Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
WYATT
The sun is extra warm on the water, indicating that summer is most definitely here, and I’m torn. Summer was always my favorite season growing up, but now that I deal with an extra-difficult fire season during this time, especially residing and working in the California foothills, I dread it.
I don’t dread afternoons like this, though, out on my boat that I bought used off Old Man Perlman when I was twenty.
He was a neighbor of ours and had a bad fall that resulted in him fracturing his hip.
No longer able to live on his own anymore, his kids came in and cleaned out his place, selling everything they could, and I lucked out, getting this boat in pristine condition for an absolute deal.
Nate decided to tag along with us, and I thought it was a good idea to have Dottie spend extra time with her uncle. We’re a close family, and Dottie loves Nate, but she’s never stayed the night at his house before. This could be difficult.
God, I hope it’s not. I don’t want to get a call at one in the morning from my brother with Dottie wailing in the background, saying she needs her dad. I won’t be able to go get her. And I can’t have my brother bring her to the station either. That definitely wouldn’t go over well.
I’ve never let down my daughter, ever. When I say I’m going to do something, I keep my word.
It’s that way with anyone I’m dealing with, but especially my family.
The last thing I ever want to do is disappoint Dottie.
I don’t want to disappoint anyone. Serena accuses me of being a people pleaser, but is that such a bad thing?
Probably. Look where it got me with Cheryl. I bent over backward for that woman, and she still left us.
“We should head back in,” I tell Nate, who’s currently sitting in the seat across from mine, Dottie on his lap, her knees balanced on his thighs as she faces him.
She keeps demanding that he “make that funny face again” so she can laugh hysterically at him when he does.
He takes it all in stride, letting my little girl bat at his cheeks with her hands, yelling in his face, “You’re so funny, Uncle Nate! ” Over and over again.
She can be a little repetitive sometimes, my Dottie.
“Sounds like a plan.” Nate plucks the sunglasses Dottie’s wearing off her face and sets them on his, which, of course, she loves. Until she gets mad at him and demands he return them to her “right now,” direct quote.
“You’re a bossy little babe, aren’t you?” Nate sets the glasses back on her face, and she pushes them up her nose.
“I know what I like.” She says this matter-of-factly before she trots off, Nate sending me a puzzled look over Dottie’s head.
“Are all women programmed this way? They’re, like, born with this attitude?” Nate asks me, sounding perplexed.
“Oh, come on. I don’t understand why you’re scared of a six-year-old.” I’m teasing, but also . . . I’m not. Dottie does seem to set him on edge with some of the things she says.
“When she’s got attitude like this, yes.
” He watches her. She’s sitting in a seat on the bow of the boat, playing with her Barbies—who are all wearing swimsuits and ready for a lake day, she informed me before we left the house—and she can’t hear us.
At least, I hope she can’t. “Are you scared of Rachel?”
I go still, surprise coursing through me at his blunt question. “Scared of her? No.”
“You probably should be, don’t you think? You don’t even know her, Wyatt.”
“I realize that.” I keep my voice calm. No need to blow up at him. He’s just trying to be a good brother, maybe? By warning me about her? Huh. “And I’m getting to know her.”
“What makes her so special?”
I send him a look, confused.
“I’m not trying to be a prick. I just want to know what you see in her that makes you feel this way.”
“Feel what way?”
“Like you’re actually interested in her beyond something casual. You want to keep seeing her, and that’s not like you, Wyatt.”
I glance toward where Dottie is sitting, not paying us any mind as she plays with her dolls.
“I’m definitely attracted to her, that goes without saying.
I . . . well, I like her. I like talking to her.
I want to talk to her more. Learn things about her.
I’m not just—using her, you know? There’s more brewing between us, and I want to explore that. ”
Nate blows out a harsh breath, staring out over the water. “See, that’s where we’re different. That sort of thing scares me. I’d rather be by myself. No attachments, no strings. Sounds easier, you know?”
“Sounds lonely,” I murmur, and that’s part of my problem too. I’m starting to realize I don’t like doing this life thing without a partner. Not that I can’t do it, but it would be nice to find someone to share everything with.
