Waiting for Wyatt (Red Dirt #1)

by S. D. Hendrickson

  “Well, I love her.”

  She laughed faintly. “I know. And that makes me happy because I want you to be happy.”

  Those words were hard for me to hear, but I didn’t argue. We stared at the ceiling, not speaking as she rested. Our relationship was so different now than when we had been kids. Adult issues and adult mistakes.

  “I’ve been emailing with a doctor in Boston.”

  “You have?” I glanced over at Willa, seeing her eyes still closed.

  “Yeah. He thinks there’s a good shot at fixing me with surgery.”

  Shit! My stomach tightened at the layered meaning of her words. Part of me wanted to jump up and down. But part of me knew there must be some risk or another doctor would have suggested surgery already.

  “I’m gonna do it, Wyatt. I’m not sure when it’s going to happen, but I’ve already made up my mind so don’t try to guilt me into backing out.”

  “I won’t.” My throat felt raw as I swallowed back the words I wanted to say. “I will support whatever you decide to do.”

  “Thank you.”

  I thought about my sister. She was in charge of her own health at this point. Willa had turned nineteen a couple of months ago. And she lived every day in that body. If she wanted to try to fix the damage, I didn’t think any of us should stop her.

  My eyes closed as the afternoon sun drifted through the window. And then as I was falling asleep, I heard my sister whisper, “I visit him for you.”

  “Who?”

  “Trevor. Mom takes me out there sometimes, and I leave flowers. I figured no one else would visit him.”

  Her news made me both sad and happy. “Thank you.”

  And then I asked the question that had tumbled around in my head for quite some time. “Is that the only reason you visit him?”

  She didn’t answer immediately as I searched my memory from the night of the accident. Willa had been sitting in the chair with Trevor. She had been sitting in his lap. That part had set me on fire when I’d first seen them on the back porch. But afterward, when I’d had plenty of time to mull over all those thoughts, that scene had never quite made sense. Why was Willa sitting in Trevor’s lap?

  “I don’t know what you mean, Wyatt?”

  The sadness in her voice stopped me from asking the question again. She had confirmed my suspicions. I had my answer, but not the one I’d really wanted to hear. But I guess that was okay. Neither of us could change the past at this point. We all would have chosen differently that night. Would have? Could have? Those did absolutely nothing. It was time to move forward.

  “Nothing. Just get some rest. I’ll stay in here with you.”

  My sister fell asleep while I stared at the ceiling. I had a lot of questions, but some questions should just stay unanswered.

  Letting out a deep breath, some of the weight lifted off my shoulders. I felt calmer than I had in years. Things were better with my family, and I was finally mending some of the broken pieces of my life.

  When I finally pulled my bike out of the garage, they each hugged me goodbye. My family understood my need to be somewhere else—with someone else. Even though they didn’t say it, I think everyone knew who was responsible for changing me. For pulling me out of the gutter.

  As I drove down the highway, I noticed the red and orange leaves changing on the trees. I felt the warm breeze touching my face. I savored every piece of this freedom.

  It didn’t take long to find the little house. Knocking several times, I waited nervously on the porch. The sound of dogs echoed from behind the old wood door, but Emma never answered. I finally sat down on the cement, leaning back against the house. It reminded me of all the times I had waited for her to show up at the kennel, except this time I would be surprising Emma. A smile spread across my face. I had made Diana promise not to tell her about my release.

  Several hours passed as I waited on the porch. The sun fell slightly in the sky, making an orange glow across the clouds. I felt so damn nervous. I shouldn’t be nervous, but telling myself not to be nervous didn’t make me any less fucking nervous.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her little white car pull into the driveway. I stood up, wiping my palms across the legs of my jeans. Walking to the edge of the porch, I smiled, seeing her struggle with two brown sacks of groceries. Her blonde hair fell in soft curls against her flowery dress. She was just as beautiful as I’d remembered.

