Chapter 11
“You can come home whenever you want.”
Wyatt’s words popped in and out of my head as he got dunked for the umpteenth time in the last two hours. Man, did I want to go home. I wanted to be in my own bed, throwing up in my own toilet, surrounded by my things. Our things.
My morning sickness had been awful; if I went back home, he would know something was up. I’d been able to hide it from Meadow, but it hadn’t been easy. I slipped a bland cracker into my mouth and chewed slowly.
Chardonnay and Brady made their way through the crowd, holding hands and stopping to converse with people every few feet. Finally, they stood in front of me, and Brady immediately handed over a hundred-dollar bill.
“How many dunks does that get me?”
I took the hundred and placed it in the lockbox. Looking up, I handed him the ball and smiled. “Until your arm gets tired.”
“Fantastic.” He positioned himself on the taped line.
Wyatt, who had just climbed onto the platform, flashing his bare chest in my direction—again—spotted Brady and sighed. “Oh, come on.”
“Go get ‘em, Brady!” Chardonnay cheered. I didn’t know my sister knew how to cheer.
Brady wound up and released. Wyatt closed his mouth and held his breath. The ball hit a little to the left, and Wyatt let his breath out.
“Ha!” he exclaimed. “You been drinking your inventory again, Brady?”
Brady smirked. “I’m just warming up. You have a very drownable face today.”
“And you have the throwing arm of a dehydrated geezer,” Wyatt shot back, adjusting on the platform, water dripping from his hair into his eyes.
Brady rolled his shoulders and grabbed the next ball. “Keep talking. You’re giving me motivation.”
Wyatt spread his arms wide, the muscles in his chest tightening with the motion. “Motivate this.” He curved his arms into a flex, and I had to look away.
Brady wound his arm and released, hitting the target dead center. The platform dropped, and a high-pitched squeak came out of Wyatt as he plummeted into the cold water.
He surfaced, whipping his hair back, water flying everywhere. “You got lucky,” he said as he climbed onto the platform. Before he could even get settled, Brady threw again, hitting the target. Wyatt disappeared beneath the surface again, his surprised face blinking in the clear tank.
Chardonnay nearly snorted. “This is going to be the best hundred dollars we've ever spent.” She sat in the chair next to me and got comfy just as Brady dunked Wyatt again.
My stomach flipped, and I slipped another cracker out and placed it in my mouth, trying not to let Chardonnay see.
“Why aren’t you cheering Wyatt on?” she asked, turning toward me with the intensity of a lion about to attack its prey.
I shrugged and focused on chewing the cracker that tasted like dust. “He’s cocky and deserves a few good dunks.”
Her eyes narrowed, pinning me in place. “You usually encourage his cockiness.”
I grabbed another cracker and stuck it in my mouth even though I swore it was absorbing any moisture left on my tongue.
Another splash sounded, followed by Wyatt sputtering. “Brady, I swear if you kill me, I’m going to haunt your distillery.”
Chardonnay didn’t even crack a smile. “What happened?” she hissed.
I stiffened. “Nothing.”
“You forget… I know you.” She leaned in. “I’m your big sister. It’s my job, and you know I take my jobs very seriously. Something is going on, and if you don’t tell me, I’ll ask Odette, and we both know if I plant that seed, it’ll only grow.”
My throat tightened as I looked at Wyatt, who was flipping his hair off his forehead. “We don’t want the same things.”
Char took my hand, squeezing it. “Is that why you’ve been staying at Meadow’s?”
I turned to her, eyes wide, shock flooding through me. “You know.”
“Sweetie, the whole town knows. We all just know not to say anything.”
My lip quivered, the skin on the bridge of my nose pinched tight as I fought back tears. Here I thought we were fooling everyone, and the only one I was fooling was myself. I hadn’t been ready to accept it. Hadn’t been ready to talk about it.
“He doesn’t want to marry me,” I said as Brady hit dead center, and Wyatt plunged into the water.
“He never wanted to get married, even I know that. You never did either.”
“I know, but… I guess… I changed my mind.”
