My Cone and Only

by Susannah Nix

  “He does.” I spoke so softly it was almost a whisper.

  Mia nodded, her lips curving in a brief smile before she grew serious again. “I can understand why you wouldn’t want someone you care about to be hurt. But from where I sit, it seems like this arrangement is hurting you. And if this other person really cares about you, he wouldn’t want you to be hurt any more than you want to see him hurt.”

  I chewed on my lower lip. “He might not know how unhappy I am about it.”

  “Because you haven’t told him?”

  “Maybe not in so many words.”

  Mia reached across the console to squeeze my arm. “One thing I’ve learned from being with your brother is how important compromise is. Sometimes you have to meet halfway, and sometimes you have to be willing to give things up for each other. That takes trust on both sides. You both have to make sacrifices so no one’s carrying more than their share of the burden.”

  Her words made sense, but they didn’t sit easy with me. “You’re saying right now I’m carrying more than my share of the burden?”

  She nodded. “In order to arrive at a compromise, you have to be honest with the other person about what you need.” She gave me another one of her pointed looks. “If you pretend to be strong and fine all the time, he won’t know how to help you. You have to ask for things when you need them.”

  My nose wrinkled at the suggestion. “I’m not good at asking for help.”

  Mia let out a light laugh. “I’ve noticed. Josh is still offended you didn’t tell him about your house problems, you know. He would have helped.”

  “I didn’t need his help.”

  “I know.” Her eyes met mine. “But you asked someone for help, didn’t you?”

  Wyatt didn’t text me until noon the next day. I was frankly surprised to hear from him that early after what I imagined had probably been an epic night of drinking and bro bonding.

  His first two texts confirmed my assumption.

  Wyatt: I barfed

  Wyatt: A lot

  I laughed at the screen, feeling sorry for him and also amused as I typed my reply.

  Andie: Are you feeling better now or are you texting from the toilet bowl?

  Wyatt: Better

  Wyatt: Mostly

  Andie: Have you eaten anything?

  Wyatt: I drank a Monster Energy

  Andie: I meant food

  Wyatt: No food at my place

  Andie: Do you need me to bring you food?

  Wyatt: No! Do NOT come over here

  Andie: That bad? Should I call a hazmat team?

  Wyatt: Maybe

  Wyatt: Can I come see you?

  I was dying to see him, but I didn’t want him taking any unnecessary risks.

  Andie: Can you drive?

  Wyatt: I’m fine

  Andie: Really?

  Wyatt: Give me 30 min

  My heart leaped at the prospect of seeing him again. Last night had been our first night apart since we’d started sleeping together, and I hadn’t liked it one bit. Funny how fast you could get used to having someone around.

  Andie: Do you want me to make you cheese grits?

  Wyatt: Yesssssssssss

  Wyatt: God

  Wyatt: Please

  Wyatt: I love you

  I blinked at the screen to make sure I’d read that last text right.

  But the words didn’t change. They were right there in front of me.

  Wyatt had typed the words I love you.

  And now they were permanently archived on my phone. Impossible to take back.

  But had he meant it? Like, meant it meant it? Or had he simply meant it in a jokey, friendly kind of way? Given that he was hungover and probably not thinking all that well this morning, the latter seemed likely.

  Although…maybe the fact that he wasn’t thinking well was what had caused him to let the truth slip out so offhandedly.

  Either way, I didn’t know what I was supposed to do about it. So I did nothing.

  Well, not nothing.

  I made cheese grits.

  They were nearly ready by the time I heard Wyatt’s truck pull into my garage. I was just turning off the heat when Wyatt let himself in the back door. I’d given him a key when he started doing the work on the house, and he still had it. He hadn’t offered to give it back to me, and I had no intention of asking for it.

  I heard his footsteps approach and smelled fresh soap and shampoo as he hugged me from behind.

  He nestled his face into my hair. “I missed you.” His voice was low and gravelly from all the singing he’d done last night, and it sounded like heaven to my ears.

  “I missed you too.” So much. My hands tangled with his as his mouth trailed down my neck, sending ripples of shivery warmth through my body.

  “You smell amazing.”

  I smiled. “Pretty sure that’s the grits you’re smelling.”

  “No.” He gave me a playful nip with his teeth before nuzzling the spot with his nose. “The grits smell good, but you smell amazing.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes.”

  He spun me in his arms, cradled my jaw in his hands, and kissed me like a starving man—with passion and a little desperation. I loved his mouth and the way he used it. Savoring me. Cherishing me. Worshiping me with his lips and tongue. Wyatt kissed like a man who loved kissing—not just as a means to an end, but as a pleasure in its own right.

  When his lips finally left mine, I smiled up at him breathlessly and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “Hey you.”

  He dipped his chin and leaned his forehead against mine. “Hey you.”

  His hand smoothed down my neck as we stood there together, silent and still. Taking comfort in each other’s company. Enjoying the quiet contact after last night’s separation.

  I only had so much stillness in me, however. The three-word phrase Wyatt had texted me was emblazoned in my mind, and I couldn’t stay silent for long.

  “Wyatt?”

