Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ivy
Twenty minutes later, we’re back at Wyatt’s place. I help him to his room, anxiety twisting in my chest. His skin’s burning even hotter than before, and all I can think about is getting something in him to bring the fever down.
“Sit,” I tell him. “I’ll grab some Tylenol.”
He sinks onto the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped as he slowly kicks off his shoes. I head into the bathroom, rummage through the cabinet until I find a bottle of painkillers, then hurry back to him.
“Here.” I hand him two tablets and reach for the half-full water bottle on his nightstand. He takes them without a word, swallowing them down with a wince.
He tugs weakly at his shirt, trying to get it off, but his hands are unsteady. Without a word, I step in and ease the fabric over his head, brushing his hands aside. My breath catches for a second as my eyes land on him, bare-chested, and gorgeous.
“You keep looking at me like that, and I’m going to forget I feel like death,” he says, his voice husky.
I smile, brushing hair back from his damp forehead. “You need rest, not distractions.”
He groans, falling back against the pillows as I pull the comforter down and help him get under the covers, tucking him in securely.
“Stay,” he says quietly, reaching for my hand.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I slip off my shoes and climb in beside him. I don’t press in too close at first, but it only takes a moment before he reaches for me, draping an arm around my waist and pulling me in like he can’t stand the space between us.
I expected to feel nervous, being in his bed like this, but I don’t. It feels right, like we’ve finally stepped into something we’d both been circling around for far too long.
I press a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Go to sleep, Wyatt. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
His breath evens out against my neck, and I lie there, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, my fingers lightly tracing his arm. It’s been a long time since I dared to believe in something like this, but now it feels like Wyatt could be everything I’ve been waiting so long for.
That he’s not just someone I wanted. He’s someone I have.
Even though I promised Wyatt I’d be there when he woke up, he ends up sleeping for a solid sixteen hours. I’m curled up on the sofa with the TV playing in the background when I hear footsteps coming from the hallway.
He wanders into the kitchen, still looking a little dazed, hair messy and eyes heavy with sleep.
“Hey,” I say, rising from the sofa and walking toward him. I want to throw my arms around him, but part of me hesitates. What if he doesn’t remember what he said last night? He was feverish and half out of it when he fell asleep. “How are you feeling?”
He smiles and reaches for me, his arms wrapping around my waist like he’s checking I’m real. “So, it wasn’t a dream?” he says, his voice gravelly and low. “You’re actually here… with me?”
Relief spills through me, and I smile, lifting my arms to loop around his neck, my fingers pushing into the hair at his nape. “I’m really here,” I whisper.
He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. I press in closer, relieved to feel his skin is cooler now, the heat from the fever mostly gone.
“I can’t believe I haven’t kissed you yet,” he says, his voice husky.
I lean back to meet his eyes. “Still not feeling well?”
“I am,” he says quickly. “But I don’t want to risk getting you sick.”
“I don’t care, Wyatt. I’ve been waiting weeks for you to kiss me.” I tilt my head, my heart pounding. “Actually, I’ve been waiting years.”
His smile is warm and all-consuming. He lifts a hand to cup my cheek, and I lean into his palm, my breath catching.
“Years, huh?” I nod. “Then I shouldn’t make you wait another second.”
He lowers his head, brushing his lips against mine.
My heart pounds. When he starts to pull away, I close the gap and kiss him again.
My fingers curl into his hair as the kiss deepens, and when his tongue grazes my bottom lip, I open up to him with a moan.
He holds me like he can’t bear to let go, and I feel exactly the same.
No one’s ever kissed me like this, like I’m something special, something worthy, and it feels incredible.
“Jesus, Ivy,” he breathes against my lips, his voice uneven. “Why the hell haven’t we done that before?”
I don’t respond right away. I can’t. My head’s still spinning, my lips still burning from the kiss. It felt like everything had been building up to that moment, every look, every brush of skin, every word left unsaid, finally exploded into something real. Something electric.
“We’re both idiots,” I tell him with a smile. “Now kiss me again.”
He grins. “So bossy.”
He leans in and kisses me again, slower this time, like he’s savoring it. Like he wants to memorize every second. His hands move from my waist to my ass, and he squeezes, eliciting a low moan.
When he pulls out of the kiss, he steps back, taking my hands in his.
“Why aren’t you wearing the jersey I gave you?” he asks, taking in my shorts and tank.
I lower my gaze. “I didn’t bring it,” I say. “Last time I wore it… you seemed a little off. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to wear it again.”
He gives me a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry if I made you feel unsure.” He reaches up, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “That wasn’t what I meant to do at all. I was barely holding it together.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
He exhales, his eyes fixed on mine. “I’d just spent the whole night with you, touching you, holding you, letting myself pretend just for a little while that you were mine.
Then we got back here, and suddenly, I wasn’t allowed to touch you at all.
And seeing you in my number… all I could think about was pulling you into me and kissing you like I meant it. But I couldn’t.”
My cheeks warm, and he notices, the corners of his mouth lifting.
“I wanted you to be mine so badly,” he says, his voice low. “That jersey... it’s what girlfriends and wives wear. And seeing you in it, it got in my head. Made me want that with you. More than I already did.”
