by Erin Wright
With a quiet groan, Wyatt leaned his head back against the wall. What had he already told himself about sexy women named Abby Connelly? He couldn’t get involved. He couldn’t even look. It wasn’t fair.
What else wasn’t fair? Being stuck in his cell while Declan got to go do things. Wyatt wished he could just give his solemn promise not to run away and have that be enough to convince Abby to let him help. More than the loneliness, more than the worry that his farm was going to shit and his dog was slowly wasting away without him – which at least that worry was completely founded – was how rough it was to just be cooped up in a cell all day.
He ran his fingers through Maggie’s mangy coat mindlessly as his body filled with restless energy. Day in, day out, to sit in a cell and stare at the same walls and read the same books and eat the same food, with only two chances a day to stretch his legs…it was maddening, especially for someone who was used to being outside most of the day, working in the fields or during the winter, working in the barn. Riding his horse, Elvis, along his fences, checking for breaks.
Anything but just sitting and staring.
Maggie, seemingly sensing his restlessness, began stirring beneath his fingers, and then with a shake of her fur, she jumped off the bed and walked to the cell door, nosing against it and whining.
Wyatt thought for a moment that she’d been reading his mind and was trying to say she wanted to go be free in the world, and then he realized that rather than an existential crisis about where her life was going, it was much more likely that she just needed to take a leak.
Rolling his eyes at himself, he pushed himself off the bed and rattled the bars of the cell. “Abby! Declan!” he called out, Maggie whining beside him. “I’ll get you outside in just a minute,” Wyatt promised her, scratching her behind the ears. “They’re going to make me come back and pick up all your shit when the snow melts in the spring, you know.” As much as Wyatt didn’t look forward to the idea, he was still thankful they let her in here to be with him. As awful as it was to be cooped up in his cell all day, having her with him was already giving him some of his sanity back.
Abby hurried down the cell block toward him, her arms filled with blankets and flashlights. Declan trailed behind her with pillows in his arms.
At Wyatt’s quizzical look, she said, “No emergency generator means no heat and no lights. We’ll have to make do for tonight.”
“Well, Maggie Mae needs a trip outside if you know what I mean,” Wyatt said with a wry grin. “Her whines are getting louder by the moment, I swear.” She was nudging his leg rather insistently, and Wyatt just patted her reassuringly. “We’ll get you outside, girl.”
Abby opened the cell door and stepped to the side. “Go on outside with her. Don’t let the door close behind you – it’ll lock and you’ll be stuck out there until spring. I’ll get this set up,” she said with a jerk towards their cell.
Wyatt nodded his appreciation, unsure how to tell her how much it meant to him that she wasn’t guarding his every move, believing he was about to spring the Great Escape on her. Truthfully, even in the depths of his hatred at the system, he wouldn’t have tried to escape. He wanted to go back to his farm and pick up the pieces of his life. Living on the lam for the rest of it just didn’t appeal to him. He wasn’t going to leave the jail until the county let him go as a free man.
He opened the door to the courtyard, a gush of wind catching the door and yanking his body out into the cold. As Maggie passed him and began hunting through the snowdrifts, looking for just the right place to do her business, Wyatt held onto the door handle with all his might. He’d never been thrown around by wind like this before. He was 6’2” and a whole lot of work muscle. He didn’t get pushed around easily.
As he watched Maggie make her circles in the snow, he realized how mundane and boring his life had become before that night at Mr. Petrol’s. Plant, harvest, plant, harvest, watch TV or read a book…he’d retreated from the world after Shelly and Sierra had died. He needed to start doing things again; start helping out in the community. He’d heard about Adam Whitaker’s special needs camp that he was starting up, and after his help with Maggie, Wyatt wanted to do something to help him out in return.
Plus, he could reintegrate with the world in a small way. His counselor would be happy to hear him make these plans, that’s for sure.
Finally, Maggie Mae found the perfect snowdrift and crouched down. He swore he could hear a happy sigh escape from her as she looked towards him, her tongue lolling happily.
