Chapter 4 Blake
BLAKE
SUNLIGHT STREAMS INTO THE BEDROOM and bounces off the yellow walls, pulling me from a surprisingly restful sleep. I assumed I’d have nightmares about drowning in the lake while Wyatt stood on the dock shouting “Hang in there, kid!” but I slept great.
I roll over to find several text messages from Juliette on my phone, all from this morning because I forgot about the time difference when I spammed her phone last night.
It wasn’t until my fifth message that I remembered she’s three hours ahead of me on the East Coast, and it was two in the morning for her.
Curling onto my side, I scroll through her responses to my tirade about Wyatt ruining my summer.
JULIETTE
Ruin his summer right back. Walk around topless 24/7 so he’s in a constant state of blue balls.
Grinning to myself, I type a quick reply.
Honestly, he probably wouldn’t even notice.
It’s eleven a.m. for her, so I’m not surprised to see her typing back immediately.
JULIETTE
Boys always notice tits. Always.
I think you underestimate how invisible I am to this guy.
JULIETTE
You weren’t invisible the night he mauled you on the kitchen counter like a horny Santa.
Might as well have been. He doesn’t remember it even happened.
A pang of anxiety tugs on my stomach as I play out the rest of the summer in my head.
Sharing meals with him. Seeing him on the dock, in the water, sprawled on the couch.
This is a big house, but I won’t be able to avoid him every second of the day.
We’ll be practically on top of each other, and not in a sexy way.
The word sexy isn’t in Wyatt’s vocabulary where I’m concerned.
I can’t spend the summer with him, Jules. And he was SUCH a dick yesterday. Snapping at me and acting all annoyed, like I purposely showed up here to ruin his plans.
JULIETTE
You need to stop giving this asshole so much power over you.
She’s right. I care way too much about what Wyatt Graham thinks of me.
But I’m no longer the pathetic teenager with stars in her eyes.
I’m turning twenty-one soon. I’m an adult, a grown woman who doesn’t need to beg for a man’s attention.
And if Wyatt wants to be a dick to me, I can be a dick right back.
I’m not interested in impressing him anymore.
Which is probably a good thing, because breaking down and crying in his arms last night isn’t the way to impress anyone.
But hey, at least I finally cried. Guess I’m not a robot after all.
JULIETTE
Oh btw I went to your building yesterday and grabbed that box like you asked. Isaac left it downstairs with the doorman.
I perk up. Finally! I’ve been messaging the cheater every week for the past month, bugging him to box up some items I’d forgotten at the condo.
Thank you. I love you so much.
Hot Boi’s finally back where he belongs!
JULIETTE
So. About that.
I have bad news.
Incoming.
A photo pops up, triggering an outraged gasp.
Oh my God. That asshole.
I’m already typing a new message, this one directed at Isaac, as I climb out of bed. I hit Send, then pad into the hallway on bare feet, my bad mood only getting worse. If I was in the blue room, I’d have an en suite, but thanks to Wyatt, I’m forced to use the hall bathroom.
Teeth brushed and bladder empty, I grab my phone and go downstairs, walking into the kitchen to the sound of a very pissed-off Wyatt.
The french doors sit wide open, letting the cool morning breeze waft inside.
Our house faces east, which means we wake up every morning to the Sierras catching the morning light. It’s gorgeous.
Wyatt is standing on the deck with his back to me. Shirtless.
God, why does he have to be shirtless?
With the sunlight slanting just the right way to catch the strong lines of his back, I can’t help but admire him.
Fine, ogle him. Everything about Wyatt’s body, every fucking inch of him, is ogle-worthy.
Wide shoulders, narrow waist. Defined muscles that ripple beneath his suntanned skin with every move he makes.
He wanders closer to the railing, and his hair now catches the sun’s rays, making it appear more gold than brown.
The way he’s cut, you’d think he was an athlete like his father and not a tortured, chain-smoking musician.
Gigi told me he quit smoking, but evidently not.
A cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, lending him a dangerous air.
And his hair is longer from the last time I saw him.
It keeps falling onto his forehead, making my fingers itch to sweep it away.
I pass the long dining room table, which is covered with pieces from a newly started jigsaw puzzle.
I don’t want to eavesdrop on Wyatt’s conversation, but I also don’t want to interrupt, so I make sure my footsteps are extra loud as I enter the kitchen to pour myself some coffee.
Of course, he’s barely noticed me my whole life, so why would today be any different?