“I wanted it too,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “I just didn’t think you’d ever look at me that way. But then… there were little things you said, things you did, that made me wonder if maybe something had changed.”
He tilts his head curiously. “What things?”
“You started holding my hand,” I say. I toss him an amused look. “A lot. You never used to do that.”
He grins. “I just couldn’t stop touching you. Still can’t. What else?”
“You told me I was the most real person you’d ever met,” I remind him. “And that I was out of your league.”
He snorts. “You are out of my league. Have you looked in a mirror?”
I laugh. “Please. Have you looked in one?”
“I’m wildly overrated,” he says with a smirk. “What else?”
“Corey.”
My jaw ticks. “What about him?”
“You were weird about me showing him that house.”
“He wanted you, Ivy. I was jealous as hell,” he admits.
I smile and reach my hand up to cup his cheek. “You had nothing to be jealous about. I was never interested in Corey.”
“Good.” He leans down and kisses me. “Anything else?”
I roll my eyes jokingly. “The Ferrari.”
This time, it’s his turn to flush a little. “That was a tactical move. Also, I’m pretty sure I scored major points with your dad.”
I grin. “Who said the car was what impressed me?”
His eyes go wide. “Wait, it didn’t?”
I shrug, teasing. “It’s flashy, sure. But not a deal breaker. That kind of stuff doesn’t matter to me.”
He tilts his head. “Okay then… what did win you over?”
I soften my voice. “You with Luca at the stadium. You didn’t do that for show, or for me. Seeing you with him showed me the kind of man you are, and that changed everything for me.”
“I love meeting the young fans, and knowing it mattered to you... God, Ivy. That means more than you realize.”
“I said you’re a good man, Wyatt. I meant it.”
He gives me a small smile. “I have a confession,” he says, taking my hand and guiding me over to the couch in the living room. He sits and pulls me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me.
“Should I be worried?” I ask, half joking, half serious.
He shakes his head. “Cleo called me right before we left for the charity dinner. You were still getting ready.”
“Okay…” I reply slowly. There’s no love lost between Cleo and me, so I can’t help but wonder if this has something to do with me.
“She said we shouldn’t go public with our ‘relationship’ that night. Thought it’d look bad. She wanted us to act like we barely knew each other.”
My brows draw together. “Why?”
“She was worried the charity might think I rigged the auction, like I staged the bidding.”
I blink. “Then why did we go along with the whole couple act?”
His eyes soften. “Because I wanted to touch you more than I wanted to breathe. Even before we agreed to fake it for Cleo’s sake, I wanted to be close to you. Pretending you were mine, even just for one night… I couldn’t pass that up.”
I stare at him, stunned.
“You’re mad,” he says quietly, searching my face.
I shake my head. “No. When did it change for you?”
He exhales heavily and rakes a hand through his hair. “The night of the auction, when we sat and talked for hours. It felt like we clicked. I always knew you were beautiful; I’m not blind, but we’d never actually spent time together. Not like that. Everything just… changed.”
I’m caught off guard hearing that his feelings developed so early on.
It took me a little longer to realize what I felt, but maybe that’s because it had always been there, buried beneath my old teenage crush.
I’d pushed it down when nothing ever came of it.
But now it’s back, lit up brighter than ever, and I don’t want to lose it.
“Well,” I say with a teasing smile. “It’s a good thing I gave Ricky that fake number.”
He laughs and tickles my side. “Like I was ever gonna let that happen.”
I giggle, batting his hands away.
“If we’re trading confessions… I have one too,” I say, a bit nervously.
“Oh yeah?”
I nod. “Ash set us up the night of the charity auction.”
His brow furrows. “She set us up? Why would she do that?”
“Because I told her I had a crush on you when I was sixteen.”
His face lights up. “Seriously?”
Blushing, I bury my head against his chest. He wraps his arms around me tighter and presses a kiss to the top of my head.
“I only told her a few weeks ago,” I mumble.
“You didn’t tell her back then?” he asks, lifting my chin gently.
“Nope. I knew she’d turn full-on matchmaker.”
He laughs. “And why’d you tell her now?”
“It was after you helped Laney when her car broke down. She said you were hot and I agreed. Ash overheard, and I confessed. After the auction, I found out she’d set it all up, hoping we’d spend time together and something might click.” I lean in and kiss him. “Turns out, she was right.”
“So we owe Ash a thank you?”
“Yep. She’s going to be unbearable when she realizes she was right.”
He laughs. “I don’t care. I’m just glad she was.”
Before I can respond, my phone rings from the side table. Wyatt pulls out of the kiss, leans over, and grabs it.
“Think she knows we’ve been talking about her?” he says, showing me the phone, Ash’s name flashing on the screen.
“Do you mind if I speak to her?”
“Of course not. I’ll make us some breakfast.”
I lean in and kiss him again. “Only if you’re feeling better.”
He smiles. “I’m good. Speak to Ash.”
I take the phone and slip off his lap, my eyes following him as he heads into the kitchen. It still feels surreal, like I’m dreaming, and I can’t wait to tell Ash every single detail.