Chapter 22
Wyatt
Willow's body, warm and pressed up against me, pulls at my heartstrings.
I hadn't forgotten how soft she was, but reality is way better than my imagination.
Her hair's sprawled over my chest, and my thigh is wedged between hers.
Our bare skin's a mess of heat under the cheap motel sheets, and her steady breathing kept my wild nerves calm all night.
I never want to move. I stare at my beautiful woman, continuing to spoon her, loving how perfectly her body still fits with mine. And I wonder how we could ever part again.
A soft moan escapes her lips. She shifts her hips, slow and sleepy, into my semi.
It's all it takes. My cock hardens, and I yank her ass closer to me, slipping into her wet heat.
Her eyes fly open, and her mouth forms an O as her whimper collides with my groan.
I grip her hip, kissing her neck and thrusting at a snail's pace.
"Wyatt," she breathes.
"Morning, sugar," I say hoarsely.
A low, needy moan rattles in her chest. She pushes her ass into my thrust, trying to get me deeper.
"That's it. Ride me like I'm the bull you need to tame."
She curls her legs, taking more of my cock inside her, continuing to moan.
"Jesus," I mumble, licking her earlobe as I clench my arm around her and circle my fingers on her clit. I bury my erection inside her, only moving a few inches back before I fully thrust into her again.
"Oh," she whimpers, digging her nails into my forearm and thigh.
My lips trail behind her ear. I confess, "I missed you."
She pushes against me the moment I pull back. She whimpers my name, the sound raspy and thick with sleep.
"That's it, sugar," I praise, adrenaline building so fast in me, I have to grit my teeth to stop from coming too soon.
She rolls her hips in a circle while I thrust. A faint quiver racks her. She clenches around my cock like she wants to break it.
"You feel so damn good," I whisper, dragging my mouth over the top of her spine and forcing myself not to rush.
She arches and gasps, "Oh God."
I groan into her shoulder. "I've been dreaming about this. About you."
She moans, and I add more force. Her nails scrape my skin.
I lose control. It's worse than coming too soon. I admit into her ear, "I'm so in love with you. More than I ever was before, and I didn't think that was possible."
Just like that, the high crashes. Her entire body tenses up.
My gut sinks. I thrust a few times to get us back to where we were, but it's pointless.
She shifts forward, pulls off of me, and sits up. She drags the sheet with her like it's armor.
My hand hovers behind her, frozen. "Willow?"
She doesn't turn around. "Don't say stuff like that."
I sit up. "Why not? It's the truth."
She wraps the sheet tighter around herself and then turns toward me, glaring. "Because you always ruin it, Wyatt."
My chest caves in. "I—"
"All my Christmases have been ruined since you took off. Did you know that? You left, and every year, I fake smiles for my family, because none of it's been the same without you," she hurls.
I shift closer. "Mine were horrible too. But I didn't know you still loved me. I thought you never would again. But now I know you still do. And I'm going to make it up to you."
Her laugh is hollow. "You can't make up for seven years of heartache. You walked away like I didn't matter."
I reach for her. "It wasn't like that, and you know it."
"No? Sure as hell felt like that," she fumes.
Anger hits me, taking me by surprise. I assert, "You need to take a bit of the blame here."
She jerks her head backward. "I have to take the blame?"
I nod. "Yeah. I called you. You never took my calls."
She shouts, "You were drunk!"
"You never answered. You avoided me any chance you got," I say in the calmest tone I can.
"You broke me!" she states.
"You don't think I was broken?" I ask.
Tense silence fills the air.
Her lips tremble.
I take a breath and admit, "You weren't the only one who struggled, sugar. And I'll take responsibility for my role in this, but you aren't innocent."
Her eyes fill with tears. She looks away and wipes her face.
I scoot closer and wrap my arm around her. I insist, "It doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is we still love each other. And this time, I won't fuck it up, and that means you won't have a chance to either."
She shakes her head, then turns back to me, eyes glassy. "I can't go down this road again. I can't sneak around and lie to my family only to get torn apart the second you get scared or your career takes off and you bolt."
I clench my jaw. "I didn't leave because we had a pregnancy scare. I left because I didn't know how to stay."
She laughs while crying. "You didn't know how to stay? I thought I was having your baby, and you didn't even ask me if I was okay."
My chest tightens. I take eight breaths, then confess, "I won't lie. I didn't know how I would ever be a good dad, but that isn't why I left. I needed to make something of myself before I could be the man you deserved. And you ended up not being pregnant."
