left in me, he lifted his mouth from mine.

  “I have to go now.” His smile was heartbreaking. “But I will be thinking of you. Every
day and every minute until I see you on the other side.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, neither of us willing to mutter an actual goodbye. Those words had always seemed so final for us—whether it was for twenty-four hours, two days, or twelve months.

  My heart struggled to beat. In the hazy fog, I turned around first. I couldn’t bear to see them put the cuffs on again. I couldn’t bear to see him walk away. So I turned around. I let him watch me walk away—one last time.

  Several people flashed me curious glances, having witnessed our final moments together. Several others fought back the urge to fling a few insults at me for being involved with the boy who burned down that dang town. But I didn’t care. Not that I ever did when it came to Wyatt. I believed with all my heart that he deserved a second chance at life and I planned to give it to him.

  I stepped outside the courthouse. The clouds were as dark as my mood. And then I saw my sister. She was waiting by my car with her arm in the sling. The doctor said she had to wear the contraption for a few weeks until the muscles healed. Her little blue wool hat was sitting crooked on her stringy blonde hair, making Blaire seem younger than twenty-one.

  “You’re not supposed to be driving. How did you get here?”

  “Mom dropped me off a few minutes ago. I thought maybe you could use some company.” Her sympathy was genuine, which seemed so strange. But I was too numb to question it.

  “They are sending him to prison for a year.” A tear fell down my cheek as I said the words.

  “I know. I heard people talking. These jerks really don’t like him.” She shook her head. “Too bad. They are really missing out. Wyatt would make one badass hunting guide.”

  I smiled at her attempt to cheer me up. She walked over to the passenger’s side of my car. We both climbed inside the cab, but I didn’t even start the engine. I wasn’t sure how to continue or where to continue. Should I just drive home? Sit on my couch? Eat dinner? Try to have Thanksgiving tomorrow? Go back to classes next week? I didn’t know how to carry on, knowing Wyatt would be alone in a cell.