He grinned at her obvious joy at being able to relieve her bladder. Dogs were so simple, so straightforward. They loved you or hated you. There was never any question of what they were thinking, or why. Maybe that was why he’d always been more comfortable working with animals. Dogs, horses, even dumb-as-a-pile-of-rocks cows were all just…them. No artifice, no hiding and lying and distorting the truth. He could count on them to simply be them.
They’ve never let you down.
And wasn’t that just the root of it all.
His wandering thoughts were brought back to the present when he began shivering from the biting cold. Luckily, Maggie had stayed on his side of the courtyard; it wasn’t a large area, but he didn’t want to have to go searching for her through the blinding snow. It was stinging his eyes, cheeks, and ears, and he was sure his nose was going to turn into a frozen icicle at any moment.
C’mon girl, piss faster…
Finally, she straightened up and after doing a few passes with her nose to make sure everything came out all right, she trotted towards him, her tongue still happily lolling to the side. She didn’t seem the least bit thrown off by the massive amount of snow coming down.
She trotted in past him and shook her fur, spraying him and the walls, floor, and ceiling with wet dog hair and frozen snow pellets. “Maggiiieee,” Wyatt said with a half-laugh, half-sigh. He’d have to ask Abby for a towel to dry her off, and a mop to clean up the mess.
Maggie looked up at him, recognizing her name, and then when he didn’t tell her to go chase cows or round up the chickens, she nudged his hand, obviously reminding him that he hadn’t told her what to do.
“What you get to do,” he said, stroking her sopping wet head, “is come back to the jail cell with me and get warm. No chickens in here.” She licked his hand and then they took off down the cell block and back to his cell.
He couldn’t wait to get out of here. Just a couple more weeks and then…freedom. Or, at least probation. Which was a hell of a lot closer to freedom than he had right now.
Chapter 12
Abby
Just as Wyatt and Maggie came around the corner, looking like two lost souls coming in from a trip to Antarctica, the lights flickered for just a moment, and Abby held her breath. Maybe they’d stay…
Darkness.
“Really?” Wyatt’s voice held exasperation and a hint of laughter. “Declan, I guess we oughta just be happy that this is truly a Christmas we’ll never forget.”
“I can’t imagine we will,” Declan said dryly in the darkness. Maggie didn’t seem to think this was nearly as funny as the two Miller brothers did, and she began whining her uncertainty.
Abby fumbled with the flashlight always strapped to her service belt and then flicked it on. The beam shot through the darkness, hindering almost as much as it was helping. “Hold on, let me get back to the other flashlights,” she said, and ducked to grab the flashlights lined up underneath Wyatt’s bunk. She’d put them there after bringing supplies back to the cell, wanting an easy place to find them in case they were actually needed.
In a snowstorm like this, the county plows would have a hard time getting the roads cleared enough that the Idaho Power electricians would be able to fix the problem, wherever it was at in the valley, and that meant that they weren’t likely to get power back until morning, maybe longer. She grabbed a flashlight for each brother and tossed them over, carefully tossing Wyatt’s through the bars of the cell. With a flas
hlight in her master’s hand, Maggie’s whines died away and she followed him into the cell obediently.
“Do you have a towel for me to dry her?” Wyatt asked, nodding his head towards his mostly frozen dog. Abby pulled two from the stack and tossed them to him also.
“I figured you’d need one after you went outside. Got one for both of you.”
He caught them easily and his teeth flashed in the semi-darkness. “Thanks.”
His husky voice did something…unmentionable to her stomach and she worked hard to shove that feeling far, far away. She could not allow herself to feel anything for Wyatt Miller.
Not
Possible
“So what’s the plan?” Wyatt asked the group. “Are there special bunks for officers who have to stay at the jail overnight?”
She shook her head. “Normally, we have a checklist of items that we have to take care of, and we’re responsible for working our way down the list. After that, it’s a simple matter of keeping a chair from floating away, and staying awake. Someone has to be at the jail at all times if there’s a prisoner here, so it’s not even like I could go out on patrol, even if the roads were clear. At this point, I’d probably be reading and trying to keep my eyeballs propped open. Luckily, I don’t have to work many overnights.”