"So that made it right to just bolt before I woke up the next morning?” she accuses.
My voice breaks. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been stubborn and left without making things right with you."
She wipes her cheek. "Which is why you'll do it again when push comes to shove."
"No, I won't." I move to sit closer to her. "Tell me you don't still love me."
She stares ahead, staying silent.
"Stop fighting us." I press a kiss to her shoulder, then her neck. I reach for her chin to turn her toward me.
She twists away, climbing off the bed and grabbing her clothes. "I'm sorry, Wyatt. But I can't do this again."
"Willow—"
"No more motel rooms. No more secrets. No more pretending we're the same people we used to be and that our love survived the explosion." She pulls her jeans on.
I get out of bed, emotions raw and on full display when I say, "We're not pretending. This is real. And our love did survive."
She throws her shirt over her head, then tightens her wrap. She brushes tears from her cheeks. "I have to go."
I step in front of her, blocking the door. "Take a breather, Willow."
"I'm not doing this again, Wyatt. I'm an all-or-nothing woman, and you already showed you can't handle that," she declares.
"I'm all-in. I always have been," I insist.
She scoffs. "We hid from my family for three years. You call that all-in?"
Shame fills me as I stare at her.
Her chest rises and falls as heavy as a marathon runner's.
She seethes in a trembling voice, "You think I didn't want to scream our relationship from the rooftops?
That I was yours? I had to lie to everyone I loved and pretend you were just my brother's best friend.
I had to act like I hadn't already given you everything. "
I swallow hard around the lump in my throat as guilt strangles my lungs. "I'll admit I was afraid of ruining my friendship with Jagger. But what stopped me was losing your dad's respect. I wasn't enough. Not yet. But I did want to become a man good enough for you."
She shouts, raw and painful, "You were enough! But you didn't think I was enough for you. That's the real truth."
"Not true."
"Then why didn't you stay and fight for us?"
I cautiously step closer to her. "The past is the past, Willow. I can't undo my mistakes. But I'm fighting for you now."
She shakes her head, eyes filled with glassy betrayal. "It's too late."
I reach for her, but she sidesteps me, grabs the keys, and yanks open the door. The morning's chill blasts past the door, biting my skin.
She pauses on the threshold. "You can't love me the way I need you to. And I can't keep letting you halfway in."
"Willow—"
"I'll be in the truck." She steps outside and slams the door.
For a moment, I stand still, naked and stunned, the scent of her still clinging to my skin. The echo of her heartbreak pounds louder than my own, and I don't know how to fix this.
The sound of my truck's engine pulls me out of my trance.
I dress quickly. My jeans feel like sandpaper, my boots too stiff. Nothing fits right, whether it's my clothes or my damn life.
When I get to the truck, she's already in the passenger seat, arms crossed and eyes aimed straight ahead.
The whole ride back is cold and silent. The snow has stopped falling, but the roads are super icy. I barely look at her, but I don't need to. I feel her and our regret the entire time.
We pull through the gates at the Cartwright Ranch. The holiday lights twinkle across the front porch, their brightness muted by the ice.
I turn off the engine. "Willow—"
"Don't start," she warns as she gets out of the truck.
I follow her into the cold, up the porch, and inside.
The aroma of bacon and cinnamon floats around the house. The same happy chaos that's always present in the Cartwright residence hits my ears.
She trudges into the family room, and everyone's there. Jacob and Ruby, Jagger, Ava, and the rest of the crew.
"We're home," Willow announces in a flat tone.
Ruby looks up from the table where she's working on a puzzle with the grandkids, and smiles. "How was Dallas?" she asks.
Willow stiffens, and woodenly answers, "Fine."
"How was the meeting?" Jacob asks.
Willow glances at me with guilt, then shrugs. "We'll know more in a few weeks."
"They made you ruin your New Year's Eve and can't even tell you if they want you or not?" Jagger spouts.
Willow's face flushes pink. "That's how it works, Jagger."
"Really?" He cocks his eyebrows.
Fuck this.
No more hiding.
She turns to leave, but I reach out and grab her arm, spinning her toward me. I confess, "We didn't go to Dallas."
Her eyes widen. "Wyatt! Don't."
"It's about time you all know the truth," I continue, not tearing my eyes off hers.
No one speaks. My pulse rattles between my ears.
Panic fills Willow's expression.