27. Wyatt
CHAPTER 27
Wyatt
THESE HAPPY GOLDEN YEARS
“Wait, wait. Did you just say you’re roasting a chicken ?” Sally stares at me in disbelief from the threshold. She’s still in her jacket and boots, and she’s carrying a brown paper bag in her hand.
“I cook now, remember?” Smiling, I drop down to a squat and peer inside the oven. “Smells fuckin’ good.”
“Smells amazing. But you know Mom is?—”
“Making dinner at the New House. I know. But I wanted you to myself tonight, so thought I’d do something here.”
Sally blinks. Her face is flushed from the cold. “I love this idea.”
“Thought you might. Go get comfortable.” I nod in the direction of our bedroom. Yes, now that Sally’s shit is in my drawers and she has a favorite side of the bed, it’s our room. Not quite sure how to break it to her, but we’ll get there. “I’ll open the wine. I think there’s a new episode of Forensic Files out.”
She smiles. My heart leaps. My sweet girl has a bit of an obsession with gruesome true-crime shows, and I love getting to watch them with her every night.
“Great. I’ll be right back. ”
“No rush, Sunshine.”
“Thank you, handsome. This is”—she swallows—“such a nice surprise.”
What I don’t tell Sally? That I’m making Ina Garten’s famous “engagement chicken,” which apparently was the meal Emily Blunt and John Krasinski shared before he proposed to her.
Am I trying to manifest that shit? Maybe.
Do I want to ask Sally to marry me? Absolutely. I know she’s leaving, but we’ll figure that out later.
Who the fuck am I , I wonder as I open the wine, and what good deed did I do in a past life to deserve a life like this?
True to my word, I picked Sally up first thing in the morning after I visited her that night at her parents’ house. She’s been at my place ever since—a week and a half now. Every minute we’re not working, we’re together, often naked and sometimes sleeping.
We’ve settled into a nice, if exhausting, little routine. We wake up early—sleepy morning sex with Sally is my favorite—and then we’re usually out the door by four thirty. We grab breakfast with our families at the New House. Then we kiss and go our separate ways. With calving season coming up, we’ve both been busy.
Sometimes, we’ll cross paths during the day. A few days back, she was in the kitchen, helping Patsy prep dinner, so I snuck away from the herd and helped them prep too. Yesterday, Sally and John B were on Lucky River Ranch, helping Cash examine a pair of quarter horses he’d recently purchased, so I got to hang out with her in the barn and at lunch.
For the most part, though, we only see each other at the end of the day. I rush home. Sometimes, Sally is there; sometimes, she’s still out. When she’s home, we’ll hop in the shower together. When she’s not, I’ll clean up on my own and try to keep my dick in check while I wait for her .
During the week, we’ll have dinner at the New House with our families. I wouldn’t say things are great between John B, Cash, and me, but they’re getting better. I think now that everyone sees I mean business—I’m dating Sally out in the open, and I’m looking after her, treating her right—they’re coming around.
They know I’m treating her right because the woman hasn’t stopped smiling since the first night she slept at my place. Neither have I.
The timer on my phone chimes. I turn off the rice and give it a stir, then check on the green beans in the pot beside it.
I’m filling the wineglasses with some Oregon Pinot Noir—another Mollie Luck selection—when arms wrap around my middle.
“Hi.” Sally leans her head against my back and pulls me to her. She takes a deep inhale.
“Hi.” I smile, glancing over my shoulder. “Are you smelling me?”
“I am. You smell delicious. How was your day?”
“Better now. You?”
“It was awesome. I successfully fixed a broken femur this morning, and then I got to ride on horseback with the Hanovers’ herd during lunch. It was a pretty great day.”
I turn around and hand her a wineglass, then hold up my free hand. “Hell yeah, it was great. Proud of you, Sunshine.”
She gives me the high five I’m looking for. But instead of letting her arm fall, she grabs my hand and twines our fingers, going up on her tiptoes to kiss me. “I have something for you.”
“Oh, yeah?” I hook a finger in the waistband of her sweats, smiling like an idiot.
I love this woman’s hunger. She’s voracious for experience, for food and sex and sleep, and I’m more than a little thrilled to be the one indulging her.