Is Rachel that person? She’s young. Temporary. Meaning probably not, but I have to put myself out there sometime, and she’s the first woman to catch my interest.
“You’re right. Maybe I am the problem. Like Taylor Swift says in her song.” Nate shakes his head, looking disgusted with himself.
“I love Taylor Swift!” Dottie calls from her spot on the bow.
Nate swivels his head toward me, his gaze meeting mine. “Think Rachel knows Taylor? That’ll score you some mega points with your daughter.”
“I doubt it. Not like I’m going to ask.” It’s none of my business which celebrities Rachel might know.
Besides, I don’t want to look like that’s all I care about, because it’s not.
Though if she did actually know Taylor? Dottie would be beside herself.
She’s a little Swiftie who knows all the words to a lot of her songs.
My nieces are part of that Swiftie influence. They love her too.
“I asked Paige to help watch Dottie. She made the offer, so I thought I’d take her up on it,” I tell Nate.
“Seriously? Pulling her deeper into our realm, huh?” Nate shakes his head. “Why don’t you go for her? She’s perfect for you.”
“Get out of here. You don’t mean that.”
“You’re right. I don’t.” Nate sounds miserable. “I guess I’m too cautious.”
“Why is that?” I keep my eye on Dottie, who’s running back and forth between the bench seats at the front of the boat. She’s got a life jacket on, and she’s never fallen overboard, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t watch her. “Why are you so cautious?”
Our parents are still together and have a loving relationship. Our sister found a good guy in her husband, Jeff. We’re surrounded by healthy couples, and while our family does have its issues on occasion, I would never label us as toxic.
“It’s not like I’m blaming you or anything, but like I told you, I witnessed what happened between you and Cheryl. I saw all the drama unfold, and it was a lot.” Nate grimaces. “She scared the shit out of me.”
“If I let her scare me with all of her antics over the years, I would’ve become a total hermit. A monk,” I tell him.
“You were a hermit for years. You wouldn’t date anyone,” Nate points out.
Damn it, he’s right. “I had a lot on my plate. Work and a toddler. I didn’t have time to date. Except for Miranda, and that ended badly.” She was a girl I reconnected with, who couldn’t understand why I put Dottie over her.
“Right. I guess I was watching you and your relationships and told myself no way would I allow any woman to tie me down by getting pregnant with my baby.”
“Not all women do that,” I start, but he talks right over me.
“Some might. And I’d rather not risk it.
I’m not ready for anything serious. Not yet.
” He crosses his arms, his mind made up, and I don’t bother arguing with him.
Instead, I change the subject, and we keep things light while I steer the boat back toward Mitchell’s, where I keep it docked when I’m not using it.
Easier to pay the monthly fee than to keep my boat at my house and drive it in when I need it.
Besides, these docking spots are at a premium.
Supposedly, there’s a ten-year waitlist, which is wild to contemplate.
I slow down as we draw closer to the docks, and the guys who work there spot me, leaping to their feet and waiting at my empty slip.
Most of the boys have worked there for more than a few summers, and I remember when I did my turn at the docks.
Only for two summers, though, because after I graduated, I went straight into the fire academy and became a firefighter.
Nate escorts Dottie over to where I’m standing behind the wheel, and she settles into the seat across from me while he goes to the front of the boat.
Eventually, we’ve got the boat parked and tied down, and Nate whisks Dottie into his arms, settling her onto the dock to wait for us.
She looks extra cute in her pink-and-white polka-dot swimsuit, with a white terry-cloth skirt over it, her matching pink sunglasses covering her eyes.
She cares about how she looks, always putting together outfits and making sure they match.
She definitely didn’t get that from me, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s something she got from her mother.
An instinctual know-how that can’t be taught.
I’ve got my backpack slung over my shoulder, and Nate’s carrying the bag of garbage we accumulated over the afternoon, heading up the dock and toward the road, when Dottie asks, “Can we get ice cream?”
“Sure thing,” I answer quickly, ignoring my brother, who is no doubt grinning at me like a loon. And when I quickly glance to my right to check on him, he’s doing exactly that, smiling from ear to ear.
“Think she’s working today?” Nate asks, his voice low, his eyebrows wiggling.
