Chapter 41
Bryn
Wyatt grabs onto my forearm, pointing with his other hand. “Look! Look! What is that?”
“Oh my gosh,” I burst out, spotting what he’s seeing. Quickly, I twist on the bench seat we claimed in the back of the white boat, named “Starla”, to call to the captain at the wheel inside the small cabin, “We’ve got sea otters back here!”
I know he hears me when he shouts to the rest of the patrons on the boat, most of whom are riding up front.
The tour isn’t busy at all, maybe twelve of us in total, which doesn’t surprise me for an October weekday; the tourists have left and school is back in session.
It makes the experience more intimate when there isn’t a huge swarm of people running from stern to bow every time something is spotted.
There are two otters that went from playing with each other to swimming after us in our wake, following the boat like they’re chasing after the man enthralled with them.
I don’t blame them. Wyatt has laid that excited look on me more than once in the time I’ve known him, and it never ceases to make me feel weak in the knees, even when I’ve told the feeling to screw off.
“Where’d they go?” he says, scooting forward on the bench when they disappear beneath the water. Like a little kid, he calls out, “Come back! Come back, little otters!”
It has me giggling, and rather than watch the calm water, I watch him, the look of anticipation he wears as his eyes scan over the dark blue, hoping with every fiber of his being that they’ll poke their little heads out again.
But they don’t, and just as he’s settling back into his seat, a sea lion barks from somewhere on our right, causing Wyatt to sit straight up and twist away from me to look over the side of the boat.
“Was that a sea lion?” he asks, his excitement kicking back up. “That was definitely a sea lion.”
As if he’s been heard, there’s another bark, followed by another a distance away, this one sounding more like a scream than anything.
Wyatt spins back to me, eyes wide, face lit like he’s won some kind of jackpot, then he turns back towards the water.
This time, I look out over the dark blue as well, tucking a leg up under myself so I can see over him.
A head peeks out of the water, and I point at it over Wyatt’s shoulder, the gasp he lets out making me laugh.
“Definitely a sea lion,” I confirm, leaning forward to ensure he can hear me.
At the same time, he leans back, and suddenly we’re chest to back, my face practically next to his. Before I can put any distance between us, though, he grabs my arm, still over his shoulder and pointing, and pulls it down over his chest.
It would be so easy to turn my head and find his lips.
To kiss him like the night on my couch before I broke things off.
I don’t allow myself to think about that night often, and not just because of how it ended, but because of how it began.
How incredible our date was, and what it was like to fool around and snuggle on the couch after.
All the things I know we’ve missed out on because of my priorities.
And where has that truly gotten us? He still infiltrated my life.
Made himself a permanent fixture within it.
He’s making his own memories with Gran, and I’m bearing witness to them and the friendship that’s bloomed between them.
Wouldn’t it be nice if the man I choose to have in my life knows and loves Gran before she’s not here anymore?
As painful as that is to think about, one day it’ll be my reality, no matter how many times I wish it weren’t.
One day, she will leave me, and I’ll be just as broken as I was when Grandpa passed.
But maybe the pieces wouldn’t be so hard to pick up if there were someone there to help me. Someone who loves Gran as fiercely as they love me. Who makes me feel safe and protected. Like no harm will ever come my way as long as they’re around.
Someone who pays for his own damn date just so he doesn’t need to take anyone else out.
A date that is potentially our third. But could also be considered our first. For a second time.
We sit close to each other as the boat speeds up, heading further from the harbor and into open water.
Eventually, I loop my other arm over his shoulder, and he takes my hands in his to warm them while I soak in his body heat.
Between my jacket, the helm cutting the wind, and Wyatt’s body acting like my own personal furnace, I’m toasty warm as we watch the ocean for whales.
It’s not long before the captain is slowing us down, turning to the right. Everyone on the boat seems to liven up when he does it, heads on a swivel, trying to figure out what’s going on and why we’re stopping.
“Everyone watch to the right,” the captain calls out. “Pay attention to all the foam and bubbles on the water.”
Not ten seconds later, a deep, dark gray lump breaks the smooth surface about a hundred and fifty yards out, and everyone on the boat gasps at the spout of moisture that flies high into the air.
A humpback whale, the long sheen of its back surfacing, its fin breaking through before disappearing beneath the dark, inky water.
“Holy shit.” Wyatt sounds awestruck, and I pull back from him, getting to my feet. He does the same, and with the boat now in neutral we go to the railing. “That was a freaking whale. B, that was a whale!”
I’ve never seen his green eyes as wide as they are as he turns them on me, dancing with a joy that lights a flame within my soul.
Warmth that doesn’t have to do with temperature spreads through me, starting in my heart, pouring down into my stomach and rising into my mind.
It fills every inch of me to see him like this, and when he glances back to the water, and everyone around us gasps again, I don’t tear my gaze away from him.
Whales will come and go, a tour can be taken any time, but the experience of watching Wyatt see them for the first time will only happen once in our lifetime.
“It just came up again, holy shit, this is crazy,” Wyatt gushes.
The captain, listening, corrects him, “Think that was actually a calf.”
Wyatt whips towards the captain, saucers for eyes, magic exploding from them. “Calf? They have freaking calves?”
“Where he’s from, calves come with four legs and moo,” I explain to the captain, and we all laugh.
Wyatt turns back to the water, but not before clutching my hand, waiting for the next surfacing.
He doesn’t need to wait long before they both come up, blowing and refilling their lungs, and then they’re gone again.