“Yeah, Dad, I heard you. I’m not a total prick, okay? I’ll—” Wyatt stops talking, turning toward the door and spotting me in the kitchen. “All right, Blake’s up. I gotta go. You know, make sure she’s fed and watered.”
My jaw drops. What the fuck?
He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray, then comes sauntering into the house as if he hadn’t just spoken about me in the most dehumanizing way.
“Fed and watered?” I demand, throwing his words back at him.
He heads for the coffee maker. “Sorry, that was more for my dad’s benefit.”
“At my expense,” I growl. “I’m not a fucking pet, Wyatt.”
“And I’m not a fucking babysitter.”
“Good, because I don’t need one. I don’t care what your dad says—”
“It’s not just my dad,” he interrupts in annoyance. “It’s all of them.” He holds up his phone, waving it around. “They pulled me into Dad Chat against my will and warned me that if I don’t protect our precious Blake Logan with my life, then I, and I quote, ‘sacrifice’ my life.”
“They didn’t.” I narrow my eyes.
Without a word, Wyatt unlocks the phone and slides it across the counter. I lean in, skimming the last few messages in the chat.
Oh my fucking God. My father actually said that.
JOHN LOGAN
If you don’t protect her with your life, you sacrifice that life.
GARRETT GRAHAM
You realize you’re speaking to my only son, right?
DEAN DI LAURENTIS
Remember when Logan used to be normal?
JOHN TUCKER
You’ll still have your son-in-law, G. You can sacrifice one.
WYATT GRAHAM
You’re all insane. Please release me from this psych ward.
“Then after I left the group, my dad called me to hammer the point home,” Wyatt grumbles as he gets himself a cup of coffee. “I’m under strict orders to not leave your side this summer.”
“Really? Well, guess what? You will be leaving my side. In fact, you will be as far away from my side as humanly possible.”
As he lifts the cup to his lips, I notice the purple bruise shadowing his cheekbone. I feel a prickle of guilt, but not enough to apologize again. He ambushed me like a feral dock dweller last night. I regret nothing.
We’re interrupted by the buzzing of my phone as two messages pop up. Isaac responding to my angry text. Awesome.
I chug the rest of my coffee and stomp toward the sink.
“He’s in your contacts as ‘the cheater’?” Wyatt sounds amused.
I turn to find him peering at my screen. “Stop reading my messages,” I order.
“Why haven’t you blocked him?”
“Because we have unfinished business.”
“You can’t possibly be thinking of taking him back.”
“I’m not. And even if I was, it’s none of your business.” I snatch the phone before he can read any more notifications.
My irritation rises to sky-high levels. All I wanted was to have a nice, relaxing summer. Do some soul-searching. Figure out my life plan. Instead, I’m stuck here with the guy who laughed when I told him I liked him and then two years later forgot about grinding his dick all over me.
Angling away from Wyatt, I click the chat thread to check what bullshit Isaac wants to feed me this morning.
THE CHEATER
I didn’t forget to put him in the box.
I’m keeping Hot Boi.
My jaw drops. I expected an excuse, not a confession. I angrily type a reply.
You CANNOT be serious.
THE CHEATER
Dead serious. He belongs with me.
FFS Isaac. This isn’t a custody battle for a human child. I’m the one who bought him.
THE CHEATER
And I’m the one who named him. I bonded with him. You never even respected the heat settings.
OMG How is this happening right now. It’s a toaster!!!
THE CHEATER
See this is why you don’t deserve him. You underestimate him. He has a croissant mode.
“This is a child.” Wyatt’s voice echoes over my shoulder, making me jump.
“Stop reading my texts,” I say in exasperation.
“You realize that, right, Logan? You dated a child.”
“Yes, that is clear now, Graham. Thank you so much for pointing it out.”
“With that said, and please don’t hate me, but…” Wyatt’s lips twitch. “His sense of humor is stellar.”
“Don’t you dare compliment him,” I mutter, even as I’m furiously composing another text.
You used croissant mode once and then you whined for an hour because it over-toasted. Hot Boi is mine. I want him back.
THE CHEATER
We all want things in this life.
I swallow a scream of frustration. Why are men so fucking crazy!
“Sort of seems like you’re still into this guy,” Wyatt says lightly, sipping his coffee. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be picking fights about a toaster.”
“It’s my toaster,” I shoot back. “And it’s a matter of principle.”
“Whatever you say, kid.”
A wave of anger slams into me. “No.” I jam my finger in the air, because I’ve had it up to here. I’m done. Fucking done. “Call me that one more time and I’ll smash your guitar to smithereens.”
He simply arches a brow.