  “Hmm?” He didn’t move except to squeeze the back of my neck.

  “The last text you sent me—do you remember what it said?”

  I held my breath as I waited for him to answer.

  “You mean the one that said ‘I love you’?”

  My heart skittered nervously in my chest. “That’s the one.”

  “You want to know if I meant it.” He spoke in a quiet, measured voice.

  We were too close for me to see his face, so I couldn’t read his expression. I had no insight into what he was thinking or feeling. “Did you?”

  Lifting his head from mine, he moved his mouth to my ear. “Yes.”

  The word shimmered through me with a shock of giddiness. I pulled back to look into his eyes, and what I saw in them reflected the truth of what he’d just said.

  His hands tightened on my hips, his thumbs slipping under the hem of my shirt to rub circles on my bare skin. “I love you,” he repeated.

  “Wyatt,” I breathed, the surge of happiness blossoming in my chest making it hard to speak.

  He brushed his lips against my forehead, then his mouth moved over my face, pressing tender kisses to my eyes, my cheeks, the corner of my mouth, my jaw.

  “I love you too,” I whispered.

  He went still at my words, frozen in the act of kissing my neck.

  I’d never said those words to a man before. Yet saying them now felt as easy as saying my own name.

  Wyatt lifted his head, and his wide, bright eyes ensnared me. A soft smile curved his lips, and I strained toward him, my hands gripping his arms as I captured his mouth with mine. Claiming him as my own.

  When we finally broke apart, I wrapped my arms around his neck, needing to keep him close. He bent his head to the side and his stubble scraped over my cheek, sending shivers down my spine as his hot breath caressed the skin beneath my ear.

  “Can I ask you something else?” I murmured.

  He looked at me, raising both his eyebrows. “Anyt
hing.”

  “Did you mean to say it?”

  His eyes danced in amusement. “Did I mean to tell you I love you for the first time over a text message when I was hungover? Hell no.”

  A laugh bubbled out of me, and he laughed along with me.

  “But I’m not sorry I did.” He cradled my hand in both of his and held my palm against his mouth. I felt his lips pull into a smile against my skin.

  “I’m not sorry you did either.” I slid my hand along his jaw, and he leaned into my touch like an attention-starved puppy. “You know, your grits are probably getting cold.”

  His head popped up, his eyes going wide. “Can’t have that. It’s a crime against grits.”

  I laughed and went to get two bowls.

  Wyatt and I spent the rest of Sunday holed up at my house together. But come Monday morning, I went back to work, and he headed home.

  The last few weeks had been pretty intense. He’d all but moved into my place while he was working on the house. It had made practical sense at the time, but it meant we’d basically gone from zero to sixty on the relationship highway.

  Now the work was done. He’d documented the repairs on the house and sent it all off to the HOA with time to spare before the deadline. We could close that chapter of our lives and settle into a more normal routine.

  Normal meant Wyatt coming over most evenings after we both got off work. He was busier than usual, because he had a backlog of repair jobs waiting on him that he’d had to put off while he was working on my house. Plus, he was spending a lot of time collaborating with Matt on the new songs and starting to rehearse some of them with the band.

  I wasn’t jealous of the time he spent away from me though. I loved seeing him energized by this new sense of purpose in his life. He seemed happier, and though I liked to think at least a little of it had to do with me, I knew I wasn’t the only reason for the fresh light in his eyes and the perpetual smile he wore on his face.

  Regardless, even when his evenings were taken over by work or extra rehearsals, he always came back to my house at the end of the night. If he was out late, he’d crawl into bed beside me after I’d fallen asleep and wake me with his lips and his loving caresses.

  It had been two weeks since Wyatt’s show at Zelda’s, and I hadn’t ever gotten around to taking Mia’s advice and telling Wyatt how much I disliked keeping our relationship a secret. It didn’t seem so pressing when we were alone together. Things between us were good. Perfect, even. I didn’t want to upset the balance we’d struck. Not when it still felt so new and precious.

  Yes, I wanted to tell the whole world that he was mine and I was his. But it could wait. For a little longer, at least.

  So what if Wyatt had to hide his truck in my garage every night? It was easy enough to do now that he’d fixed the door.

  So what if I never spent time at his apartment in case someone recognized my car parked out front? It wasn’t like either of us were eager to spend more time at his gross bachelor pad.

  So what if we couldn’t go out in public together? He was so busy he didn’t have free time for going out much anyway.

  It was fine.

  Except.

  Shiny Heathens had a show at the Rusty Spoke next Saturday, and I was dreading it. They were going to play a couple of Wyatt’s new songs during their set for the first time. I knew he was excited about it and wanted me there.

  But I wasn’t sure I could bring myself to go.

  Not unless he was willing to acknowledge our relationship publicly. No more hiding. No more lying. No more sneaking around.

  Which meant we needed to have a conversation.

  Soon.

  26

  Wyatt

  “Think anyone will notice I’m wearing your deodorant tonight?” I sniffed my pits as I strutted out of Andie’s bathroom, stark naked and freshly showered. I liked the smell of her deodorant on me. I liked that my wet hair smelled like her shampoo too. It was like carrying a little bit of her around with me.

