42. Wyatt
Chapter 42
Wyatt
A s much as I know Ivy wants to, we can’t avoid heading back to the cabin forever. Believe me, if I thought we could hole up out here stuffing her full of waffles and our cocks and pretending the outside world didn’t exist, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
So, back we go.
“So, City Girl,” Holt says, nudging her shoulder. “You gonna make us guess baby names, or are you going with something real Hollywood like Apple or...Kale?”
Her lips twitch, and I jump in. “Kale Walker-Hart. Sounds like he’d be a linebacker.”
“Or a salad,” Holt says.
That does it. She smiles, dimples and all, and my heart does a little flip. I’m a goner.
“Maybe we should focus on who the father is before we start naming them,” she says, but there’s a softness to her voice.
I sling an arm around her. “Nah. We decided we don’t care about that part, remember?”
“Just gonna share everything,” Holt says, his eyes meeting mine over her head. “Like we always have.”
Ivy sighs, but it’s more content than worried. “You two are something else.”
“Something great, you mean.”
When we pull up, the cabin’s dark. Hank’s truck is parked out front, and I feel a knot in my stomach. We haven’t talked to him since that brief conversation last night. I know he’s not gonna be thrilled with the news of Ivy’s return. But maybe he’s cooled off by now.
Ivy’s smile fades, and she hugs her coat tighter. “Maybe I should wait outside.”
I shake my head. “No way. We’re in this together, remember?”
Holt grabs her hand. “Yeah, CG. We’re not letting you out of our sight.”
The smell of sweat and alcohol punches me in the face the second I open the door. Hank’s slumped in the armchair by the fire, a half-empty bottle dangling from his fingers.
“‘Bout time you three showed up,” he slurs, voice rougher than usual. “Where the hell you been?”
I glance at Holt, who stiffens beside me. Ivy doesn’t say a damn thing. Doesn’t even look at Hank. She just exhales through her nose, adjusts her coat, and heads straight for the bedroom like he doesn’t exist.
Hank watches her go, jaw ticking. “That’s it? No explanation? No?—”
I cut him off. “What do you wanna hear, Hank? That we ran off to Vegas and got hitched? That we spent the night braiding each other’s hair and sharing our feelings?” I snort. “You didn’t wanna see her, so we gave you space. Now we’re back.”
He shifts, sitting up straighter. “Damn right, I didn’t wanna see her.” His eyes flick toward the bedroom door before landing on me again.
Hank looks at him, then at me, a desperation in his expression. “You’re really gonna choose her over?—”
Holt grabs Ivy’s suitcases and follows her down the hall, leaving me alone with the drunk, brooding mountain man. Hank’s shoulders slump, and he sinks back into the chair, looking defeated. Part of me wants to go after Ivy, to make sure she’s okay, but I know this needs to happen first.
I sigh, scrubbing a hand down my face. “You’re a damn idiot, you know that?”
Hank just lifts the bottle to his lips and takes another long pull. I’ve never seen him like this. Hank’s the steady one, the rock. Seeing him unravel is like watching the ground crumble beneath your feet. I want to shake some sense into him, but I know that’s not how this works.
“We need to talk,” I say, and Hank finally looks at me. His eyes are bloodshot, and he’s got that wounded animal look about him.
He takes another swig, and I wait. I’ve known Hank long enough to know he won’t respond until he’s good and ready. But I’ve also known him long enough to know he’s dead wrong about this.
“She’s not your ex,” I say, and he flinches like I’ve hit him. “You can’t treat her like she is.”
He glares at the table, jaw tight. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I?” I lean forward, and he finally looks at me again. “I know you’ve been sitting here stewing for hours. I know you’re pissed because you think we left you for her. And I know you’re scared she’s gonna do what the other one did.”
“She left.”
I feel the anger rising, but I force it down. “Because you ran her off. What exactly did you expect, Hank? We gave her time to figure things out. And you know what? She did. She wants to be here. With us.”
He shakes his head, and I can see the doubt eating away at him. “I don’t believe that.”
“Well, I do,” I say, standing up. “And so does Holt. We’re not giving up on her, Hank. We’re not giving her up.”
He’s silent, and it pisses me off more than anything he could say. “You’re gonna throw this away because you’re scared?” I demand. “Because you think she’s gonna run off like your ex did?”
He doesn’t answer, and I feel my patience snapping. “Fine,” I say, voice hard. “Then here’s how it’s gonna be. Holt and I have talked. We’re not going anywhere. We’re sticking with Ivy, and we don’t care who the biological father is. We’re gonna do what we’ve always done. We’re gonna share.”
His eyes flicker, but he doesn’t speak.
“You can either pull your head out of your ass, apologize, and hope like hell she forgives you, or we’re gonna find our own place. You’ll be here alone. Just you and your cats.”
Hank’s face is like stone, and I can’t tell if he’s processing or if he’s just too damn stubborn to listen. Either way, I’m done. I’ve said what I needed to say.
I turn and leave him there, drowning in his whiskey and his pride. I’m disgusted, yeah. But also sad. Sad that he’s letting this happen. Stubborn mule can’t see what’s right in front of him.
I head to Ivy’s room, where Holt is helping her unpack. The door’s open, and I stand there for a second, watching them. They’re quieter than usual, and I know they’ve been talking about Hank. Holt’s not the type to keep his mouth shut, and I’m sure he’s told her everything.
I knock on the doorframe, and Ivy looks up. Her eyes are wide and a little scared, but there’s a warmth in them that makes me feel like I’ve done the right thing. “Hey,” I say, stepping inside. “Need a hand?”
Holt gives me a look, like he’s assessing my mood. He must like what he sees because he grins and tosses me a pile of clothes. “Took you long enough,” he says, but there’s no heat in it.
“Had to try to talk some sense into him,” I say, folding a shirt and putting it in the drawer.
Ivy’s watching me, and I can tell she’s waiting for more. She’s waiting to see if Hank got to me. “How’d that go?” she asks, careful-like.
I shrug, trying to keep it light. “He’s being a stubborn ass. Nothing new there.”
She bites her lip, and I see the worry lines on her forehead. “Maybe I should talk to him.”
“No,” I say, more forcefully than I intend. “You’ve done enough. It’s on him now.”
Holt nods, backing me up. “He’ll come around, CG. How can he not?”
Ivy doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it drop. We work in silence for a while. I don’t know what Hank’s gonna do, but I know one thing for sure. We’re gonna make this work. No matter what.
When we’ve got her room back to rights, we get ready for bed. I strip down to my boxers and tug on a worn thermal, watching as Ivy pulls on one of Holt’s flannels over her sleep shorts. It drowns her, the sleeves hanging past her hands.
Holt just strips down and flops onto the bed, stretching like a damn cat. You takin’ forever on purpose, or you need me to tuck you in, Wyatt?”
I roll my eyes but climb in on Ivy’s other side, settling in as she scoots between us. She’s quiet, lost in thought, but when I sling an arm around her waist, she melts into me.
Holt nudges her temple with his nose. “Stop thinkin’, CG. Just sleep.”
She exhales slow, her body relaxing fully for the first time all damn day. Within seconds, her breathing evens out, and she’s gone—tucked between us where she belongs.
Holt catches my eye over the top of her head, his expression softer than usual. I know we’re both thinking the same thing. No matter what Hank does, no matter what comes next, we’re not going anywhere.
I press a kiss to the top of Ivy’s head, let out a deep breath, and finally let myself close my eyes.