6. Wyatt
6
WYATT
F or a full week now, Molly has been by my side. Our days have melded together in a blur as we share my bed each night and I’ve merged her into my daily routines. We’ve gone on short hikes—easy ones to be mindful of her healing ankle—played with Bear, cooked meals, and relaxed on the porch. She’s taken to mountain life much quicker than I expected for a city girl. Then again, I shouldn’t be surprised by anything she does. She’s an amazing woman and her ex was a dumbass to let her go.
I assumed she’d get bored, knowing that life out here isn’t thrilling like it is in Seattle. Instead, she’s become more content, happy even, as time passes. But all good things must come to an end. Her vacation is almost over. She goes back to the real world tomorrow, and panic twists in my gut at the thought.
I don’t want her to go. Not yet. I’m not ready to lose her.
We haven’t talked about it, but at some point, we should have. Ground rules were never set, and that can only result in heartache—mine, not hers. Although I can’t believe she doesn’t care about me. Maybe it’s not to the extent I do for her, but I know she cares. She has to. She wouldn’t be here every day with me if she didn’t. She paid a lot of money for that rental cabin, and she doesn’t strike me as the type of person to throw her hard-earned cash away. Still, I wish I knew how she felt or what’s going on in her head right now. Something, anything, to tell me she wants to stay.
I lift my gaze, glancing at her while keeping still in the chair. Her full, heavy breasts are right in my face, covered by one of my old t-shirts. My cock thickens in my jeans, but I refrain from exposing her smooth flesh and taking one of her hardened nipples into my mouth.
“How short do you want it?” she asks, raking her fingers through my hair and grazing her manicured nails along my scalp. A thrill snakes through me when her hands are on me, and I close my eyes to relish the sensation.
I kneeled before her in the shower this morning and ate her delectable pussy until she came all over my beard. Then she washed my hair for me, and it was one of the most intimate and erotic moments I’ve ever had. She noticed I could use a good trim, and I admitted it had been a while since I’d been to town to get one. Now, here we are, on my back porch and she’s doing it for me, her movements careful and precise while she ensures the length is even. This must be what it’s like to have a woman care for you, and I can honestly say I’ve never experienced it.
She steps back and holds out a mirror so I can examine her work. She did a great job. It looks as good as if I paid a professional. “It’s perfect, sweetheart. Thank you.”
You’re perfect , I want to tell her, but I don’t.
Why make things harder for us both when I know it won’t change anything?
The truth is, I’m in love with her, but I know she deserves someone better than me. Someone who isn’t disfigured with a bum leg. Someone she’d be proud to show off to her friends. Isn’t that what Alyssa said? That she’d be too embarrassed to be seen with me? She wanted to marry me for my money, which only makes her harsh words hurt a little bit more.
Maybe there’s some truth to what she said. Maybe other women feel the same. I can’t take that kind of rejection twice, so I’ll just keep my feelings to myself. Molly doesn’t need to know about my past life or my money, and she doesn’t need to know how much I love her. It’s better this way, or at least that’s what I tell myself, even if the lie tastes bitter on my tongue.
Standing, I remove the towel draped around my shoulders, sending hair clippings fluttering to the ground. Then I reach for Molly’s hand, intertwining our fingers, still amazed that she so easily accepts my touch. I tug her behind me into the living room before gesturing for her to sit on the couch. She snuggles into the cushions, tucking her bare feet beneath her while I grab us two glasses of lemonade from the kitchen.
“You look like you’ve got something on your mind,” Molly declares when I take a seat beside her on the couch. Her tone is unusually somber, and I wonder if she’s picking up on my energy or if she’s thinking about tomorrow. Thinking about when she’ll leave me.
“You never asked, but I thought you should know.” I swallow thickly, and Molly takes my hand into hers, the warmth of her palms soothing me.
She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t encourage me to talk. Just waits until I’m ready to share my story.
“A few years ago, I was living in Seattle. I had a huge penthouse downtown with expensive luxury vehicles in the private garage and a closet full of custom-tailored suits.”
Her mouth drops open and her brows lift. “Wow. Okay… so you were a completely different person. Got it.”