  “Here, let me help you,” I said, going toward her.

  Hearing my voice, Emma looked up as the bags crashed to the ground. Apples rolled across the cement. She didn’t move as her eyes watered up. I closed the gap, pulling her to my chest.

  “Is this real?” she whispered against my T-shirt.

  “Yes.” My fingers traced lightly over her back as she buried her tears in my chest. “Don’t cry,” I whispered.

  “Happy tears.” She sniffed.

  “Let me get your stuff, and you can show me the house.” I felt her head nod against my chest, but her arms didn’t let go. “It’s okay. I’m not going anywhere. You can let go for a minute.”

  Emma reluctantly released her grip and backed away. I scooped her groceries back into the sack, minus a few apples. “You’re early? Why didn’t you tell me that you were getting out early?”

  “I wasn’t sure it was going to happen. And I needed some time with my parents and Willa. And if you knew I was out, then I would just want to rush here.”

  “You stayed with them?” Her eyes grew brighter as we walked back to the front door.

  “Yeah. It was good.” I smiled.

  “Good.” She wiped another tear off her cheek. I held the bags in my arms as she unlocked the door. I don’t know why I’d gotten nervous seeing Emma. It felt the same even though it was almost a year later in a different city. She felt the same and smelled the same. And in just a few minutes, I knew everything was going to be okay.

  “The kitchen is to the right.” Charlie lunged at Emma the moment the door opened, followed by Lola.

  I went into the house, placing the sacks on the counter. It wasn’t a very big place, but it seemed perfect for her. A square body almost tripped me. Lola went crazy as I petted the old girl. And out of the shadows, Cye made his way cautiously into the kitchen like he wasn’t sure if I was real either. I approached him slowly, running my hands over his battered head.

  “I guess you didn’t forget me,” I said as the dog rolled over on the tile. I rubbed his exposed stomach.

  Glancing up at Emma, I felt a sudden catch in my chest. She still seemed a little shell-shocked from my sudden reappearance. I felt protective of her. Something I’d struggled with at the kennel. But here, it was different. I could finally take care of her. Be the person Emma deserved to have in her life. I got up from the floor and went over to her. My hands circled her waist, pulling her little body close to me. She felt so real, so warm and full of love as her eyes held on to mine.

  I kissed her. And then she melted against me. My tongue touched her mouth. I had spent many lonely nights remembering the taste of her cinnamon lips. But tonight, she felt softer and sweeter than I’d remembered. I couldn’t get enough. My fingers found their way down to her bare thighs. I traced over her soft skin before slipping under the fabric, touching her solid lace panties. My palms cupped each butt cheek as I pushed her tighter into my hips, making everything in me light on fire.

  I had missed the feel of her. I had missed the way she pressed against me, begging me to be inside of her. That girl made everything in my head disappear except for the need to hear her soft moans as I pushed her body over the edge. And I needed it right now. I had planned on dinner and maybe some talking first, but all of that could wait.

  “Show me the rest of the house,” I whispered against her lips.

  “Huh, um . . . what?” She seemed confused, and then her cheeks got a little pink. Emma peeled herself away from me. Taking my hand, she pulled me through the living room. “Bookshelf.” She pointed over by the w
all. As I scanned the familiar titles, a warm feeling caught me in the chest. “Couch,” she muttered as I followed behind her. Going into the tiny hallway, she nodded at the closed door. “Bathroom.”

  And then we reached our destination. I had never seen her bedroom. My eyes drifted across the dresser and yellow bedspread before going back to the girl who had haunted my dreams. She took the final few steps, lying down across the brightly colored bed. It suited her. All cheery and warm. All Emma.

  I unfastened my belt and tugged the zipper, letting my jeans fall down to my ankles. My fingers ran up her soft thighs, tugging the edge of those lacy panties. They moved smoothly down to her ankles. Tossing them to the floor, I climbed on top of Emma. I kissed her softly, running my tongue against hers. As I settled between her legs, the flowery dress bunched up around our hips. I wanted her like this. I wanted her in that beautiful dress on that yellow bedspread like the sun was shining all around her. She looked so innocent and beautiful.