She bites her lip. “Well, you’re gonna get that too. But I got you a present.” Turning around, she grabs the big paper bag she brought in earlier and holds it out to me, eyes glittering with excitement. “Hope you like it.”
I blink. When was the last time I received an actual gift? For my birthday, Patsy will always make my favorite Texas sheet cake, and my brothers will take me out to The Rattler to get hammered. Every so often, Ella will give me the little arts-and-crafts projects she does at school. As a matter of fact, the tie-dye butterfly she made out of a coffee filter and a clothespin still hangs on my fridge.
I can’t remember, though, when someone actually bought me something.
Setting my wine on the counter, I take the bag. I see there’s a rectangular box inside wrapped in cowboy-boot-print paper.
“Cute,” I say, removing the box from the bag. It’s heavy.
Sally leans a hip into the counter. “I can’t take credit for the wrapping. They did it at the store.”
My heart dips. “Which store?”
“That adorable little bookstore in Lubbock. Drove out there today after lunch because only the best will do for Wyatt Rivers.”
She’s throwing my line back at me—the one I made about the fancy cowboy hat I bought for the potluck because I wanted to look good for her—and I love her cleverness, the way she cares, so damn much that I can hardly breathe around the happy swelling inside my chest.
“You didn’t have to.” My voice is husky.
“I wanted to.” Sally nods at the package. “Open it.”
I try to keep my hands from shaking too much as I carefully insert my finger underneath the seam of the wrapping paper and pull up the tape.
Sally chuckles. “You can tear the paper.”
I don’t want to tear the paper. I want to fold it up. Keep it forever, a memory of this moment .
The paper falls away, revealing a box set of all the Little House on the Prairie books.
I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or holler with delight.
My throat closes in.
They’re just fucking books .
But when I glance up at Sally, it’s clear we both know they’re so much more than that.
“Since you and your mom enjoyed these stories so much, I thought you and I could revisit them,” Sally says, and I notice her eyes get a little misty too. “Could be a cute way of keeping her memory alive?”
Her thoughtfulness.
Her insistence that I don’t bottle shit up or sweep my grief under the rug.
Her bravery, confronting things that aren’t easy to face.
I’m speechless.
Me, the guy who has a line for everything. The guy who can’t help but crack a joke, deliver a verbal blow, tease the hell out of whoever I’m talking to.
I’m so fucking in love with this girl that I literally can’t speak. For a split second, I worry I’m having a heart attack.
Please, God, don’t let me die just when shit’s getting good.
But you know what? My heart keeps beating. My lungs keep filling with air. My blood keeps pumping, making me feel more alive than I ever have.
More scared, yes. But I’m still standing, aren’t I? Talking about Mom, revisiting my past—well, it hasn’t killed me yet.
Holy shit, I’m actually okay.
“Thank you,” I manage.
Sally sets down her wine and gently takes the box set from my hands. “You’re welcome. Do we start chronologically?” She unwraps the plastic from the books. “Or do we dive right into your favorite? I do love Little House in the Big Woods , but Farmer Boy is, well, you. For us though, maybe These Happy Golden Years is the best way to go? I don’t remember there being explicit sex in it, but we can make some up to add some literal and figurative spice? Jesus, listen to me. You’ve turned me into an absolute perv.”
“Sally—”
“I know, I know. Not like you mind. I don’t either, if I’m being honest.” She surveys the books, running her fingertips over the spines. They’re gingham, the color of Easter eggs—pastel blue, powder pink, violet. “They’re so pretty, aren’t they?”
“Sally—”
She looks up, drawing her brows together when she takes in my expression. “Shit, this is too cheesy, isn’t it?” Her cheeks flush. “Or does it hit too close to home? I’m sorry. I was hoping it might make you feel better?—”
“ Sally —”
“Wyatt, really, it’s okay?—”
But she can’t finish that thought because I’m grabbing her, one hand on her hip, the other sliding onto her face. Guiding her chin up, I lean down and angle my mouth so her top lip rests in the divot between my own. She closes her eyes.