I chuckle, but the sound is humorless. “I was an asshole, sweetheart, but I didn’t care. My world revolved around making money and spending lots of it. I had plenty of friends and a trophy fiancée. I thought that my life was perfect, but I couldn’t have been more wrong.”
She shifts closer to me, laying her head on my shoulder while rubbing calming circles on my chest. “So, what happened?”
“A fucking skiing accident—that’s what happened.” I feel her wince as her grip tightens around my bicep. “I was an advanced skier. Traveled the world to experience the best slopes. Then a newbie got on a black diamond trail they shouldn’t have been on and took a nasty tumble right in front of me as we passed by a densely wooded area. I veered to the side to avoid hitting him, but another skier collided with me, pushing me closer to the woods and into a huge boulder.”
Her chin lifts, and she gazes at me, but it’s concern I see in her eyes, not pity. The way she looks at me heals a part of my soul that’s been damaged ever since that fateful day. “You could’ve been killed. Or hurt far worse.” Her brow wrinkles as she stares at me with watery eyes.
I lean down and kiss her forehead, smoothing away her worry. “I could have, but I wasn’t. I got an ugly gash from a tree limb, and after several surgeries, I’m left with a slight limp. I’m lucky to be alive, so I didn’t think these things were a big deal. Evidently, others disagree.”
“What do you mean? Who disagrees?”
“Everything changed after that day.” I lift her hand, placing her palm on my wounded cheek. Closing my eyes as I continue to lean into her warm touch. “My chances at being a model were crushed,” I joke, and Molly rolls her eyes at me. “I had the most-skilled plastic surgeons in the world, but this is the best they could do. It’s not pretty, but it’s far better than what it could’ve been.” I hate looking in the mirror every day. Not because I think I’m ugly, but because it reminds me of the life I used to have.
“I won’t pretend I didn’t notice it when we first met.” Her candor is refreshing and much preferred to the lies I’m used to. “It’s a part of you—a part of who you are—but I don’t pay it any attention.”
“If it were just the scar, then maybe I could have dealt with it. It’s the bum leg too. My friends and I were all adrenaline junkies, pushing each other to take greater risks. Motorcycle racing, skydiving, cliff jumping… You name it and we tried it. Once I couldn’t do those things anymore, they stopped coming around.”
“Sounds like they were assholes and not friends,” she huffs with a cute scowl.
“You’re probably right, baby.” I tug her closer into my side with a squeeze. “But the nail in the coffin was Alyssa.” My ex’s name tastes like a mouthful of lemon juice.
“ Alyssa . That’s the ex-fiancée, right?”
“That’s her. Guess the scar on my face was hideous and would ruin all her wedding photos. Her photos. She didn’t say ours .” My lips curl into a sneer at the memory. “How could she be seen with me at lavish parties or galas when I looked like this ? And heaven forbid one of the gossip columns posted pictures of us. She’d be ruined .” I feign the same horror Alyssa had at the thought.
“That bitch.” Molly’s lips pinch together into a glower. “What kind of person were you planning to marry?” Her tone is fiery, and it feels good to have someone offended on my behalf for once.
“I could ask you the same thing.” I raise a challenging eyebrow while I suppress a grin.
“I just can’t believe these people would treat you like that. It’s cruel.”
“Maybe. I told you I was an asshole back then. Guess I attracted other assholes in my life.”
“Sounds like it,” Molly mutters. “But you’re different now. Kind and generous. Funny and sweet. You shouldn’t hide that away up here like some kind of recluse.”
“Hey, I’m not a recluse. I come down from the mountain.” I pretend to be grieved. “I just needed to get away for a while—like someone else I know—but I ended up staying. The thought of going back seems so… foreign and strange now.”
She bites the corner of her lower lip and nods her head.
It’s true. I can’t imagine leaving this life and going back to the city. I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t belong there. And I love it here. This is where I’m supposed to be. It’s just a shame that it took a skiing accident to make me change.
Molly turns toward me, and I stare into her soulful eyes. “I hate that you were hurt, physically and emotionally, but I like the person you are now. And I like that I get to be here with you, even if it’s just for a little while.” The sincerity in her tone does nothing to pacify the ache in my chest from those last few words.
I don’t want a little while. I want forever.