Her incredibly long day – her normal shift combined with this unexpected second shift – was starting to wreak havoc on her body. Whether or not she was actually supposed to sleep on the job was no longer up for debate. She would have to sleep tonight. It was simply a matter of deciding where she was going to sleep.
“I think you should sleep in here with us,” Declan said, voicing her thoughts out loud. “With the electricity off, I imagine the heat’s gone too, right?”
She nodded. “It’s a gas furnace, but it relies on electricity to keep the pilot light lit. The back-up generator is supposed to take care of all of that, but…” She shrugged.
“It doesn’t make much sense to have you out, wandering around in jail, possibly getting hurt in the dark, and we wouldn’t even know it,” Wyatt pointed out. “We should stick together. Just for tonight. Come morning, we’ll figure out what to do.”
She liked the word “we.” It implied her and Wyatt together.
She liked it a little too much. She needed to stop liking it, pronto.
Declan settled down into the second bunk in the cell, and Abby realized with a start how weird that felt to her. For six weeks now, the only bunk that had been used in the cell was Wyatt’s. The other one stayed untouched. They had six cells with two beds each, so when other people were housed in the jail, Wyatt hadn’t had to share. Luckily, the Long Valley County Jail wasn’t filled to capacity very often.
But now, just having the other bunk filled felt…off.
And it felt even more off when Wyatt insisted that she sleep in his bunk. “I can sleep on the floor. No woman is going to sleep on the floor while I sleep on a bed.” Abby felt like calling these bunks with their squeaky mattresses a “bed” was a real stretch of the imagination, but she finally acquiesced. Arguing and winning with a Miller brother was a feat not many people had managed, and she didn’t think it was likely she’d win tonight.
Wyatt settled down into a pile of blankets on the floor, Maggie next to him, and he and Declan began messing around, using the flashlights as spotlights, holding them up underneath their chins and telling ghost stories. Abby laughed at the obvious over-the-top plots and extreme “ghostly voices” that they were using.
Eventually, they began telling childhood stories, stories that Abby noticed didn’t include Stetson, at least not in any major way. She tried to remember how many years there were between Wyatt and Stetson. She knew Stetson had been a surprise to the Miller couple, and they’d struggled some with including him with the two older brothers. She wondered if that was at the root of the problems between Wyatt and Stetson, or if it was something else.
Speaking of problems…
Wyatt also stole Daddy’s farm out from underneath him just when he needed help, not a kick when he was down.
It was something she didn’t like to focus on much; she tried not to let the anger at what Wyatt had said around town afterwards get to her. It was easier for her to let it go than it was for her father, though. He would never forgive Wyatt – not for stealing his farm, nor for badmouthing him to anyone who would sit still.
Yet another reason to not let yourself fall in love, Abby.
She wasn’t sure if the stern warning was going to be heeded or not. Her mind knew what she should do but her heart was flat-out ignoring logic and reason.
She heard Declan’s deep breathing and realized he’d fallen asleep. She could hear Maggie’s snores ringing out, and wondered if Wyatt was asleep also. How long had she let her thoughts wander?
“Are you asleep?” Wyatt asked, his face popping up on the side of the bed, eyes just an inch from her own. She stifled back a scream at his sudden appearance, and then leaned forward and whacked him across the head.
“Yes, I’m fully awake now, thankyouverymuch,” she whispered scoldingly. He grinned at her – two smiles in one day! – and then disappeared out of sight again. Abby wriggled to the edge of the bed so she could see what he was doing, hating every squeak of the mattress as she moved. Damn, these things were obnoxious. Why did they curse their inmates with them? By the end of a month, she’d be stark-raving mad if she had to sleep on one every night.
She really should convince her dad to swap them out for something that wasn’t quite so obnoxious. Of course, that meant having to explain to her dad that she slept in Wyatt’s cell.
She’d rather keep that bit of information to herself.
