ππππ
My heart sank as I replayed the conversation in my head, realizing how much worse it made everything, knowing their history. I never meant to hurt Wyatt, but now it felt like I had.
Clocking out, I tried calling Wyatt again, hoping he'd pick up this time.
The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer.
"Damn it," I muttered under my breath, slipping the phone back into my pocket.
I stood there for a moment, thinking about what to do.
I needed to see him. I needed to talk to him now. There was no way I could let this wait.
As I pushed open the door and stepped outside, I heard someone shouting my name. Turning around, I saw Beau, Wyatt's dad, running toward me. My stomach churned, and I rolled my eyes, whispering, "Shit." I didn't want to deal with this right now. Not with everything else on my mind.
Beau came to a stop in front of me, catching his breath. "Hey," he said, his voice low and thick with that Southern accent Wyatt inherited.
"Look... I have to go," I said, my tone sharp, trying to sidestep him.
"Milia, please, just listen for a second," he pleaded.
I didn't want to listen, but I also didn't want to be rude, no matter how much I wanted to walk away. "What?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.
"Based on how quick your tone changed when you talked to me earlier, I'm guessing Wyatt told you what happened," Beau said, his gaze steady.
I nodded. "I mean, he's my boyfriend, so yeah, of course I know what happened."
A slow, sad smile tugged at Beau's lips. "Oh... you're dating Buckie?" He chuckled softly to himself.
"Sure am, and thankfully, he's nothing like you," I shot back, the words coming out harsher than I intended.
Beau sighed,"Look, you can judge me all you want, but I'm not the same guy I once was."
I laughed bitterly. "Really? You think a few years in jail and rehab make you a better person?" I shook my head. "Listen, I don't care what you have to say, honestly. It's not my place to judge you, but I also don't have to like you. Especially because Wyatt hates you."
Beau's shoulders sagged as he shook his head, staring at the ground. "Can you just please tell him how sorry I am?" His voice cracked, and I could see the desperation in his eyes.
I stood there, stunned, unable to believe he was asking me to pass along his apology. "He doesn't have to speak to me ever again," Beau continued, "but I hope he finds it in his heart to forgive me someday."
"Right," I said, my voice flat. Without another word, I turned and walked out the door, leaving Beau standing there alone.
??Β°
I pulled up to Wyatt's house, my heart pounding. As I stepped out of the car, I saw Daisy, Wyatt's horse, standing near the house. A small smile tugged at my lips despite everything. "Hi, Daisy," I murmured, walking over to pet her for a moment before I turned and made my way to Wyatt's door.
Knocking gently, the door swung open, not even locked.
A chill ran down my spine as I stepped inside.
The sight before me was shockingβglass shattered on the floor, cotton ripped from the pillows, the whole place in chaos.
"What the fuck?" I whispered, my eyes wide as I carefully stepped over the debris.
I walked further into the house, my heart racing with concern. In the kitchen, I saw him, Wyatt, standing with his back turned, head hanging low. "Wyatt?" I called softly, hoping not to startle him.
His head popped up, but he didn't turn to face me. "What are you doing here, Milia?" His voice was low, but clear.
"I-I just got off and wanted to check in on you," I stammered, unsure of how to talk to him.
Wyatt laughed bitterly. "Had a good conversation with your patient?"
His words hit me like a punch. He was madβno, pissedβthat I'd spoken to his father. "Wyatt, I didn't know he was your dad," I said, trying to explain.
"Really?" He finally turned, his eyes full of anger. "I could've sworn as nurses, you're supposed to have the name of your patients on file."
Crossing my arms, I stood my ground. "Yeah, you're right, but he wasn't my patient. I was making my rounds, checking in on our patients to make sure they were okay. That's part of my job."
Wyatt shook his head, still avoiding my gaze, staring at the cabinet. "Wyatt, I think you should talk to him," I said lowly.
He laughed again, this time turning to face me fully. "What the fuck did you just say?"
Closing my eyes, I tried to steady my nerves and explain. "I don't mean sit down and talk like nothing's wrong. I mean you shouldβ"
"It doesn't matter what the fuck you meant by it, Milia!" Wyatt exploded, cutting me off. "You're still telling me to talk to the man who murdered my mother."
The raw pain in his voice made my breath hitch. I took a deep breath, knowing I had to tread carefully. "Wyatt, it's obvious the situation still haunts you, and you'll never truly move on if you keep this hatred in your heart."
"But that's the thing, Milia!" Wyatt shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. "I do fucking hate him! I hate him so fucking much for what he did."
"Wyatt, it's not good to carry so much hate," I said, my tone softer, trying to reach him. "I can't stand Malakai for what he did to me, but I don't hate him. I just wish to never see or speak to him again."
"Yeah, well, at least you got the option to do that. My mother didn't." Wyatt's words hit me hard, and my heart stopped for a moment.
"Wow... thank you, Wyatt, for trying to downplay my situation," I said, my voice hollow with hurt.
"Milia, I think you should just go," Wyatt said coldly, his fists clenching at his sides.
"Wyatt, come on, I didn't mean to offend you," I pleaded, stepping closer.
"It's a bit too late for that, don't ya think?"
I reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Wyatt, just talk tβ"
Before I could finish, he shoved me back, with full force. My back hit the kitchen table, sending decorative plates and bowls crashing to the floor. The shock of it left me breathless, my breathing quickening as I tried to process what just happened.
Wyatt's expression changed instantly, regret washing over his face. He stepped closer, reaching for me. "Milia, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to."
I flinched, stepping back out of his reach. "Don't text or call me tonight. I'll talk to you when you're calm." My voice was steady, but inside, I was trembling.
Before he could respond, I turned and rushed out of the house, my heart heavy and my mind racing.