Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Ivy
Istay quiet during the drive to the butterfly conservatory, and I know Wyatt’s picked up on it.
Even though I’m staring out the windshield, I can feel his eyes flicking toward me, probably trying to figure out what’s going on.
The truth is, I’m wondering the same thing.
I thought talking to Ash would help clear my head, but if anything, I feel even more confused.
The necklace Wyatt gave me completely threw me.
I’m wearing it, how could I not? It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned.
But it’s the meaning behind it, or the lack of clarity of it, that’s screwing with my head.
“We’re here,” Wyatt says as he eases the car into a parking spot and shuts off the engine. He turns to look at me. “You ready?”
I glance over and force a smile. I need to stop overthinking this. He’s planned something really thoughtful, and the least I can do is be present and enjoy it.
“Yep. Let’s do it.”
He flashes me that easy grin of his before climbing out and circling around the hood.
This car is nothing like the Ferrari we took to Phoenix.
It isn’t a car at all, but a truck. A beast with huge wheels, leather seats, and blacked-out windows.
It’s tall enough that I need his hand to help me down.
Once my feet hit the ground, he falls into step beside me, and we head toward the entrance.
The lot isn’t empty, but it’s quieter than I expected for a weekend.
“I booked our tickets ahead, so we can head straight in,” Wyatt says as we approach the doors.
“Thanks for arranging all this,” I say, glancing over at him.
He gives me a quick look, his voice soft. “Of course.”
We walk in without waiting, Wyatt giving a nod to the guy at the entrance as we pass.
The moment we step inside, everything shifts.
The air turns warm and damp, thick with the scent of greenery.
My eyes widen as I take in the scene. There are lush, vibrant plants in every direction, with bold tropical flowers blooming in bursts of color.
Sunlight streams down through the glass ceiling above, lighting everything up.
It’s breathtaking.
Butterflies float through the air in slow, lazy arcs, and when one of them brushes against my bare shoulder, I gasp.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, turning to Wyatt. “Did you see that? It touched me.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, they’re everywhere. Come on. Let’s explore.”
We start down the path, surrounded by greenery and the quiet flutter of wings, and it takes me a second to realize how quiet everything is. There’s no crowd, no chatter. No nothing.
“Wait… are we the only ones here?” I ask, looking around in disbelief.
Wyatt nods. “Yeah. I booked a private tour slot. It’s just us.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to,” he says, his voice low. “There’s no way we could’ve walked through here without people stopping me for autographs or photos. I didn’t want that for today. Today’s about you, not me.”
A small smile tugs at my lips. “Sometimes I forget I’m hanging out with football royalty.”
He lets out a quiet scoff. “Hardly. I love the fans… but not today. I didn’t want any distractions.”
I hold his gaze. “You’ve always just been Wyatt to me,” I say. “I forget half the time that you’re some big-name athlete.”
His expression softens. “I like that. That you see me, not the guy on the field. Most people can’t separate the two.”
I frown, my chest tightening a little. “That must be exhausting.”
He gives a small shrug, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “Comes with the territory.”
There’s more he’s not saying, and I want to ask, but I can tell he’s not ready to go there, so I nod, letting it go.
We spend the next hour slowly wandering through the conservatory.
It’s like stepping into another world, and it’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve been.
The butterflies land on us sometimes, and each time, it feels like a little bit of magic.
I catch myself smiling more than I have in a long time.
When we finally make our way to the small gift shop, Wyatt slips his hand into mine and gives it a gentle tug.
“Pick something out,” he says. “A souvenir. To remember the day.”
I shake my head, my fingers brushing the necklace around my neck. “You already gave me a gift.”
“And now I’m giving you another,” he says with a grin. “Pick something, or I’m getting the biggest plush butterfly they sell.”
I laugh. “Okay, okay!”
I wander through the shop, scanning the shelves lined with pens, postcards, and soft toys. Everything feels too much because he’s already given me so much. I reach for a pen with a ridiculous glittery butterfly charm dangling from the top.
“What about this?” Wyatt asks, holding up a beautifully carved wooden butterfly house. “It’d look perfect in your garden.”
I hesitate. “That’s too much. I’ll just get the pen.”
“It’s not too much,” he says, already heading to the counter. “We’ll get the pen too.”
“I don’t need both…”
“But you’re getting both. Final decision.” His grin is teasing but warm.
I sigh, smiling. “Thank you.”
Once he’s paid, we step outside. The warmth of the Phoenix sun greets us, but compared to the humidity inside, the air feels cool and fresh. I take a deep breath, feeling a little lighter, though I’m still not sure what to make of this thing between us.
We head to Wyatt’s car, and he holds the door open for me as he helps me climb inside.
“Lunch first, then the stadium?” