18. Sally
CHAPTER 18
Sally
ALL IN
Closing my bedroom door behind me, I crawl into my bed. There’s a new soreness between my legs.
Wyatt and his magic fingers. He knew just where to touch me. Just the right amount of pressure to apply. The way he teased me, dipping the blunt tip of his finger inside me before using the moisture he gathered to play with my clit?—
Even now, wrung out, an emotional wreck, I’m still hot all over at the memory of how it felt when that man had his hands on me.
I wish I could be cooler about this. I hate dwelling on one afternoon, one orgasm, one guy, like a lovesick teenager. It’s embarrassing.
But so much happened in that one afternoon. Wyatt keeps giving me glimpses of the man behind the mask he wears, and now I want more. I want to see all of him. Know all of him.
“Of course I trust you. I always have.”
“You saved my life.”
“You’re fuckin’ perfect, Sal.”
I can’t stop thinking about the things he said. The things he did. I’m brimming with feeling, and there’s nothing I can do to keep it from spilling over.
Burying my head in the pillow, I let the tears flow. It just…hurts.
I’m being greedy, wanting more . Wyatt’s already given me so much—all the attention and the patience I asked for. I need to be content with that.
I should be content with that, but I’m not, and the frustration it makes me feel—coupled with the confusion I feel about my future—only makes me cry harder.
Tap.
At first, I think I imagined the sound. Speaking of lovesick teenagers, for half a heartbeat I time-travel back to high school, when Wyatt would climb onto the roof of the front porch and rap his knuckle on my window. Together, we’d sneak out and hop in his truck, which he’d hidden a couple of hundred yards from the house behind a stand of gnarled oaks. Sometimes, we’d escape to the river, where we’d drink our Jack and Cokes and go swimming. Other times, we’d just drive, the music turned up loud as we crisscrossed Hart County, singing along to Mumford & Sons, Alan Jackson, Bon Iver.
God, how badly I wanted Wyatt to pull over and make a move on those drives. I was nursing a serious, unrequited crush on him back then—same as I am now—and as we drove, I’d fantasize about him reaching across the center console and putting a hand on my thigh. Just like he did the night he drove me home from the potluck.
Tap, tap.
I go still, holding my breath. Maybe I’m not imagining the sound.
Lifting my head off the pillow, I turn and see a dark silhouette in the window outlined against the fiery sunset that fills the sky.
Tap, tap, tap .
My stomach swoops. I’m pushing off the bed and quietly scurrying across my room before I know what I’m doing, careful to avoid the floorboard by my desk that squeaks when I step on it.
Wiping my eyes, I blink, still not sure what I’m seeing. At first, I think it’s just a shadow, a series of shapes put off by the dying light. But then suddenly—thrillingly—the shapes come together to form a whole.
Oh my God, it’s a cowboy .
It’s my cowboy, and I’m so fucking happy he’s here that I want to yell.
He’s crouching on the roof, knees bent, heels up. He’s wearing his cowboy hat, because Wyatt is always wearing his cowboy hat. His hand is raised, first finger bent against the glass.
Even his outline is handsome. Because that’s all I can see with the sun behind him like this—the broad expanse of his shoulders, the slant of his wide neck, the thick curve of a bent knee.
He gives me a little wave when he sees me approach. I can’t breathe.
My pulse is wild as I unlatch the window and pull it open, a gust of cold air greeting me. Without the glare of the glass between us, I can finally see his eyes.
They’re bright. Full.
The concern in them is crystal clear as they rake over my face. “I knew you were upset. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He keeps his voice low.
So do I when I say, “Why are you here?”
“Can I come in?”
“I’m okay.”
“Quit lyin’.”
I wrap my hand around his forearm. “Of course you can come in. Think you can fit through the window? ”
“I’m not that much bigger than I was in high school,” he says as I help him through the window.
He is though. His shoulders barely clear the window frame, and when he straightens to his full height, he looks like a giant in my low-ceilinged bedroom.
When was the last time he was in here? Ten years ago? More than that?
More cold air rushes in behind him. He smells minty, like the wintergreen gum he definitely chewed on the way over here. He closes the window, then turns back to me. I watch through a film of tears as he takes my face in his hands and thumbs them away.
“I came because I had a feeling something was up with you,” he whispers. “I came because I shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. I ain’t gonna be the reason you’re cryin’ alone in your room. That stops tonight—you hear me? I wanna take care of you, Sal, but I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me. Did I hurt you? Are you sore, or…”
I can’t find words. Or air. My blood thrums inside my skin, my pulse marking a frantic, uneven beat.
Now. Now. Now.
Wyatt is showing his hand. Offering another glimpse behind the mask.
It’s time to show my cards. To admit that I lied when I told him I only wanted sex. I’m too in love with him not to be totally, completely honest.
“I’m not hurt, no.”
“Okay…”
“I know I asked you for transcendence,” I begin, and Wyatt laughs quietly. “Like, transcendence in the sexual sense. Sex—that’s all I asked for. And I genuinely thought I’d be okay with just that. But today—tonight—don’t get me wrong, Wy, it was great. Best I’ve ever had. Somehow though”—I shake my head—“it didn’t feel like enough. And I should’ve said something, but I was terrified of making a fool of myself or, you know, scaring you off by being that girl. The one who wants to date after hooking up once.”
“Twice.” A muscle in his jaw tics. “We been together twice now. And you ever scare me off before?”
“Well, no, but?—”
“This isn’t any different.” His gaze searches mine. His thumb finds my lips. “What’re we doing here, Sally?”
My heart somersaults at the pleading edge in his tone.