  “Look at me, Emmy.” Her eyes held onto mine as I pushed deep inside her. The real Emma was more incredible than all the memories. As I moved inside her sweet, warm body, she whispered, “I love you,” over and over against my neck. I got lost in her kisses. I got lost in the way she wrapped herself around me. As my past slowly disappeared, I got lost in my future. I got lost in Emma.

  WYATT HAD COME HOME. I could barely breathe from the flutters of excitement overtaking every emotion. We spent the next day basically in my bed. Our bed. He was staying. Diana had made arrangements for Wyatt to work at a dog shelter in Tulsa until the terms of his parole were completed. He was staying with me. We were staying together.

  Every moment felt like a new beginning. He was different. He felt different. Lighter. Younger. We ventured out to a movie theater. We had dinner at a restaurant. According to Wyatt, that night was technically our first date. And then a few days later, he took me dancing. I learned something new about Wyatt Carter. He was really good at dancing, all sweet and sexy as he guided me across the floor.

  I loved spending time with him. And I loved him. I didn’t think it was possible to love him more than I had a year ago. But I did. I loved that Wyatt and I loved this Wyatt, the one who woke every morning with a giant smile spread across his lips.

  And I loved walking outside of the little house, seeing the familiar silver and black bike parked in the driveway. It was funny. Every time I saw Priscilla, I thought about Mr. Hughes.

  My old neighbor and I still exchanged letters. I had even mailed him a picture of me sitting right on the back of Priscilla. And in return, Mr. Hughes had sent a weathered photo of a familiar, younger man, sitting astride the very same motorcycle on the California coast.

  Wyatt and I road everywhere together while the weather was still warm. We visited his family. And he finally met mine. My father gave him a leery stare at first, but he had a private talk with Wyatt, which seemed to settle his nerves. I didn’t know the words that transpired between them, and probably never would. However, the whole family eventually warmed up to the idea of Wyatt. How could they not? He loved me and would break every bone in his body before ever hurting me.

  Everything seemed surreal as our future plans gradually came to light. Wyatt talked about all the ideas he had for us. For him. And I knew every one of those ideas tied back to something that provided redemption to his soul.

  And then one afternoon, I came home from work and found Wyatt on the phone with Diana. His face was tight with emotion as he spoke to her. “I promise. I’m okay. I need to do this.”

  He listened as she talked, nodding his head a few times. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  After they hung up, Wyatt came back into the living room. He wrapped his arms tight around me, clutching me against his chest.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He buried his nose into my hair, pressing his lips gently against my neck. “I called Diana.”

  “I figured out that part.”

  “I’ve been thinking about what I said to you last year. How I want to make this better. I told Diana that I would like to get a group together to talk to some of the high schools in the area. Like a panel thing. I . . . um . . . I’m going to tell my story.”

  My thoughts spun back to all the times I had begged him to share his story, to share the piece that had twisted him up so tight. And now, he was willing to share that story with strangers in an effort to right his wrongs. I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Are you ready to do that yet?”

  “I doubt that I will ever be ready.”

  “I know,” I whispered.

  He held me tighter, letting out a deep breath. “But I need to do it, whether I’m ready or not. And I won’t hold anything back or sugarcoat the truth. If it stops just one person, then it’s worth exploiting my sins to the world.”

  My heart ached for him. I knew this was important to Wyatt. “You can do this.”

  “Only because of you, Emma. You make me feel like I can do anything.”

  We stayed cuddled up on the couch as Cye slept on the floor in front of us. Wyatt kissed the back of my neck and whispered, “There’s something else I want to do.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve been thinking about a contract you signed last year.”

  “A contract?” I turned around in his arms, giving Wyatt a funny look.

