Chapter 23
Willow
What just happened?
Damn, Wyatt.
My pulse still thunders in my ears, drowning out everything but his deep voice repeating that he loves me.
He told everyone.
My family stands frozen in the living room. The Christmas tree glows softly, but all the warmth has been sucked out of the air.
Mom's hand rests on Dad's arm, her gaze locked on me. My siblings stare at me in shock.
Hurry up and process it.
I can't believe he told them.
Phoebe's gaze is the one I try to avoid. I lied to her. I shouldn't have, so the guilt swelling in my throat is ten times worse when it comes to her.
The sound of the screen door shutting hits my ears, and a wave of panic assaults me.
He can't leave.
I tell myself it's so he has to face the music at my side, but I'm lying to myself again.
"Wyatt isn't leaving the ranch," I blurt out, stepping toward the door.
"Like hell, he isn't," Dad booms.
"Jacob," Mom warns.
I turn my head, declaring, "He can stay in one of the guesthouses."
"No," Dad states.
"Yes. He can," Mom says with authority.
He looks at her in surprise. She rarely goes against him.
Regardless, I don't have time to waste. I run out the door, crying out, "Wyatt!"
He turns, his truck door already open.
I leap off the last step and go skidding on the ice, landing hard on my butt. I wince. "Ouch!"
Wyatt slams his door shut and rushes toward me. "Willow! Are you okay?" he asks as he reaches for me.
I allow him to help me, grabbing his hand.
He yanks me up and tugs me into him. Worry fills his swollen face. "Are you hurt?"
I tilt my head. "Emotionally or physically?"
His lips twitch. "Let's start with physically."
"My butt will live," I declare.
He rests his hand over a cheek, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. "That's good news."
My smile doesn't last long, replaced with a grimace. "You might need to stick your face in the snow."
He grunts. "I'll be fine."
"That was a suicide mission in there. Why did you do that?" I ask.
He doesn't flinch. "Tell the only people I've ever cared about I'm madly in love with you and aren't going to ever fall out of it?"
Excitement competes with irritation for the most dominant emotion. "Wyatt—"
"Don't lecture me, Willow. It was time to come clean. I meant everything I said, and nothing is going to stop me from winning you back. So maybe you can stop trying so hard to push me away?"
My insides quiver. I swallow hard, with the recurring debate restarting in my head.
"I love you. Now, tell me why you came out here," he orders.
My anxiety grows. I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The wind kicks up, and I shiver.
He pushes a lock of hair behind my ear and pulls me closer. "You're going to freeze out here."
"Don't stay at Jax's. Stay in one of the guesthouses," I say.
I can tell my suggestion shocks him, but his lips curl. "I'd love to stay, sugar, but I don't think that's a good idea right now."
"It is," I claim.
"Your father thinks otherwise, and I'm pretty sure your brothers do too," he reminds me.
"I'll take care of them," I assure him.
He studies me in silence for a moment.
"Why aren't you saying anything?" I question.
His gaze drifts to my lips, then back to my eyes. He demands, "Tell me you still love me, and that's why you want me to stay."
I take several deep breaths.
"I'm going to stay at Jax's," he states.
I swallow hard, every nerve frayed. "You're my rider. I need you to have a roof over your head. So stay in the Butterfly House."
His timbre soft and dangerous, he asks, "Is it only because I'm your rider?"
My need to be honest barrels past my caution. "I don't know what this is, Wyatt. But I know I want you to stay so we can talk…when I can think straight."
He shakes his head slowly. "Your dad doesn't want me here. We can talk somewhere else."
"I'll handle my dad. Stay. I'm going to get your things." I attempt to step back, but he holds me firmly to him.
He looks at me intently. "I love you, Willow. And I don't have any doubts about what this is between us. I don't think you do either."
"I…" I blow out a breath of air.
"Why do you really want me to stay?" he pushes.
My heart slams against my rib cage.
He tries to arch his eyebrows at me, but his face is too swollen. "Give me something, sugar. I just need something, and I'll fight to stay on this ranch and deal with your family, who now hates me."
"They don't hate you," I claim.
He takes several breaths, slowly exhaling. He slides his hand on my cheek. "I'm waiting."
My demons fight my heart, trying to get me to lie to him, but my heart wins. "I still love you," I tell him quietly.
Time stands still. Wyatt says nothing, just stares at me.
"I'm going to get—"
He cuts me off when his mouth lands on mine. His arms tug me closer, so no space exists between us, and he kisses me until I lose my breath.
He pulls away, grinning. "Okay. I'll stay."
I softly laugh, then push his chest, warning, "Don't think this means things are back to the way they were."
"No, ma'am," he says, his expression turning serious.