The look on his face never changes. He looks so young.
So boyish. Filled with a joy that I imagine was rampant in his youth with all his brothers, before his dad became what he is today.
Maybe he looked like this when he saw the first calf on the ranch.
Or the first time he got to hold a fire hose.
I commit every second to memory because I never want to forget these moments.
In my heart, I know I’ll pull this day out any time I’m sad or upset, for the rest of my life.
It’ll keep me warm on nights when I’m lonely, days that are cold, and moments filled with heartache.
The joy he’s feeding my soul right now will survive within me for years to come.
There’s nothing I’ve ever felt more certain of.
With every breath the whales take, Wyatt tenses with excitement, eyes glued to the water until finally he takes a quick peek at me, only to do a double take. He whirls fully in my direction, grabbing my face in both his hands, concern overwriting his joy.
“B, what’s wrong?”
Shaking my head vehemently, I grab hold of his wrists. “Nothing. You need to watch the water.”
The frown deepens. “Why are you crying?”
My head jerks a little, and I blink, surprised. Crying? I’m not crying. But when he swipes a thumb across my cheek, then shows me the moisture on the pad, I burst into laughter. Tears of joy, and I hadn’t even realized they were leaking down my face.
“You make me really happy,” I tell him honestly, without hesitation or shyness.
It’s Wyatt’s turn to blink, wholly not expecting my answer. “B…”
“I don’t want to be just friends,” I whisper, and this time I feel the prick behind my eyes. “I don’t think I ever wanted it to be just that, but I didn’t think I could have it all.”
“You can have it all, plus. I’d give you anything,” he says as quietly as me, just so we can hear each other over the light breeze and other patrons’ chatter. “You already have all of me. You have since that first night, B. I knew then that you were it.”
“The night we danced?” A laugh full of disbelief leaves my lips, but his thumb touches them a second later.
“Yes,” he nods, and the truth is written in his eyes. “Sometimes you just know, and I knew. The way you looked at me every time I spun you around, saying again, again. You were so damn happy, and I never wanted that feeling to end.”
A sound bubbles up my throat, fresh tears burning my eyes, knowing that feeling. Experiencing that feeling with him and the whales. He wipes my cheeks again, but that doesn’t stop my vision becoming blurry and turning him to a watery mass in front of me.
“This might be the best day of my life,” he murmurs, dipping his head towards mine.
Tilting mine to meet him, my hands slide down covered forearms, slipping beneath the open flaps of his jacket to rest on his sides. Wyatt steps closer to me, our bodies nearly flush when our lips meet, and it’s like coming home for the first time in months.
I melt into him. His body, his kiss, his hands still holding my face.
Whimpering softly against his lips, his mouth moves over mine in a soft, unhurried dance.
Like we have all the time in the world to stand here and kiss each other.
Like time has stood still just so we can have this moment.
My chest is bursting at the seams, full of all the joy he’s poured into me. Joy that continues to rain down.
The sound of gasping comes first, then the sound of rushing water, and a huge exhale. The kiss breaks as both our heads snap to look over the side of the boat, our own gasps coming a fraction of a second later.
One of the whales is breaching twenty yards from the boat, half of its body already out of the water, the other half still following as it twists in midair. It lands on top of the water with a thunderous crash I can feel in my bones, and then dives back under into the dark depths of the ocean.
“Holy shit,” Wyatt breathes.
At the same time, I cry out, “Oh my god!”
We look at each other, both wearing stunned gazes, and then we’re focused back on the water.
Thirty seconds later, the breath leaves my lungs as another whale, smaller this time, breaches the surface the same way the first one did, turning and landing back in the water with a boom that reverberates through the air.
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” Wyatt lets go of my face, grabbing onto the railing at our sides, jumping up and down. “Did you see that? Did you freaking see that? Let’s go! Do you think they’ll do—”
The words aren’t even out of his mouth when the water breaks and a snout appears, followed by the rest of the whale, about the same distance away as the first time.
The way Wyatt bounces around, his hands in his hair like he can’t believe what he’s seeing, his jaw slack, eyes wide, has me digging my phone out of my side pocket to capture the reaction.
It’s perfectly timed when the smaller whale breaches a second time, and Wyatt goes nuts all over again, then looks for me, finding me with my phone up and trained on him. He throws his head back and laughs, making me giggle gleefully that he’s so amused I’d film this.
“I will riot if this doesn’t go on your socials,” I tell him. “As much as I want to keep all your joy to myself, this deserves to be shared.”
Something in him softens then, like some missing piece of a puzzle falling into place. He holds his hand out for me. “C’mere.”
“I don’t want to be on camera,” I tell him, but give him my hand anyway, letting him pull me close.
“You won’t be,” he replies, pulling his own phone out of his pocket. “Not for anyone but me.”
He spins me halfway around, catching me around the waist and pulling me into his chest, my back against him.
Then he holds his phone out in front of us, getting the angle just right, and waits.
Minutes seem to tick by, and I’m sure his arm must be getting tired, but he’s hellbent on getting the shot.
When I’m about to tell him it’s okay, the surface breaks, right over his shoulder, and the momma whale breaches.
Before she splashes back in the water, the calf is halfway out as well, both of them in the shot as our jaws drop at the sight he just captured on camera.
A second later, after the baby hits the water and disappears, we turn to each other, hesitate for half a second, and then we’re both jumping up and down on the deck of the boat.
Gran is going to be pissed she missed this.