  “Something about Emma Sawyer jumping out of a plane with Wyatt Carter.”

  My eyes got a little big. “Oh, that contract.”

  “I’ve been looking into it. You can go or just watch.” He pressed his lips to mine, kissing me softly. “I was kidding about the contract.”

  I shook my head. “No, I want to jump.”

  “You sure?” His eyes teased me with the challenge.

  “I signed the contract. I’m going.” My sister was right. It was just a matter of time before my stupid decisions would get me killed.

  A few days later, I climbed on the back of Priscilla, wrapping my arms around Wyatt. We took off toward the sky-diving place outside of town. I loved riding with him, holding on tight with my body pressed snug against his shoulders, feeling my hair swirl around in the cool November air.

  The training class lasted most of the morning. With each practice session, I questioned my sanity. But he seemed so alive, so excited like the bricks were falling off his shoulders with every smile.

  Before we got on the plane, Wyatt pulled something from his pocket and handed it to me. I studied the little photo of three boys about twelve years old. They were sitting on a bench, in their football pads with the evening sunshine setting in the background. He had been just as cute at twelve as he was at twenty-three. And I knew without asking, the other two were Marcus and Trevor.

  I handed Wyatt the photo back. He slipped it inside the pocket of his faded jeans before fastening the harness around his body. Suddenly, I understood why this was so important. He was jumping for them; a memorial to the three boys who no longer existed. My throat felt tight as I fought back the tears. I knew this would never truly be over for Wyatt, but somehow, he had finally learned to move forward and to live with it.

  As we reached the final altitude, we watched the other couple in the class go first. And then it was our turn. We got close to the edge. The wind howled outside the door. My stomach flip-flopped at the prospect of launching myself out into the open air.

  But somewhere inside, I got that feeling, the one that always filled my senses as I reached that pivotal point when running. The mind-blowing rush that transcended into a beautiful release. I knew without a shadow of a doubt, this would be fifty times greater. I got a little giddy and laughed. Turning to face Wyatt, our eyes locked in a burning stare full of excitement.

  “I love you,” he yelled. I barely heard him over the sounds of the engines and blowing wind. He flashed a big smile, letting those dimples settle deep on the corners of his cheeks. “See you on the other side.”

  Wyatt and the instructor jumped tandem out the door. I watched
him fall through the open sky with that picture buried in his pocket. A deep rush of adrenaline shot through my skin, and I couldn’t wait to go with him. My instructor had us pause for a few moments, and then I jumped too.

  As the air hit my face, the tingles went from my head to my toes. It was the most incredible feeling. I saw Wyatt’s parachute open below us. I smiled, seeing him float away in the breeze. He was finally free. And I knew in that moment, everything in our lives would be okay.

  If this were a movie, the credits would roll and a song would play.

  And if so, it would be this one.

  Look it up. Give it a listen while picturing Wyatt and Emma falling through the clouds, seeing their red parachutes open as they float over the world together.

  Thank you for reading Waiting for Wyatt. I wanted to write a book about rescue dogs and then I built the human story around it. I hope you enjoyed both the animal and human side of the novel.

  I also would like to thank all the readers who took a chance on The Mason List. It was not a perfect story, but you loved it anyway. You told friends and promoted it on social media. You wrote reviews and featured it on blogs. And you sent personal messages and comments, letting me know how much the story meant to you. Thank you!

  And the bloggers. You embraced a new author and shared the story with your followers. Your passion and devotion make the indie book world possible. I am very grateful for everything that you do. Please know that I try to read every single review and social media post. It’s been fun getting to know so many of you. Thank you so much for your support!

  And thank you to Aestas Cross for being the first blogger who was ecstatic about The Mason List before it was even released. You are just as fun and nice in person as you are online.

  My new author friends. You have been supportive, letting me ask tons of questions and sharing my books with your friends and followers. Thank you for being so nice and welcoming!