Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The Ranch
“You know you fucked up the plan,” Wyn said as she reached for her mug of tea off the end table.
I blew on my steaming cup of chamomile. “How so?”
“You met a boy. You let the boy move in with you. Instead, it could’ve been you and me, having a four-day slumber party instead of me crashing on this couch.”
Wyn smiled to take the sting out of the truth.
“Sorry,” I said.
“No, you’re not.” She snorted. “You’re happy. And getting some on the regular. I get wanting that more than anything.”
It was just past eight and the house was already quiet. Everyone had retired to their rooms and Brooks had gone to hang out with Archer and told me to text when I was ready to leave.
“All right,” I said. “Let’s have it. Give me more of your opinions.”
“Opinions? On what?”
“You know what.”
She took a small sip of her peppermint tea. “You really want me to tell you the truth?”
“God help me, yes.” I smiled and sent her a pleading look.
“That man is head over heels in love with you,” Wyn said. “He can’t take his eyes off you.”
A shiver of pleasure worked its way down my spine.
“I love how he takes care of you,” she said.
“You mean him buying me a car?”
“That,” she agreed. “But also his simple, quiet gestures. Refilling your water glass, his hand on your thigh. He has to be touching you. I love that for you.”
“But?”
She shook her head. “You’re an adult. It wouldn’t matter what I thought anyway. What any of us thought. Would it?”
“It would matter, but I know I’m right about Brooks. It would hurt me if you thought it was bad, but I’d do it anyway,” I admitted quietly.
She looked like she wanted to say something, but she quickly shut her mouth and stared at her steaming tea.
“What?” I pressed.
“Are you waiting for the other shoe to drop?”
“Other shoe?” I repeated. “No. I don’t think so. Why would I?”
“Because even though you two are like this,” she crossed her fingers, “you still haven’t been together very long. There’s always another shoe.”
“What are you really saying?” I asked her.
“I think he’s hiding something from you.”
Her words struck me, and my first instinct was to rebel, to defend Brooks. But as her words sank into my psyche, I turned them over.
“Like what?” I asked. “What could he be hiding?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just get the feeling that there’s more to him than what he’s showing you.”
My chest ached.
“He told me why he went to prison,” I said slowly. “But he’s not that man anymore. His past is his past.”
“Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?” She leaned forward and took my hand.
“Listen, I’m gonna say one thing and then I’m gonna drop it and let you handle shit yourself.
He might be the one you’ve chosen to be with, but he’s the only one you’ve been with.
Men lie. Men evade. Men will say anything to get you into bed. And then it all . . . falls apart.”
I took a deep breath and squeezed her hand. “Wyn?”
“Yeah, Poet?”
“That’s your stuff,” I said gently. “That’s not mine.”
I released her fingers.
She didn’t say anything, but her jaw clamped shut.
“You don’t like me calling you on your crap, do you?” I asked.
Wyn looked away from me. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know,” I said. “But at some point, you have to decide love is worth the risk. And hopefully one day you’ll find someone worth throwing caution to the wind and taking a risk.”
“I won’t,” she said flatly. “It’ll never work for me. So, I’m taking myself off the table. Out of the running.”
Tears gathered in my eyes as I realized what she wasn’t willing to say out loud.
The men she’d dated hadn’t just disappointed her. They’d proven they were only after one thing, and once they had it, they left. They discarded. They swiped on someone else.
“Their shortcomings are not your fault,” I said.
“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But I keep choosing them. I keep falling for them and their lies. Well, no more, Poet. I can’t do it anymore. I’d rather be alone than used again. I’ve got nothing left.”
I set my mug of tea aside and then took her cup from her and did the same. And then I enveloped my oldest friend in a tight embrace.
I’d thought there was something wrong with me—a virgin at twenty-three—because society told me there was something broken inside me. But I wasn’t broken. I was a lock with only one right key.
“You know the worst thing about being hopeful?” Wyn said, her words muffled against my shoulder. “I keep thinking the next one will be different. But they’re all the same.”
“Maybe you’re doing it wrong,” I said.
“Doing what wrong? Sex?”
I chuckled. “No. I meant, how you choose the men to be with. Maybe you should lead with your heart instead of your body. You might have a different experience.”