  She was sitting on the edge of the bed, and the frown on her face stopped me in my tracks.

  “What’s wrong?” I dropped my arm to my side. “I’ll quit using your stuff if it bothers you.”

  She arched one eyebrow and patted the mattress next to her. “We need to talk about something.”

  Well, shit. I didn’t like the sound of that.

  “Is this the kind of conversation I should put my drawers on for?”

  The smile she offered me wasn’t encouraging. “Maybe.”

  I grabbed a pair of clean boxer briefs out of the laundry basket and dragged them up my legs. Pushing a hand through my damp hair, I sat down next to her.

  She turned to face me, pulling her leg up underneath her. I mirrored her position and reached for her hand. My thumb rubbed a circle in her palm as I waited for her to tell me what was up. Whatever it was that had her troubled, she didn’t seem in a hurry to spit it out.

  I squeezed her hand. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

  Her eyes were uncertain when they lifted to mine. “How much longer do we need to wait before we can finally tell people we’re together?”

  The question took me off guard. She hadn’t brought the subject up in a while. Based on our last conversation about it, I’d thought we’d agreed to wait. That she was okay with holding off for now. I didn’t have an answer ready to give her, and when I didn’t respond quick enough she followed up with another question.

  “Are you ever going to be ready to go public?”

  The resentment I heard in her tone blindsided me. I reached for her, needing to soothe her anger and lay her fears to rest. She let me pull her to my chest, and I folded her up in my arms.

  “Of course. I told you we would, didn’t I?” Guilt gnawed at me as I said it. Truthfully, I hadn’t given it any further thought since the last time she’d asked the question. I’d been too happy enjoying her company to dwell on a problem I still had no idea how to solve.

  “When?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How about tonight?”

  “Tonight?” The word choked out of me in an undignified-sounding yelp.

  She pushed out of my arms and studied me, her lips flattening in displeasure. “Why not tonight? Give me one good reason.”

  “I—” My brain flailed helplessly, and I snapped my mouth shut while I chose my words. “Because Josh’s feelings on the subject haven’t changed.”

  “They haven’t changed in ten years. They’re not going to change unless we do something to change them. If you’re waiting for him to magically wake up and sing a different tune, you’ll be waiting forever.” She paused, her expression narrowing with distrust. “But maybe that’s the point.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Maybe you’re just using Josh as an excuse to avoid commitment.”

  I reared back. “Hey. No. Of course I’m not doing that. You don’t really think that, do you?”

  “You’ve always been the guy who can’t be pinned down. Is it really so far-fetched?”

  “You’re damn right it is!” I was irritated, and my voice came out louder than I intended. But after everything we’d shared, it hurt to hear her flinging my past in my face. I clenched my teeth, because I didn’t want to yell at her. This time when I spoke, I tried to keep my voice reasonable. “That’s not who I am. Not with you.” My eyes pleaded with her to believe me. “I thought you knew that.”

  “I thought I did too. But I have to tell you, Wyatt, I’m starting to wonder if I’m being played.”

  My mouth went dry. “Andie.” I pushed a nervous hand through my hair. “Shit. No.”

  She turned her face away, and I saw a muscle tick in her jaw as she stared at a spot on the wall. “Are you sure this is really just about my brother? There’s not something else that’s holding you back?”

  “Like what?”

  She hesitated before answering. “Like you being afraid to let anyone love you too much.”

 
My mouth opened, but I couldn’t force any words out.

  When I didn’t answer, she turned to look at me. “Are you sure this whole secrecy thing isn’t just a way of keeping me at a distance so things can’t get too serious?”

  The doubt I saw in her eyes hurt my heart. It scared me enough to compel me into action.

  “That’s not true.” I reached for her hand. “This is serious to me. I’m a hundred percent in this.”

  “You’re not though. As long as we’re sneaking around and keeping it a secret, we’re no better than two kids playing house. It’s all just make-believe. This thing between us isn’t real as long as you don’t have to acknowledge it to anyone. You get to keep on acting like the same old carefree Wyatt and don’t have to admit that you’ve let yourself have actual feelings for someone. We might as well not exist.”

  My heart pounded a painful beat in my chest. I was sweating and my limbs shook with the fear of losing her. I had to make her believe me. I had to fix this.

  I tugged on her hand. “Andie, look at me.” When she didn’t move, I dropped to the floor and knelt in front of her, pushing between her knees so she couldn’t avoid me. “I love you and I want to be with you.”

  Her lip trembled a little, and it just about broke me. “Then be with me.”

  “I am.” My hands squeezed her thighs. “I’m right here.”

  “But you won’t be with me tonight. As soon as we get there, you’ll go off and do your thing, leaving me to sit on the sidelines and watch you pay attention to everyone else there but me. I hate it. I hate lying to our friends and our families. I hate having to pretend not to love you. I hate the way it feels when you pretend you don’t love me.”

  Her words made me sick with guilt. “I didn’t know it was that hard for you.”

  “It is. I don’t want to do it anymore. I want you to choose me, Wyatt, and I want everyone to know you did it. I want to be able to tell people you’re mine and I’m yours.”