I lick into her mouth, tasting my—her—toothpaste. We’ve used the same kind forever. But now we’re using the same tube.
Weird I find that romantic?
I finally break the kiss, desperate for air, and rest my forehead on hers.
“So you don’t hate the books then,” she says thickly. Joyfully.
I scoff, my breath rustling the dark brown hair that falls into her face. “I fuckin’ love ’em, Sally. Almost as much as I love you.”
Her eyelashes flutter against my cheeks as her eyes fly open. I meet her gaze. This close, I can see the flecks of auburn in her irises that make them look like they’re on fire.
My heart thunders, but somehow I’m able to keep my voice even when I say, “Don’t act so surprised, Sunshine. I’m in love with you. Been in love with you for a long, long time.”
She opens her mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. “Really?”
The genuine surprise in her voice makes my chest cramp.
“Really. I realized it that day at the river right after my parents died, but I think I’d fallen for you way before then.”
“My God.” Her eyes well with tears. “Your tattoo…oh my God , Wyatt. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I lift a shoulder, like I haven’t been agonizing over that question for years. Decades. “You had so much to do. So many things to accomplish. You’ve always aimed so high, and I wasn’t gonna stand in your way.”
She fists her hand in my shirt. “Don’t make me quote the corniest-slash-best love song ever written.”
“What’s that?”
Sally searches my eyes with an urgency that makes my pulse hiccup. “Ever consider you could never ever hold me back, even if you tried? You’re not a roadblock, Wyatt. You’re the wind beneath my fucking wings.”
I erupt in a roar of loud, relieved laughter. “That’s a great song.”
“It’s the best song. But I want you to know—I need you to understand”—she gives my shirt an angry pull—“I was in love with you too. Have been since…forever really.”
My eyes burn. My body trembles, my gut a swirl of anger, sadness, relief. “We messed that one up, didn’t we?”
She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut as her tears overflow. “You give me confidence. You make me laugh. You listen. You’re always there for me, Wyatt.” She opens her eyes. “All while you’ve been dealing with some heavy shit.”
I swallow. “I thought you’d just leave again.”
“What if I’m done leaving?”
My stomach plummets. We’re finally talking about this.
Finally .
“I can’t ask you to stay. ”
“I don’t need you to.”
“Sally.” Frustration grips me by the throat. “You have to go to New York. You made so many promises to yourself. I won’t let you break them. And I promised your daddy?—”
“That you wouldn’t keep me here.” Sally scoffs. “Of course my dad made that insanely inappropriate ask of you. I’m sorry.”
“He’s right.”
“He’s not though!”
My pulse seizes at her sudden outburst. I don’t know what to do or say, so I just cup her face in my hands and thumb away her tears as she speaks.
“He’s not right,” she says, a little calmer. “I just—I can’t leave you, Wyatt. I won’t.”
“What if I come with you?”
Her eyes bulge. Everything inside me heaves. Maybe she was ready to hear that I loved her, but she’s not ready to hear I’d drop everything—my family, my job, my plans for the future—to be with her.
But then a small smile breaks out on her face. “You’d do that?”
“Stupid question.”
“That’s…wow. One hell of a gesture.”
“I’m one hell of a boyfriend.”
“Ha.”
“All you need to do is ask, Sunshine. I’d say yes in a heartbeat.”
I wait for her to ask as she studies my face, smile fading. I can see her wheels turning, the little divots between her brows a dead giveaway that she’s deep in thought.
At last, she says, “But you have to stay, Wyatt. You belong here.”
“Not if you’re somewhere else.”
Her eyes go soft. “I want to stay, Wyatt.”
My heart riots. I want that too. So bad that it hurts. But she has to go back to Ithaca. I won’t let her give up the job she’s worked her whole life for.
I won’t be the reason she lives a small life in a small town when she could make a big difference somewhere else.
I choose my words carefully. “I’ll figure something out, okay?”
She twines our fingers. “ We’ll figure it out. Now that we’re finally on the same team, let’s not fuck it up.”
But later, when we’re making love in the dark, I find myself wondering how I can already miss her when she isn’t even gone yet. Because Sally is leaving. She has to.
I just have to figure out a way to convince her to let me come with her.