She pulled back and looked at me, her eyes shining bright with resolve. Finally, she nodded. “You’re right. If I want something to change, then it has to start with me. From now on, a man can only get into my pants if he gets into my heart first.”
“I think that’s a stellar idea.” I smiled. “Because you’re so wonderful, Wyn. And you deserve someone who’s head over heels for you.”
“If he’s not obsessed, I don’t want him,” she vowed.
“That’s the spirit.”
She grinned. “Speaking of obsessed. Brooks is obsessed with you.”
“Yeah. I know.” I sighed. “You know what’s weird? I thought it might be smothering. But with him, I don’t feel that way at all. That’s how I know he’s the right one for me.”
She sighed. “Get out of here. Take that delicious man home and have your way with him.”
“Yes ma’am.” I smiled. “Sweet Teeth tomorrow morning?”
“You know it.”
I texted Brooks that I was ready to leave and then hugged Wyn goodbye.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said to her.
“Me too. I think I get the draw of this place.” She shook her head. “I’ve been here less than eight hours and I’m already having life-changing conversations about perspective.”
“Magic,” I said with a chuckle.
I got up and left the den, dumping my tea and quickly washing out my mug before placing it in the dish drain.
The gentle swoosh of the dishwasher could hardly be heard from the den.
No doubt, Wyn would sleep well. Here, there would be no child waking up in the middle of the night from a nightmare that she’d have to console because his parents were gone.
I went out onto the porch and slid into my shoes. The crunch of leaves under boots alerted me to Brooks’ arrival. He climbed up the porch steps and waited for me. When I stood, he took my hand and led me to the truck.
He opened the passenger door and helped me up. Before he could close the door, I reached out and gently cradled the back of his neck, my lips searching for his.
His mouth was warm and eager, and the ever-present hum of desire sounded between us.
I had to catch my breath when he pulled away.
He shut the door and then came around to the driver’s side.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
“For what?” he asked as he started the engine.
“For being you.” I smiled at him in the dark.
He didn’t reply as he backed out of the driveway. It wasn’t until we were off the private road, heading toward town that he spoke.
“What did you guys talk about?” he asked.
“You. Me. Her. Men,” I said.
He paused for a moment. “She’s sad. Really sad.”
“How do you know that?” I asked in shock.
“Watched her during dinner.” He shrugged. “She’s happy for her friends, but sad for herself. She wants what they have.”
“She’s afraid she’ll never get it,” I said. “She claims to want a relationship, a real one. She blames the apps.”
“Apps? What apps?”
“Dating apps. If you swipe right, it means you find the person attractive. If they swipe right on your picture, then you can chat with each other.”
“That sounds . . .”
“Superficial?”
“I was going to say clinical.”
“That’s exactly what it is. I don’t think it’s good for people to have endless options with the idea that there’s someone hotter a swipe away. What’s the incentive to really get to know someone?”
“There isn’t.”
“She’s not finding what she claims to be looking for. And if she stays in New York, she’ll blame the city, the apps, her job and the long hours. But nothing will really change for her.”
Brooks paused for a moment and then he asked, “Do you think she’s actually afraid?”
“Afraid? Afraid of what?”
“Of falling in love. Falling in love means you have to be completely vulnerable. It means you have to show someone the worst parts of yourself and pray they still love you. Most people can’t do that.”
“What? Be vulnerable?”
“That. And most people don’t love unconditionally. How do you build a life with someone on conditional love?”
“Shaky ground,” I admitted, mulling over his read on the situation. “You think Wyn is choosing her pain so she can say she’s doing everything in her power to go after what she wants, but it’s all a crock?”
“Maybe. I don’t know her that well. Only what you’ve chosen to share with me.”
I swallowed. “I told her that if a man couldn’t get into her heart, he had no business getting into her pants.”
“Wise words,” he murmured.
“I thought so,” I agreed. “But for the longest time, I didn’t realize that’s how it should go.”
“Of course you didn’t realize that. In this day and age? Hook-up culture drives everything. Tell me, are you better or worse off because I’m the only man you’ve been with?”
“Too soon to tell,” I quipped.
He reached over and squeezed my thigh. I covered his hand with mine.
“I think there’s a lot of advice coming from a lot of people who are very unhappy,” I said slowly. “And I think we forget that.”
“I agree. I hope she listens to you, Freckles.”
“Me too. But it’s up to Wyn, right?”