Char’s hand tightened on mine. “You’re allowed to change your mind. But he’s also allowed not to change his.”
“Which is why I broke up with him.”
Her hand tightened even more, and I absorbed the comfort, using it to try to combat the tears threatening to pour over in a flooded mess.
“I want more. I want to find the perfect dress with you, Mom, and Sherry. I want to stand up in front of our entire family and say I do.”
Char nodded, her expression softening. “You don’t have to explain that to me.”
“I still love him,” I whispered. “I love him so much it hurts.”
Her eyes moved toward Wyatt, who was throwing his arms up in victory after Brady missed his latest throw. “I know you do. And I know he loves you, too.”
A new splash echoed, followed by Wyatt’s dramatic gasp for air and a muttered curse. A crowd had formed, and cheers exploded. I couldn’t even look. It was too much. His laugh, his charm, his ridiculous antics… All of it used to feel like mine. Now it was just a reminder of all I had lost.
Chardonnay exhaled, her arm wrapping around my shoulder and squeezing me close, just like she did when we were kids and I had a nightmare.
“We like to believe love is enough, but if it’s a wedding you want, to be a wife and not a girlfriend, to make that promise to each other in front of your family and friends, then maybe it’s not.
But if there’s even a sliver of hope that this is just fear of missing out, then you owe it to yourself to find out.
Better safe than regretting this decision for the rest of your life. ”
“What if it’s not fear?”
“Then you’ll find your way through. You always do.” That was because I always had Wyatt at my side. Without him, I didn’t know what I was capable of.
Char squeezed my hand one last time before letting go and clapping for her man. “Go easy on him,” she said just as Wyatt disappeared beneath the water again. “I think he’s being punished enough.”
After an hour, Brady finally put the ball down and stepped away. The crowd had more than tripled in size, and the high-fives ensued as Brady walked toward Char and me. Wyatt climbed onto the platform and threw his arms up. “That’s all you got, old man? I thought we were just getting started.”
“We are,” Brady called over his shoulder. He reached into his pocket, retrieved his wallet, and slipped out another hundred. He handed it to me. “Free throws for everyone!” Brady announced, and a line formed.
“You play dirty, Noah,” Wyatt said, calling Brady by his last name. “Grasso, you going to allow this?” he asked, locking eyes with me for the first time since he climbed into that tank.
“It’s for the seniors!” I announced, and the crowd erupted in cheers. I met his gaze and shrugged, a slight smile tugging at my mouth.
He smiled back, his eyes closing and head dipping for a second before saluting me.
By the time the last person threw the ball, Wyatt probably held the record for most dunks in a single afternoon.
His hair was plastered to his forehead, and water dripped down his chest as he grabbed the towel I offered him.
I couldn’t help but notice his pruned fingertips.
He smiled as if he hadn’t been tortured for the last few hours.
The crowd thinned, the seniors exclaiming how the poor boy needed a hot toddy and a hug from his pretty girlfriend.
He dried his arms, then his legs, and when he straightened, I was still standing there.
“For the seniors,” he said as he placed the towel around his neck.
“For the seniors,” I reiterated, trying to ignore the single drop of water that was moving down his chest to his stomach to the hem of his bathing suit. My heart beat faster as that familiar grin graced his handsome face. “Guess I’ll go finish drying off and try not to drown in my own dignity.”
“You’re a good sport,” I said.
His gaze met mine. “I’d drown every day if it meant getting that smile out of you.”
“I want to come home.”
His eyes widened, and I quickly held my hand up.
“It doesn’t mean we’re back together. I just…
” I paused, searching for the right words that wouldn’t get his hopes up.
“I miss you. I miss us.” Okay, not exactly what I was going for, but I had no control over what was coming out of my mouth.
“And I don’t want to figure this thing out from opposite sides of town. ”
His grin faded into something softer, more serious. He stepped closer, reached up, then fell back to his side. “Come home, Rose. No pressure. No strings. Just… come home.”
Relief and longing tangled in my chest and clogged my throat. I nodded, biting my lip. “Okay.”