Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Wynter
M y parents left on a grocery run, so when Scott and I return from riding around the farm, Vanessa is here waiting. And Scott can’t get out of here quickly enough. He’s feeling guilty for nearly kissing me. For brushing his lips against mine. God, I’m a terrible person.
Vanessa and I sit on the couch in the great room. I’m mentally warring with myself over whether I should tell her about the almost kiss with Scott. Will she think I’m a cheater?.
Tingles shot up my body as his lips grazed mine. His dark-brown eyes melted into mine. His lids were heavy with desire, and I’m struggling to put the pieces of this puzzle together. Maybe if I tell Vanessa, I can grab some clues from her body language.
“What do you want to watch? Judge Judy ? General Hospital ? News?” she asks.
“You should be at wo rk. Don’t you have a bourbon empire to run?”
She throws her head back, laughing. Her golden curls are pulled back from her face in a clasp, with the rest hanging down. “Are you kidding? I don’t run the place; Dorothy does.”
“Who’s Dorothy?”
“My assistant. She’s been there for a hundred years. Remember, she’s the one who chased us out of the distillery when we were fifteen.”
I try to recall, closing my eyes, and I see myself and a guy standing on a bourbon barrel, kissing, but the memory of his face is blurred out.
“I remember kissing someone in there, then you and Beau yelling run. But I don’t remember Dorothy.”
“Yet. You will. I’m so happy you remember kissing S… someone.”
“Scott and I had a fantastic morning. He drove me around, and I took photos. Can I share something awful?”
She nods.
“I admitted to wanting to kiss him.”
“That’s my girl, always willing to say what she wants.”
“But I’m married.”
“You are, but did you kiss?”
“Not really, but our lips touched, but it made my heart race and my core ache.” After that, it was strictly business. He was distracted and after a couple of hours, he said he had an interview to do about his medical device. I probably just ruined our friendship. I’m such an idiot. Drake is one of his best friends.”
“I promise you the friendship you have with Scott has weathered many storms, and nothing will destroy that. ” She pats my leg as she flips through the channels. “Oh, there’s Scott.”
She increases the volume, and we watch our handsome friend talk about helping people.
“I’m happy to be part of helping people enjoy their life, and that’s what this medical device does. When the doctor can implant this device that I’ve spent years studying, children and adults can lead longer and normal lives. At least that’s what the research and outcomes of the surgeries prove. Hopefully, by this time next year, it will be available to doctors nationwide.”
I notice at the bottom of the screen, it says:
Scott Wilson, Hookedontheheart Companies
Wilson? Are Scott and Drake brothers?
“He’s so smart.”
“Scott? Scott Wilson? Are Scott and Drake…”
My words out on pause when the doorbell rings and Vanessa hops over the back of the couch to answer it.
“Drake, how are you feeling?” she asks.
“Better. Is Wynter awake?”
“Yeah, come on in. Do you want anything to drink?”
“Water is fine,” he answers as he comes into view. “Remember me?” He chuckles.
Drake’s skin seems a little yellow and drained. It could be that he’s wearing a camouflage shirt, and it’s not the right color for his complexion. “I do. Come sit. I thought you were coming tomorrow. Are you feeling better?” I ask as I ramble, feeling guilty over my thoughts of Scott.
Vanessa hands him a glass and asks, “Since Drake’s here, I’m going to run to work and see if I can help Dorothy with the bourbon. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She wraps her arms around me. “You’ve got this.”
“Thanks for everything.”
As I sit next to Drake, the weight of the conversation I need to have with him settles on my shoulders.
“So, Scott called me,” he begins, his voice cautious without inflection. “And he said you’ve regained some memories.” He seems unsure if he wants me to remember, and I think I know why.
Nodding, I gather my thoughts. “I have,” I confirm, wanting to be cautious and not get my hopes too high or the hopes of my husband. “They’re small and disjointed snippets, and most don’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. But since I’ve been home, they’ve been coming on faster.” I pause, grasping for the right words to confront him about a memory involving him.
