CHAPTER SEVEN
WYATT
Before Kennedy, I planned on re-enlisting.
Now there's someone waiting for me outside of the army, or I hope that's the case. It's taken me a few weeks to get everything sorted, but I'm officially free of my military obligations and driving across the bridge welcoming me to Suitor’s Crossing.
Kennedy isn't expecting me, and a frisson of worry seeps into my mind.
We've exchanged letters and text messages for months, so it's not like we're strangers anymore, but there's still a level of anonymity between us—one I’ll be demolishing with this visit.
Is this too soon?
Will I scare Kennedy away by visiting without warning?
Questioning the wisdom of my plan, I park along a gravel road where other trucks and sedans are. Kennedy texted earlier about how eager she was to help her friends set up Holiday Lane, a light tour through the forest for town residents and visitors alike.
I figured meeting her in front of a crowd of trusted friends might be better than appearing at her doorstep, so that's why I asked the gas station attendant on my way into town where Holiday Lane was located and made my way here.
People eye my rental suspiciously, and as soon as I exit the SUV, a large man approaches.
“Everything okay? Are you having car trouble?”
“Not exactly. I'm here to see Kennedy.”
The man's brows raise to his hairline as he jerks to a stop. “Kennedy Caldwell?”
“Yeah, this is kind of a surprise.” I shrug but stand tall. I'm here for my girl. Determined to meet the woman I've been falling for since her first letter.
“Okay…” he drawls, his eyes narrowing. “Follow me.”
We pass the group watching us curiously, until we run into three women stringing lights between painted PVC pipes.
“Kennedy, you have a visitor.”
“What?” The brunette in a knitted beanie glances up from detangling a bundle of lights, and my breath seizes in my lungs.
Damn, she's gorgeous.
We never exchanged photos of ourselves, despite adding text messages to our correspondence. I might have been desperate to put a face to the humorous anecdotes and sweetly sincere insights Kennedy wrote, but I didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, so I kept the desire to myself.
Stepping forward, I wave her letters in the air—they’re my insurance that I am who I say I am.
“It’s me. Wyatt. You said I should visit Suitor’s Crossing, and Christmas seemed as good a time as any.” I inject as much lightheartedness as I can muster while I wait for her response.
Maybe I should have inserted myself into Dugan’s holiday plans and returned home with him. He has leave this year, and it would have been easy enough to drop a few hints here and there to garner an invite.
Except I didn’t want to rely on Dugan.
Especially when I’m not one hundred percent sure of where he and Kennedy stand. She continued to send him letters, though they became infrequent compared to mine.
“Wyatt? Oh my god!” Kennedy rushes forward and throws her arms around me in a hug full of warmth and the sugary scent of her shampoo, before she quickly retreats. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to attack you.” A blush deepens the red of her already rosy cheeks.
“Don’t apologize.” My voice drops lower, so our conversation remains private. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been hugged, and there’s a backlog I’d be happy to give you.”
Truthfully, hugs have never been my thing. Physical affection in general has been few and far between, so if I’m a bit touch-starved, Kennedy is the woman I want to remedy the problem.
Maybe this wasn't such a terrible idea, after all.