“I don’t know.” I’m so nervous I feel like I’m about to pass out. But I press on, because I’m sick of feeling so mixed up. Sick of feeling like I’ve lied by not telling the whole truth. My whole truth. “All I do know is that I’m so happy you’re here. I want you to stay. I want to be around you all the time. I want you to be my guy. Not just the guy I have a good time with. But the guy I call, and confide in, and come home to. You’re my favorite human, Wy.” I sniffle. “No one else even comes clo?—”
He cuts me off with a hot, hard, searing kiss, tossing his hat aside as his mouth moves over mine.
I close my eyes, tears leaking out of them left and right. I let him open my mouth with his tongue, his lips. His heat.
This means yes, right? This means that Wyatt wants more too?
Holy shit, I can’t believe Wyatt wants what I want.
I can’t believe he’s not running.
Actually, I do believe it. After everything he’s said to me, the things he’s confided, the things we’ve done, I do believe Wyatt is the kind of man who stays.
This is what a healthy relationship feels like . I’m allowed to be myself, and I’m getting what I want because I’m free to just…be.
I’m free, and I’m wild.
I fall into him, fisting my hands in the denim shirt that peeks through his vest. Relief pours through me, a steady, potent warmth that is such a shock to my system after the nerves and the confusion I’ve felt since leaving the ranch that I get dizzy.
I hold on to Wyatt for dear life until we’re both gasping for air, my lips throbbing, my body tight.
“I’ll be your guy.” He nudges my nose with his. “If you’ll be my girl. I want so much more than just sex, Sally. I was full of shit when I said that, and I’m sorry.”
An effervescent rush fills my rib cage, like champagne is being poured into my veins. In reply, I yank him toward my bed, and together we tumble awkwardly onto the mattress. Biting back a laugh, I freeze when the bed frame groans beneath our combined weight.
“Sally?” Dad’s voice sounds from downstairs. “That you? Everything all right?”
“I’m fine!” I shout back. “Sorry, just got in bed to read!”
“Okay. Dinner’ll be ready soon.”
“Okay!”
Wyatt rolls onto his side and bends his elbow, leaning his head against his hand. “We do this, we’re gonna do it right. No more sneaking around. I wanna tell your parents.”
I’m on my side now, facing him. My bed is so tiny that we barely fit. “Tell them we’re dating?”
“Yes.” His gaze is piercing in its clarity. “I respect the hell out of your mom and dad, and telling them we’re together is the right thing to do.”
“Okay. Yeah.” I finger the top button of his shirt. “I think that’s a good idea.”
I press the button through its hole, but Wyatt catches my wrist. His grip is like iron.
“Nuh-uh. You want me to fuck you in this cute little bed?” He pins my wrist to the mattress and rolls on top of me, running his nose up my throat. “Then I’ll fuck you in this cute little bed. But first, we come clean to your mama and daddy. Last thing I need is John B catching us and putting a rifle in my face ’cause he thinks I’m just messin’ around with you. ”
I scoff. “Dad wouldn’t put a rifle in your face.”
“Let’s play it safe, yeah?”
“Fine.”
“I also wanna take you on a proper date before we…”
I grin. “Go all the way?”
His eyes dance. “You make it sound like I’m taking your virginity.”
“If only you had.”
“I wasn’t ready for you then. I woulda fucked it up.”
“Really? I don’t know if I agree with that.”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “It’s what I gotta tell myself, Sal.”
My pulse skips. There’s a confession in there—something he’s trying to say—and while I’m ravenously curious to know what it is, I also feel the need to be gentle. Patient. There’s so much happening right now as it is.
So I make a mental note to circle back to his thought and run my finger along his jaw, determined to stick to what’s necessary in this conversation.
What’s necessary is a discussion about the future.
“And we’re not fucking it up now? I mean, do we talk about the fact that I’m leaving or…”
His jaw tics again against my fingertip. “I don’t know what the right call is, Sunshine. I think we just gotta be brave and keep talkin’ to each other. I think we live in the moment. Enjoy the time we got. And then we see what happens. Obviously, timin’ is not ideal, but is it ever? All I can promise is that I’ll do my best to make the most of every second I get with you, whether that’s a month, a year, whatever.”
A year.
Wyatt is talking about being together for a year .
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip, just to make sure I’m actually here and this is actually happening.
Of course my mind leaps twenty steps ahead. Would Wyatt come to New York with me? Is it right to even ask him to? His entire family is in Hartsville. He has deep roots here. And he absolutely loves what he does.
As far as I know, there are no cattle ranches in upstate New York. Even if there were, no cowboys could ever match the Rivers boys for skill, dedication, and heart.
What about little Ella? Wyatt and his brothers are extremely close with her. And they’re just beginning to revamp the Rivers’ side of Lucky River Ranch. I know Cash and Wyatt have had those plans in the works for years, and now they can finally afford to make their dreams come true for their family’s property.
Is there any way I could stay in Texas then?
Just the thought makes my heart dip, but not in an altogether-unpleasant way. I could be happy here. I am happy here.
Would I be wasting my potential, though, giving up a position at one of the world’s top veterinary hospitals to stay in a small town? There’s plenty of work for me here in Hartsville. But could I do what Dad does for the rest of my life and be satisfied? What if I got bored?
Worse, what if I got resentful?
“Hey.” Wyatt leans his forehead against mine. “Where you at?”
Closing my eyes, I swallow. “I’m really happy, Wy. Truly. I’m thrilled you and I want the same thing. Only I’m not very good at trusting that shit will just…work out.”
“Trust is all we got now, Sunshine.”
“I know. I’ll try, Wyatt.”
He presses his lips to mine, a soft, quick kiss. “Let’s try together.”