Giddiness fills me. "Okay. I'm going to get your things."
His brows lift. "What guesthouse do you want me in? Butterfly or Stallion?"
I shrug. "Which one do you want?"
"Butterfly's closer to the main house," he muses.
I can't help but smile. "Don't get me into more trouble, Wyatt."
"I'm just saying," he taunts with a wink.
I laugh, shaking my head. "Don't go anywhere."
"I'm not, sugar."
I return to the house and attempt to head to the stairs, but I can't get past the living room.
My father demands, "What do you think you're doing?"
I apprehensively step into the room.
The air is thick with Cartwright rage. My father's eyes lock on mine, hard as iron.
I rarely defy my father. But I lift my chin and announce, "To get Wyatt's bag. He's staying in the Butterfly House."
His face reddens. "The hell he is."
"Don't make a mountain out of a mole hill," I argue.
"He's got a lot of nerve staying on my land," Dad states.
Mom snaps, "Jacob! This is our home. Our ranch. Wyatt is family. You aren't kicking him off the property!"
Mason chimes in with, "He's got a funny way of treating a family member."
"Shut up, Mason!" I bellow.
"Kind of incestuous if you ask me," he adds.
"You're disgusting and super immature," Phoebe interjects.
"Agreed," Georgia adds under her breath, glaring daggers at him.
"Keep out of this," Mom warns my brother.
Dad scowls at her. "That boy lied to us for years, going behind our backs."
"So did our daughter. He didn't do it alone," she reminds him.
Guilt assails me. But there's nothing I can do about the past. I blurt out, "We aren't kids anymore."
Dad turns his disapproval on me. "This is my roof you live under."
"Then I'm leaving with Wyatt," I proclaim before I can even think about it.
Dad's eyes widen.
I remind him, "I only moved back home because my apartment got infested with roaches and I didn't have time to find a new one since I've been traveling so much. But it seems like I should have left sooner because you must have forgotten I'm an adult now."
Dad's face flushes red and hardens.
Mom steps between us. "No one is going anywhere. Wyatt can stay in the Butterfly House. Willow, you're not moving out right now. End of conversation." She pins a look on Dad.
He looks like he wants to argue but doesn't.
"Thanks, Mom." I rush out of the room, up the stairs, and into Wyatt's room. I shove his clothes into his bag, grab his toiletries, and run down the stairs.
Dad stands near the landing with his arms crossed.
"I'm sorry we lied, but you're going to have to get over it," I state.
"Watch your mouth, young lady," Dad warns.
I sigh. "Dad, I'm sorry. I hope you forgive us soon." I kiss him on the cheek and bolt out the front door.
Wyatt's standing in the cold next to the passenger door.
"Why aren't you in the cab? It's cold out here," I remind him.
He grabs the bag from me and slings it over his shoulder. Then he opens the door. "I'm fine. Get in."
I don't argue, hopping into the truck. He shuts the door, tosses his bag in the back, and gets into the driver's seat. He starts the engine and then turns toward me, asking, "How bad was it?"
I cringe and hold my fingers an inch apart. "Only a bit."
"I'm sorry."
"A little warning would have been nice," I say.
He chuckles. "No way you'd have let me tell them."
I stare at him, fighting myself. I've always wanted to be with him, no matter how much I told myself I was over him. Now that our secret is out, maybe we have a real shot.
But what if we don't?
His face falls. "Stop worrying, sugar. Things will only move forward with us this time."
I offer a tiny smile.
He slides his hand in my hair and leans closer. "Trust me."
I quietly reply, "Okay."
He matches my soft grin and pecks me on the lips. He releases me and asks, "Are you sure your dad isn't going to shoot me in the night if I stay on the ranch?"
I shake my head, wincing. "Nope."
He chuckles and pulls forward, passing the barn and turning down the snow-covered dirt trail.
I add, "Don't worry. My mom put her foot down."
"Oh?" He glances over, arching his eyebrows.
"Yep. You know how she's always had a soft spot for you."
"She stood up to Jacob? For me?"
"Yep."
"Well I'll be," he says, taking another turn.
The small, pale-blue guest cottage appears, nestled among ice-covered trees. Snow blankets the roof several inches thick. Holiday lights match the ones draped across the ranch. The wooden sign with "Butterfly House" carved on it is unreadable due to the snow.
Wyatt pulls near the porch and parks the truck. He turns off the engine. "I'm glad you're coming in with me."
"I am?"
"Why else did you hop in the truck?"
"You told me to."
"Since when do you do anything you don't want to?" he questions, a wicked grin on his face.
I nervously laugh.
He picks up my hand and kisses it. Then he gets out of the truck, tosses his bag over his shoulder, and comes around to my side to open my door.