Chapter 13
Three Months Later
The boxes stare at me, waiting for me to make a choice, but I'm frozen.
Eight weeks late.
What if I'm pregnant?
Dad will kill Wyatt and be so disappointed in me.
At least I'm eighteen and graduated last week.
Doesn't matter. Dad will still kill Wyatt.
I swallow the lump in my throat. I glance behind me to make sure I'm alone, then toss a box in the basket. I scurry down the aisle, turn the corner, and run into Chelsea Waverly.
"Ouch!" she blurts, her gaze going straight to the basket that I rammed right into her stomach.
"Crap, I'm sorry," I offer, moving the basket to the side to hide the test.
There's no point. Her face lights up in surprise, then twists into the same excitement she always gets whenever she finds out new gossip.
It's just my luck that after not seeing her for over a year, I'd have to run into her today.
She chirps, "Well, well, well! Who's the guy?"
"It's not for me," I lie, my face heating.
"Sure it isn't," she retorts.
"It isn't," I insist.
She puts her hand on her hip. "Then who's it for?"
"None of your business."
She grabs the test out of the basket and smirks. "This is a good one. Quick and easy. You'll know immediately if you're knocked up."
Mortified, I snatch it back and brush past her, repeating, "It's not for me." I hightail it to the counter, but she follows me.
"Then tell me who it's for," she pushes.
I spin around and point at her. "You're being nosy and rude."
She shrugs and leans closer, as if we're besties. "I thought you were a Goody Two-shoes, Willow Cartwright."
My heart pounds so hard, it hurts my rib cage. The last thing I need is for her to spread rumors all over town.
I glare at her. "Shut your mouth, Chelsea. You don't know what you're talking about, and I'm not divulging my friend's name to you."
She lowers her voice. "You can tell me. I won't say anything to anyone. Promise."
"Sure you won't," I spout, then brush past her to the self-checkout. I quickly scan the box and put it in the bag, then reach inside my purse for my wallet.
Chelsea steps next to me, asking, "Is it for one of your sisters?"
Anger fills me. I shove my card into the machine, grab the bag, and hiss, "Don't you dare talk about my sisters!"
She holds her hands in the air. "Sorry."
I warn, "Keep running that big mouth, and I'll start mistaking you for the flies I swat on my porch."
She gapes at me.
I shove past her and exit the store, going directly to my car and slamming the door. I start the engine and then pull out of the parking lot.
My pulse takes a while to return to normal. When it finally does, the previous worries come flooding back.
Wyatt and I are toast.
How will Wyatt even take this news?
He's been gone for the last two weeks. There was a huge rodeo in Wyoming.
Jagger went with him, so it's been hard for us to communicate except for the occasional text messages.
He should be home tonight, but I'm not sure if I should even tell him I might be pregnant.
He lost his ride, and Wyatt's normally in a better mood when he wins.
My stomach somersaults like a calf in a roping pen. I pull through our gates and park. I get out, and the sound of Jagger's diesel truck fills the air.
I turn, and my stomach sours even more. Jagger parks next to my car, and they get out.
"Willow. Anything exciting happening?" Wyatt asks, dragging his eyes over my body from under the shadow of his brim.
I might be having your baby.
All I want to do is dive into his arms and forget all our problems, but I can't. I reply, "Not much."
Another truck comes barreling through the gates. Dust floats in its wake, and Jax's face comes into view. He slams on the brakes and stops next to Jagger's vehicle.
"Great," Wyatt mutters.
"Long time no see," Jagger arrogantly offers.
"Don't you give me your shit," Jax orders.
I glance at Wyatt, quietly asking, "What's going on?"
It's not the first time Jax has been upset with Wyatt or my brother. They always seem to get into some trouble when they're at the rodeos, whether Wyatt wins or loses. Dad suggested Jagger stay home, but he couldn't stop him from going.
Jax flies across the dirt and comes to a stop in front of Wyatt, accusing, "Are you stupid?"
A hint of guilt crosses Wyatt's expression, but he puffs his chest and stands taller. "Meaning?"
"Don't you sass me," Jax snarls.
"What's all the commotion about?" Dad booms.
Wyatt clenches his jaw.
What did they do this time?
I glance at my brother, but his expression is neutral, and he has the same stance as Wyatt.
Jax turns to Dad. "These two prize idiots couldn't handle losing again."
Dad scowls at my brother. "I told you no more fights."
Jagger shrugs. "Assholes had it coming to them."
Rage turns Dad's face red. He pins a glare on Wyatt. "I thought I taught you to value your career."
"I do, sir," Wyatt insists.
Dad shakes his head, searing Wyatt with disappointment.
Jax growls, "Your agent pulled your contract."