“Good. I’m sorry I haven’t been around, but that flu strand is no joke.”
“I’m glad you’re better because I need to ask you about something.” My voice is on the shaky side. I don’t know about the old me, but the current me doesn’t like confrontation. “I can’t always tell whether my dreams are just dreams, or if they’re actual memories. Sometimes, I hesitate to ask because the doctors asked everyone not to fill in the gaps for me.” I suck in a breath. “But I can’t dance around this. I need to know what we were fighting about on the day of the accident. Glimpses of that day are haunting me. I remember jerking away from you… not wanting you to touch me. Why? Why would I not want my husband to touch me? What could you have said to me to make me flee?”
My heart pounds as my question stretches between us, and his eyes meet mine as he wrings his hands.
“Did you ask me for a divorce? Do you not want the baby? Did you cheat on me? Please just tell me,” I plead. “I need to know.”
“No, none of those things.”
“Then what?”
His lips quiver, and he drops his head into his hands before raising up again. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for upsetting you that day. If I hadn’t, none of this would have happened.”
“I ate the sandwich and then…” Another memory flashes. “You kissed me. But why would that upset me?”
He pushes to his feet and lets out a groan. “I told you I loved you.”
“Yeah… so?”
Drake covers his mouth, then drops his hands. “You’re not mine to love.”
I feel my eyes crinkling around the edges in confusion. “Despite my efforts to contain my feelings, I admitted that I had fallen in love with you.”
My head tilts and shakes. “I… don’t understand.”
Before he can respond, Scott bursts through the door, yelling, “You son of a bitch.” He stops behind the couch and stares at Drake. “You fucker. You’re supposed to be one of my best friends.”
Drake says, “Take your shot. It’s warranted.”
“What’s going on?” I ask as Scott circles the sectional and grabs Drake by his camo t-shirt.
“She’s my wife. You hear me.”
Is Drake cheating with Scott’s wife?
Scott releases him by pushing him toward the stone fireplace and pulls a phone from his pocket. The case is black with rhinestones.
“I’m sorry,” Drake counters.
“Are you? Do you realize what you’ve done? You’ve wrecked three lives. Our friendship.”
I push myself to a standing position and balance myself by holding onto the arm cushion. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” I ask as chaos floods my brain, and I feel a headache rushing on.
Scott spins, looking over his shoulder. “Wynter, it’s fine. Drake and I will take this outside.”
“No. I don’t care what the doctors say. I want to know what’s going on. I had a memory and was asking Drake about it when you stormed in. Please tell me why I was upset that my husband kissed me.”
“He kissed you?” Scott asks, his tone defiant and filled with anger. “This just keeps getting better and better.”
The air feels like clouds of thunderstorms are brewing in the great room, laying heavy on our heads as I wait anxiously for answers.
“I did. I’m in love with her—my best friend's wife—I couldn’t deny it any longer,” Drake admits, but I’m stuck on his best friend’s wife. Drake told me he loved me that day, not Scott’s wife. My brain desperately attempts to put all the pieces of my life together.
“Drake? Who are you in love with?” I ask in a hushed tone. It sounds ridiculous coming from my mouth.
“You.”
“Then why would I be mad at you for telling me?”
“Scott will fill you in. It’s not my place.”
“You’re damn right it’s not your place. Not your wife. Leave before I… just fucking leave,” Scott’s veins are bulging on his neck and forehead. And even though he’s gentle guy, he has a fierce protective side.
Drake walks past Scott and touches me on the shoulder. I’m left without answers, and Scott looks like he could tear a grizzly bear apart with nothing but his hands.
With a deep breath to brace against the pain of my broken leg and bruised ribs, I move slowly around the couch. Each step sends an unfriendly reminder of the accident and the pain that it caused.
Stopping in front of Scott, I demand, “I’m going to let you cool off a minute, but then you’re telling me everything I want to know, regardless of what the doctors believe is the right course of action. This is my life. Mine.”