Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
LOLA
Violet is having some kind of crisis, and she's sent me in through the back door of the main ranch house to find cleaning products and a mop. And oh my God.
I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life.
The cobbled stone walls. The vast amounts of wood. The paintings. Leather furniture that looks like it costs more than my entire apartment back in New York. It's classy yet homely all at once. The kind of house that makes you feel like you're trespassing just by breathing in it.
As I sneak through the living room, I stop when I hear what sounds like someone crying behind one of the doors.
I pause. Take a step closer. My hand rests on the handle.
"Hello?" I call out gently.
It sounds like a kid sniffling. They don't reply, so I slowly open the door. And find a little boy sitting in the middle of his playroom, surrounded by birthday presents. In front of him is a bag of unopened ones.
"You okay, buddy?" I ask, stepping in and closing the door behind me.
He nods but doesn't speak, so I tiptoe closer. "Oh, are you Wyatt?" I say as I approach him.
Violet gave me the run down before we arrived. The birthday boy is Wyatt, he’s six. And his Uncle Ace is the guy who organized this for him.
"Yes," he sniffles.
I smile as I take a seat on the floor beside him. "Did you forget to open some birthday presents? Or saving the best for later, huh?" I ask.
"T-these are from my mom." He looks at me with red eyes, and my heart leaps out of my chest. My brain might be messing with me, but this kid is the spitting image of Hunter. Same sharp jaw, just softer. Same blue eyes. Same stubbornness sitting behind them, even at six years old.
I nod. "Oh, that's cool. Is she here?" I ask, trying to keep my voice light.
He shakes his head. "No."
A beat of silence.
"Mommy never sees me. I don't think she likes me much."
That breaks my damn heart. No kid should feel like that. Ever. Something twists deep in my chest, and I have to swallow hard before I speak.
"I'm sorry, Wyatt," I tell him.
I truly don't know what else to say. There are no right words for a six-year-old boy who thinks his mother doesn't love him. "Adults are strange sometimes, buddy. They do things no one understands. But it looks like you have a lot of people who really love you here. Hey?"
He nods, placing the present down, and this time he really looks at me. Wide eyes. Curious. Like he's deciding whether or not I'm safe. "My daddy is the best. Like. The best. He even got me a pet goat, and he hates it."
I can't help but laugh. "Is the goat naughty?" I ask.
"Yep. Not with me, but to my dad. Headbutts him and everything," he tells me with a proud grin.
Ah. Now the goat birthday cake I saw being carried in makes sense. "What's his name?"
"Gary," he says with a big grin.
My heart melts. "Cool name. Gary the goat. Very good choice."
"Would you like to come and meet him?" he asks, jumping to his feet.
I open my mouth. Shit. Violet needs the mop.
"I'd love to. But can you first show me where I can find a mop? I'm helping my friend with the food for your party, and there's been a spillage."
He giggles. "Oh no. Did you do it?"
"Not me. I'm just cleaning up the mess," I joke, standing back up.
"It's okay. Dad won't shout at you."
That makes me pause. Something cold prickles at the back of my neck. A thought I should have had the second I walked through the front door of this house.
"What is your daddy's name?" I ask him.
And the blood drains from my body when a man clears his throat behind me at the door.
I freeze.
It's him. I know it's him. Because my body is on fire before I even turn around. The same way it was at the bar. The same way it was in that truck. The same way it's been every single night since, when I'm lying in the dark and can still feel his hands on me.
My stomach is fluttering. My heart is racing. Every nerve ending I have is screaming his name.
"Hey! You get to meet my dad and Gary now," Wyatt tells me excitedly.
I know exactly who Wyatt’s daddy is. He’s the same man I’ve been daydreaming about all week. Wyatt’s daddy is the cowboy that called me a good girl and I never recovered from that.