Chapter 40 Wyatt
WYATT
I ASSUMED THAT THE DRAMATIC end of a Golden Boy friendship—something I never dreamed possible—would also mean the end of the dramatics for the day. But I was wrong.
I’m in bed later that night, once again fighting insomnia because I can’t sleep without Blake, when there’s a soft knock on my door. Seconds later, my dad pokes his head in.
“Get dressed and meet me on the pier.”
Huh?
Confused, I pull on a pair of sweatpants and an old band hoodie and shove my feet into my slides. The house is dark and quiet as I head downstairs, the kitchen illuminated only by the strip of lighting underneath the cabinets. I exit through the back, letting the moonlight guide me to our pier.
I spot the bowrider bobbing in the dark water with two shadowy figures on board.
That should’ve been my first sign to turn away.
But I’m too curious, and then it’s too late because they’ve spotted me.
My dad and Logan. Like me, they’re in hoodies, only they’re also in all black and wearing baseball caps.
“What is this?” I say warily.
“Get in the boat,” Logan orders.
I look at my dad. “This feels like a trap.”
He sighs. “Just get in the boat.”
I don’t want to, but I do. Soon, the engine purrs softly as we glide across the water. I sit in the back, only about eighty percent certain I’m not about to get murdered. My dad would never kill me, but there’s a twenty percent chance he won’t be able to stop Logan in time.
“Hey,” I realize. “So you guys are talking again?”
“Shut up,” Logan says without turning around from the pilot seat.
Okay then.
I shift my gaze to the lake. It’s glossy and black tonight, reflecting the stars above as little pinpricks of silver across the water.
When the silence drags on, I clear my throat. “You guys aren’t gonna kill me, right? Because I’ve seen this movie, and it never ends well for the guy in the back of the boat.”
Dad chuckles. “Your mother would kill me if I killed you. Don’t worry.”
That does provide some solace. My dad hates angering my mom.
When we’re about a hundred yards from the house, Logan cuts the engine and lets the boat drift. Finally, he turns to face me, his expression deadly.
“What are your intentions with my daughter?”
I swallow a sigh. “We already had this talk. Blake and I are just—”
“Hanging out,” he finishes coldly. “Well, guess what? My daughter? She deserves a helluva lot better than hanging out.”
“No, I know that. It’s not…” Discomfort rises inside me. “Look, I’m aware of my track record with women, but Blake isn’t someone I’m just going to mess around with and discard. She means a lot to me.”
“Told you,” Dad says smugly, glancing at Logan.
Logan crosses his arms. “Your father’s trying to convince me that you’re not just using her for”—he grimaces—“sex, and that is the last time I’m ever gonna say the word sex in connection with my daughter.”
“I’m not using her.”
Heat creeps up my neck. I hate being forced into a position where I need to articulate my feelings to other people when I haven’t even figured them out myself.
“All right,” Blake’s dad says. “You want to prove you’re not playing with her? Tell me three things you like about her.”
“Just three?” I say dryly, and I see my dad trying not to smile.
“Told you,” Dad gloats.
I glare at him. “What exactly have you been telling him?”
“I mean it,” Logan says firmly. “Name three things you like about her. Go.”
I groan. “Can we please not have this conversation on a boat where I can’t escape?”
“Nope. We’re not leaving here until you convince me that she’s not just a toy for you.”
“Of course she’s not a toy.” Aggravation spirals through me.
“Fine, you want three things? She’s smart.
And not in the obvious book-smart way. She’s sharp and analytical and notices things that other people don’t notice.
And she’s got a stupid amount of discipline.
She spends hours researching the most random bullshit, except it’s not bullshit to her.
She’s genuinely fascinated with learning new things.
She’s always solving these puzzles that the rest of us don’t even know exist. And it’s really fucking amazing. ”
Logan blinks in surprise.
“She argues with me about everything, but it never annoys me. It makes me feel like I’m…awake. Like I’m not just going through the motions.”
Now they’re both staring at me, but I can’t fucking stop. The words are pouring out.
“She has the most calming energy of anyone I’ve ever known, and I feel at peace just being around her. And yes, she’s gorgeous, obviously, and…”
I trail off, my cheeks burning. Fuck. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.
“Oh shit,” Logan says, looking at my father. “You might be right.”
“No, he’s not right,” I grumble. “Whatever he told you, he’s not right.”
“So you’re not in love with my daughter?”
I falter. “No.”
“You just recited a dozen reasons why you think she’s incredible,” Dad tells me, grinning like the asshole he is.
“I’m saying I like her,” I mutter. “And that I’m not using her. That this isn’t some joke to me, and she’s not a toy.” I shove my hands through my hair. I don’t get embarrassed often, but I’m glad it’s pitch-black out, because I’m pretty sure I’m blushing.
Logan studies me before letting out a long, slightly overdramatic sigh. “Look. I’ve known you your whole life. I know you’re not a bad guy, even if your dick has done some questionable things in the past. But… If my daughter’s going to fall for anyone, I guess I’m okay if it’s you.”
“She hasn’t fallen for me,” I protest. “No one’s falling for anyone.”
“But,” he continues, ignoring me, “if you hurt one hair on her head, we will take another midnight boat ride, and I will fucking drown you.”
“I’ll probably stop him,” Dad says to neutralize the threat.
My gaze slides between the two of them. “So you’re friends again?”
Dad looks confused. “We were always friends.”
“You kept calling each other Mr. Logan and Mr. Graham at dinner.”
“Yeah. In a friendly way.”
Logan’s tone takes on a note of regret. “I’m sorry I called your son a whore, G.”
I scowl. “When did you call me a whore?”
He waves a hand. “Oh, you weren’t there for it.”
Dad shrugs from his perch at the copilot’s seat. “It’s all good,” he tells Logan. “He sort of earned that rep.”
“Blake will straighten him out,” Logan assures him.
“Obviously. She’s a great girl. He’s lucky to have her.”
I rumble in frustration. “Seriously? Now you’re both happy about this?”
“Of course,” Dad says. “We’ve been dreaming about this since we were boys.”
“You met in college!”
“College boys,” he shrugs.
I sigh. I will never understand this friendship. Ever.
But it’s not as confusing as all the emotions currently racing through me. As we start to head back to shore, I slump against the side of the boat, feeling like I’d just been ambushed and exposed at the same time.