36. Wyatt
WYATT
The summer sun felt different in California. Sure, I’d been to LA before for games or the odd trip, but viewing it in the context of Lark’s home, it all felt wrong. LA was too loud. Too busy. It lacked the quaint, slow pace of a place like Outtatowner.
I had subtly been keeping tabs on Lark via text. The night before she was her typical chatty self, and I knew work for the week was wrapping today.
I have a surprise for you.
Lark
You’re so sweet! I have a surprise for you too.
I smiled to myself as I arranged for an Uber. Not as good as mine.
Okay, you first.
The incoming picture made my heart sink to the floor. It was a selfie of Lark, smiling and lovely as ever... in a fucking airport. The large windows in the background provided a clear view of airplanes and a tower behind her.
No. No no no no no. This can’t be happening.
Please tell me you’re still in LA.
I watched as three bubbles appeared and disappeared four times. Then... nothing.
Lark, are you in LA?
Finally, a text came through.
Lark
I wanted to surprise you and Penny. I thought you’d be happy.
I immediately dialed her number. When it connected, I didn’t even let her get a word in. “Are you in LA?”
“Wyatt. Hey. Yes, look... if you don’t want me to make the trip, just say so. I—”
“Where are you?” The words rushed out harsher than I’d intended, but I had to see her. Immediately. Relief that she hadn’t left the city flooded over me.
Emotion filled her voice. “LAX. My plane is boarding in five minutes.”
Five fucking minutes.
“Do not get on that plane.” My eyes scanned the screens as I searched for outgoing flights from LA to Chicago. One of them had to be hers.
Gate 28. Five minutes.
I took off like it was fourth and goal in the fourth quarter and hauled ass toward the gate.
Ignited by excitement and my love for Lark, I wove around luggage carts and families with slow-ass children.
I was sure I looked crazed, but I couldn’t fuck this up.
She deserved the big act of service, the words of affirmation—all of it.
I needed to show her in every way how much she meant to me.
As I approached the gate, the flight attendants were scanning the boarding passes of the last remaining passengers. Lark wasn’t among them.
“Hold up! Wait!” I called between sucking in breaths of air.
One flight attendant looked at me, startled. “Are you on this flight, sir?”
“No, I—” I bent over, sucking wind, and was convinced I was going to puke all over the startled flight attendant.
“I’m sorry, sir. Boarding is over. If you’re not a ticketed passenger, I am going to have to ask you to leave.”
Damn it! Why did I hang up? I should have told her I was here so she’d stay.
“Are you Wyatt Sullivan?” A young kid wearing my old NFL jersey walked up to me, looking hopeful and a little stunned at my erratic behavior.
I straightened and exhaled. “Yeah.”
He held out a piece of paper and a pen. “Do you think... ?”
Anger burned in my throat. I’d fucked it up. I bit back my annoyance and tried to focus on the young fan in front of me. I hastily scrawled my name across the paper and offered it back with a thin smile.
“Thanks, man. I’m excited to see what you do with the Midwest Michigan team.”
I nodded woodenly as my hands dropped. A small crowd had gathered once people started to realize I wasn’t just some late passenger, but someone worth getting an autograph from. Murmurs and whispers surrounded me, and I felt like an asshole.
I was sure by later that afternoon there’d be some splashy news report printed about the scene I made in LAX.
I’m sure the board of directors will love to see that one.
Defeated, I turned.
Standing in front of me, with her hands on her hips and a smile on her face, was Lark.
My woman. My whole heart.
“Wyatt.” Her warm hazel eyes gleamed with unshed tears.
Cell phones were raised in our direction, no doubt filming my epic fuckup. I took two long, determined strides toward Lark.
“You’re here,” she said softly.
My heart still hammered in my chest. “I didn’t think I’d be chasing down an airplane, but yeah. I’m here.”
Lark’s arms wound around my neck, but I stepped back.
“I’m sorry, Lark. I lied to you.” Her sweet face scrunched as I put my hands on her hips to steady myself.
I have to get this right.
“I’ve been lying to you. I’m happy for you and so damn proud that you landed this role—that part is true.
But I’m fucking miserable . I know I’m supposed to smile at you and tell you everything is peachy, but I can’t do it.
I won’t. I know I’m demanding. My schedule sucks.
My hometown is ridiculous, and my family is a lot to handle sometimes.
You have this whole bright future ahead of you and—” I waved my hand around us as my heart pounded.
“If this job and LA are what you want, we’ll make it work.
But I can’t go weeks without seeing you.
I won’t. Being apart from you hurts. Physically hurts . I love you too much.”
A startled little gasp escaped from Lark’s lips. Her chin was wobbling, and worry flickered over me. Maybe I was too late.
When a tear spilled over her dark lashes, I swiped it away with my thumb, and her face leaned into my palm.
“Wyatt.” She sighed. “How are we going to make this work?”
I wanted to reassure her, tell her I have everything figured out, but that would be another lie. So instead, I gave her more truth. “I will love you. Every second of every day. You will never have to wonder if I’m thinking about you or missing you. If we’re apart, you’re with me. Here.”
I planted her hand over my heart and covered it with mine. It beat against my chest, and I only hoped she understood. “You’re it for me. Forever.”
“I was coming home, Wyatt.”
I pulled Lark closer and rested my chin on her head. “I know, baby.”
She stepped back and shook her head. “No. Home. Like, home home.”
I looked at her, trying to figure out exactly what she was implying.
Her watery smile brightened. “We wrapped today. The directors pulled me into an office and offered me a job as a series regular. They want Delilah back and are working with the writers to make that happen for the next season.”
My heart ached, knowing that it meant a more substantial long-distance relationship. But I had meant what I said. I would always support Lark, and if this was what she wanted, I would make it work. There was no option to live in a world where Lark wasn’t mine.
“They told me how they plan to spin the relationship and make it a running story line. It’s the break every actor hopes for.”
My throat filled with sandpaper, and I tried to swallow past it. “I understand, and I’m so proud of you. I know—”
“I turned them down, Wyatt.”
My heart stopped. My mind went blank.
Lark’s tinkling laugh and the brush of her fingertips across my furrowed brow had me pulling her in closer.
“But this is everything you’ve wanted. What you’ve hoped for.”
She smiled. “I thought it was. I’ve been searching for a long time, and I realized that moving all the time? Even acting? Being someone else? It was a way for me to hide.” Lark’s voice wobbled. “But I don’t want to hide anymore. I want to be seen.”
Her eyes closed as fat tears tumbled down her cheeks. I brought her close and kissed the tears away. “I see you. Baby, I see you.”
* * *
I smiled at Lark over the top of her small gray car as I shoved the last duffel bag in the back. After my near miss at the airport and several autographs later, we had decided to go back to the apartment Lark was staying at. One look around the dingy apartment and it was settled.
Lark was coming home.
I held her hand in mine as we piled her stuff into the car and headed east. Lark held her phone and smiled at the screen. Someone had filmed the whole scene at the airport and offered to send it to Lark.
She had already watched it four times but still wore a goofy grin when she did.
I snagged the phone from her hands and frowned at her. “I think you like watching me look like an idiot.”
Her hand fluttered to her chest as she blinked. “Me? Enjoy watching grouchy, always-in-control Wyatt pour his heart out? Never.”
I tossed the phone into her lap. “You’re a shit.”
Her easy laugh filled the car, and I grinned beside her as I pointed the vehicle toward home.