If I could throw something at him, I would. “Probably.”
“At the ice cream counter?” He glances down at Dottie, who’s walking ahead of us with her head held high and her sunglasses still on. “I heard she survived and has gotten pretty good there.”
“Who told you that?”
“Paige.” He shrugs.
“I love Paige,” Dottie declares.
“So does your Uncle Nate,” I tell her.
My brother reaches right into the bag of garbage and tosses a crumpled napkin at my face. I catch it at the last second, throwing it back at him.
“Don’t tell her that.” Nate drops the napkin back into the bag. “She’ll probably say something to Paige about it.”
“I can keep a secret,” Dottie says, pausing to turn around and face us, sliding her sunglasses down so she can meet our gazes. With that look on her face, she’s currently giving six going on sixteen. “You like Paige?”
“She’s my friend,” Nate stresses. “That’s it.”
“Hmm.” Dottie shoves her glasses back onto her face and faces forward, marching her way up the stairs. “I want bubblegum ice cream.”
My brother and I share a look. My child doesn’t hold on to conversation topics for long, but she’s also been known to blurt out things that she probably shouldn’t say at inopportune moments.
“Not this time,” I tell her firmly. I don’t tell her no often, but she’s always pushing her luck with the ice cream requests. “Anything but that.”
“Daddy,” she wails, pausing at the top of the stairs for me to take her hand and escort her across the road to Mitchell’s Landing. “Nothing else is as good as bubblegum.”
“I’m a big fan of salted caramel,” Nate tells her, but she shakes her head.
“I want pink ice cream.”
“How about strawberry?” I suggest, but we get another headshake.
“It’s gross.”
“What, you don’t like fruit?” Nate asks her, and she wrinkles her nose.
“Not strawberries. They have seeds.”
I remember having a texture issue with eating particular things when I was a kid too. Guess she got that bad habit from me.
We enter Mitchell’s, the screen door slamming behind us and making the tiny bell above the door ring, announcing our arrival.
Not that anyone would notice. The line at the ice cream counter is long, snaking back and forth and stopping right at the door.
It’s mostly families and sunburned teenagers waiting to make their orders, and Nate lifts his head, trying to check out who’s working behind the counter.
“No Rachel in sight,” he says, and I fight the disappointment that wants to wash over me.
I was hoping for a chance to see her pretty face.
Stare into her eyes for a few minutes while making idle conversation.
I’ve been thinking about her all day. Hell, it started last night after Nate dropped her and Paige off at Paige’s place.
She’s been at the forefront of my mind ever since, though I have other things I should be thinking about and taking care of.
Like finding a babysitter for Dottie while my parents are on their cruise.
I texted Paige earlier, and she confirmed she could watch Dottie for me, but she said I should ask Rachel if she wanted to help too, giving me her number.
I’d love to ask her, but it feels kind of forward to go from having a one-night stand, telling her I like her, kissing her senseless, and then being like, Oh hey. Babysit my kid for me, will ya?
That’s probably too much.
We wait patiently in line—well, Nate and I are patient, while Dottie keeps hanging on my arm, asking when it’s our turn.
“The summer rush is here,” Nate murmurs at one point, and I nod my agreement. “I’ll be right back.” He starts to leave the line, but I call out to him.
“Take Dottie with you, please.” I squeeze her hand. “Go with your uncle, okay?”
“Will you be at the counter when we get back so I can get my ice cream?” She shoots her hopeful gaze up at me.
“I hope so.” I smile at her, and she smiles back before taking Nate’s hand and walking away.
I move through the line, glancing around the building every few minutes in the hope I’ll spot my daughter. Or Rachel. And when I finally do spot Nate and Dottie with Rachel, I can’t help it.
Jealousy rears its ugly head deep inside of me, making me clench my fists together as I watch Nate chat her up, gesturing with his hands, while Rachel laughs at whatever he just said.
She looks cute in a royal-blue Mitchell’s T-shirt and khaki shorts, her hair pulled into a high ponytail.
There is no need for me to feel jealous about my brother talking to the woman I like.
I need to get my shit together. She’s not mine.
Yet.