Chapter 14
Terror and Other Things Caused by Five-Year-Olds
GWEN
Ipull into Wyatt’s driveway with my heart pounding so loud it feels like it’s trying to punch its way out of my chest. I’m nervous—nervous in a way I haven’t been since taking my nursing boards.
My entire future—the life I dreamed—hung on whether I passed those boards.
In a way, the life I want now hangs on this too.
Which would explain why my palms are damp on the steering wheel, and why I’m as anxious as a cat on a hot tin roof.
Then, I see his house. I’ve never been here, but it looks exactly like he described.
I’d know it even if my GPS hadn’t just announced I’d reached my destination.
The place is perfect. Not flashy, not new, and not trying too hard.
Just an older home sitting pretty on a double lot like it was designed to be here.
Big magnolia trees stand guard around the property, their branches stretching wide as if they’ve been keeping secrets for decades. Privacy, shade, charm—it has all of it.
A paved drive curves toward a detached garage, and a breezeway—closed in with floor-to-ceiling windows—connects the garage to the house.
Light glints off the glass, making it look warm and lived in instead of dated.
There’s character everywhere I look. It’s present in the old brick chimney, the deep porch, the thick white columns, and even the dings in the siding that tell a story.
If I were going to design a house from scratch … it would look a whole lot like this.
I park beside Wyatt’s truck, and before I can gather my nerves—or the shredded pieces of them—the front door swings open. He steps out onto the porch with a wide, easy smile that hits me straight in the chest—making my heart do double time.
“There’s my girl,” he calls, voice full of warmth that slides into me like a hug.
Just like that, I feel like I can breathe in much-needed oxygen.
The tenderness in his gaze calms me like nothing else could.
I get out of the car, my boots crunching on the gravel edging the drive.
I walk toward him, and the closer I get, the more grounded I feel.
He meets me halfway, pulling me right into his arms as if I belong there …
and maybe I do. His hand slides along the side of my neck, warm and steady, as he tilts my face up so he can kiss me.
The kiss is soft, warm, full of need, and far too short.
When he pulls back, a tiny whimper escapes me before I can stop it.
He grins against my lips like he heard it.
And then the moment is broken by a little voice that pipes up from behind Wyatt.
“Are you Daddy’s girlfriend?”
My entire body goes rigid in his arms. I swear I freeze so fast I might actually shatter if someone bumps into me. I turn wide eyes up at Wyatt, absolutely certain I look like a deer that wandered into oncoming traffic. He just laughs softly. Of course he does. He’s not dying internally—just me.
“Come here, Caleb,” he says, and then somehow—without even fully bending—he hoists the small boy onto his hip like he weighs nothing.
Wyatt always knocks my socks off, but holding his son while wearing that sweet smile on his face?
Oh. My. God. I force my gaze to move from him to Caleb.
He’s a miniature version of Wyatt. Same dark hair, same brown-gold eyes, same sweet but ornery tilt to his mouth.
My heart doesn’t just melt—it puddles, then evaporates, before floating away like steam.
“Caleb, this is the woman I was telling you about. Gwen.”
He shifts his son a little, brushing a hand through the boy’s hair. “Gwen, this is my son, Caleb.”
“It’s really nice to meet you, Caleb,” I say, hoping my voice doesn’t crack like a middle schooler’s. Caleb studies me with all the seriousness of a man twice his age. “Are you going to have dinner with us?”
“I was thinking about it,” I say with a smile.
His eyebrows lift. “What are we gonna eat?”
“Well …” I lean in conspiratorially. “What’s your favorite thing in the whole world to eat?”
“Mac and cheese.”
I laugh, nerves easing. “If you help me make it, I bet we can make the best mac and cheese ever.”
His eyes go huge. “Really? I get to help?”
“Of course. I’ll need all the help I can get.”
He leans closer and whispers as if sharing top-secret intel, “Even my daddy?”
“Definitely Daddy, too.”
“Alright,” Caleb says, smiling. “I wouldn’t want him to feel left out.”
I glance up at Wyatt, and he’s looking at me.
He appears to be proud—maybe even approving of my interaction with his son.
I try to deny it, but I know that look on his face just makes me fall a little more in love with him.
The warmth in his eyes hits me hard enough that I feel as if my heart might burst.
“Well,” Wyatt says, shifting Caleb to one arm and reaching for my hand with the other, “let’s get my best girl inside before she turns into a popsicle and can’t cook. I’m hungry.”
“Okay, Dad!” Caleb says, bouncing a little.
“Oh wait! Buddy’s asleep in the car. I’ll go get him and meet you—”
Before I can finish, Caleb is in my arms, and Wyatt is kissing my forehead. “You take my boy inside. I’ll get the dog, sweetheart.” His gruff voice sends chills of awareness throughout my body.
“Okay,” I whisper.
“You have a dog?” Caleb asks, looking up at me as if I just hung the moon.
“Yeah. He’s a tiny poodle.”
“Can I play with him?” he asks, the hunger for me to say yes evident in his eyes.
“Definitely. He loves attention. Still, you’ll need to be really gentle with him, okay?”
“I can do that!” Caleb says energetically, making me grin. I let him slide to the porch and keep his hand in mine. I catch Wyatt’s grin before he opens the door, and something settles inside of me. My nerves—those violently thrashing little beasts that have haunted me—go completely quiet.
It’s all going to be okay.
Somehow, standing here in this old house full of character and love, with a tiny clone of Wyatt holding my hand, gives me peace. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Mal was right. I need to stop hyperventilating and just go with it. Besides, I’m already in too deep.
And I don’t want out.