"What? He can't do that!" Wyatt states.
I feel nauseous, and I put my hand over my stomach.
Jax scoffs. "Of course he can. I told you when you signed with him that he doesn't represent riders who don't take their careers seriously."
"I do take it seriously," Wyatt claims.
Jax jabs him in the chest. "How many times have I told you not to get into trouble?"
Wyatt stays quiet, grinding his molars.
Dad turns his scolding to Jagger. "I told you not to go with him. You two can't stay out of trouble. Now look what you've done."
"It's not his fault," Wyatt interjects.
"Oh, don't think I don't know you're just as much at fault," Dad seethes.
Wyatt takes a deep breath.
Dad adds, "You're acting like your father. I thought you wanted to be a better man than him."
My defensive instincts toward Wyatt kick in, and I blurt out, "That's not fair. He's not his father."
Dad whips his head toward me. "This isn't your business. Go inside, Willow."
I don't move.
"Now," he demands in a low tone.
I toss Wyatt a glance, but he's exchanging a look with my brother.
Damn you, Jagger.
"Way to go," I mutter, passing him and stomping into the house. I go into the family room and stare out the window.
"What's going on?" Paisley questions.
"Nothing," I answer.
"Don't treat me like a baby. You, of all people, don't get to do that," she whines.
I sigh. She's right. Being the youngest of the eight siblings means Paisley gets shafted a lot, left out of the loop much of the time.
I'm only a few years older, and I know what that feels like, so I reply, "I'm sorry.
Jagger and Wyatt got into another fight.
Jax said Wyatt's agent canceled his contract. "
Paisley's mouth drops toward the floor.
I refocus on the scene outside.
"Can his agent do that?" Paisley asks.
"Jax says he can."
The air conditioner is on, so the windows are shut. I can't hear anything, but Jax says something and looks even angrier than he did before.
Wyatt responds, and it only upsets him further.
The conversation goes on for a long time. Then Jagger comes inside alone.
Paisley and I run to the door. She asks, "Is Wyatt's career over?"
"Mind your own business," Jagger grumbles, and pushes the kitchen door open.
I follow him. "What did you do?"
He opens the fridge and grabs a gallon of milk. "Once again, not your business," he states, removing the cap. He drinks half the bottle.
"Use a glass, that's gross," Paisley gripes.
He gives her an arrogant look and takes another drink.
"Eww." She huffs in disgust.
"What happened?" I push.
"Stay out of it. Both of you," he warns, then brushes past us and into the hallway.
"Jerk," I call out.
"Yep. Sue me," he responds, climbing the stairs.
I return to the window, and my mouth turns dry. Jax says something else to Wyatt, gets into his truck, and then takes off.
Dad continues to lecture Wyatt.
It feels like forever until they part ways. Dad comes into the house, and Wyatt stomps off, disappearing behind the barn.
Paisley asks, "Is Wyatt's career over?"
"That's his choice," Dad says, then asks, "Where's your brother?"
"Upstairs," I reply.
"Jagger! Get your ass down here," Dad shouts. Then he lowers his voice. "You two give us some privacy."
Paisley rolls her eyes, then goes into the kitchen. I slip out the front door and head toward the barn just in time to see Wyatt on his horse, trotting across the field toward the woods.
I go into the barn, saddle my stallion, Sassy, and run him until I catch up with Wyatt. I yell, "Hey! Wyatt!"
He turns his head and slows.
I pull up next to him.
He drawls, "Hey, sugar."
"Where's my kiss?" I tease.
He barely smiles but leans over and gives me a quick one. "You doing okay?"
I nod. "Yes. What about you?"
He clenches his jaw, keeping his gaze on mine. "I messed up."
I deeply inhale. "I kind of caught that. But you'll be okay, right? You always are."
He swallows hard.
My anxiety hits a high. "Wyatt?"
"Let's go to the lake, sugar. We'll talk there," he says.
The worst feeling I've ever had comes over me. Silently, I nod.
Wyatt makes a loud clicking noise, and the horses move forward.
We don't speak as we ride through the thick trees. The sun peeks through in several spots and then shines brightly when we exit the foliage and approach the lake.
We dismount from our horses, and Wyatt ties them to a nearby tree. Then he grabs my hand, kisses it, and steers me toward the log on the shore.
We sit, and my stomach churns as I ask, "What's going on?"
He takes a moment to gather his thoughts, digging his toe into the sand.
"Wyatt?"
He finally meets my gaze. "I really messed up this time."
I just stare at him.
He adds, "I'm sorry."
I put my hands on his face. "It's okay. We'll find you another agent."
He closes his eyes for a moment, then releases a long breath. "It's not that easy, Willow."
"Then explain it."