For this one night, with the blanket of white wrapping around the jail, enclosing them in their own little cocoon, she could ignore the world. She could ignore the fact that she was the jailer, that Wyatt was the prisoner, that she shouldn’t be doing what she was doing, that she shouldn’t be feeling what she was feeling.
Just for one night. One little Christmas miracle, one little moment of letting go of doing what was strictly correct, and doing instead what felt right.
One night wouldn’t hurt her…right?
She peered over the edge of the mattress and saw Wyatt was rearranging his nest of bedding on the floor. “What are you doing?” she asked curiously.
“If I’m going to talk to you since Declan conked out on me and Maggie isn’t much for talking, I thought I’d move closer to you. Just so we can talk more quietly and not disturb Dec.”
Which is when she said something she never, ever thought she would.
“You should come up here.”
Oh my God, Abby, where did that come from?
The lighting in the jail was awful, with the flashlights standing on end, shining straight up at the ceiling, leaving everything else in semi-darkness.
But even in that dark, spooky lighting, she could see him freeze. The world stopped for a moment as he just stared at her. “Are you…are you sure?” he asked tentatively. He wasn’t moving an inch; she couldn’t even tell if he was breathing. He seemed to have been utterly frozen by the idea.
“It’s only going to get colder in here as the heat in the building dissipates,” she pointed out reasonably. “You’re lying on the cold cement floor. By morning, you could have frostbite.”
Except, what she wasn’t saying was, Wyatt and Declan should snuggle up in a bunk together, and she and Maggie Mae should snuggle up together. She could stand the dog’s awful breath for one night. Probably.
What she absolutely should not be doing is snuggling up with Wyatt Miller, the man with a chip on his shoulder the size of Texas. The man who’d beat a guy into a bloody pulp, requiring two rounds of reconstructive surgery to get his nose back into what might reasonably be called decent shape. The man who’d humiliated her father in front of everyone.
The man who made her heart go pitter-patter in her chest.
No, she should definitely not
snuggle up to him.
Ignoring the best advice she’d ever given herself, she pulled the edge of the blanket back and patted on the thin mattress. Even just this brief exposure to the rapidly cooling air made her shiver. “C’mon, before all the heat gets out,” she urged him. He flicked the two flashlights off, plunging the cell into total, disorienting darkness, and then shuffled his way to his bunk, climbing up beside her.
“You face that direction,” she said, pointing away from her, and then, realizing he couldn’t see her, added, “Away from me. I’ll snuggle up to your back so we can keep warm.” And your penis can be facing a different direction than towards me. Because she was sure that it would want more than what she or Wyatt would think was a good idea.
No matter how good it would feel.
Slowly, haltingly, they began chatting, and he ever-so-slowly relaxed back against her, her arm draped over his muscular chest. She found herself stroking his chest a few times and forced herself to stop each time. It was instinctual but she couldn’t let herself do it. It wasn’t appropriate, to say the least.
None of this was, but she was ignoring that fact for the moment, and clinging to the idea that she’d do this with anyone under the circumstances. Anyone at all.
She just happened to be a little more willing when it came to Wyatt Miller.
A little lot more willing, to be specific.
“After losing Sierra and Shelly to that asshole, I’ve felt a huge hole in my life,” Wyatt said quietly into the darkness. “I miss my wife; everyone who knew her, loved her. She was a wonderful companion and we got along well, for the most part. I think most people who’ve been married for a while will tell you that no spouse is perfect, and we certainly had our fights.
“But Sierra? Losing her was to lose a part of my soul. If I were to ever risk getting married again, risk falling in love with someone, it would be to have kids. I won’t have another Sierra, I know that. But I miss her so much. I miss pushing her on the swing set. I miss teaching her how to count and what her colors are and the difference between a circle and an oval. I miss teaching her how to read. My wife was a huge reader; we have books everywhere in our house, but when Sierra was born, we quickly went from reading the farm report and the latest New York Times bestsellers, to reading The Cat in the Hat. And I didn’t mind, not one bit. I would’ve done anything for my daughter. Anything at all.”
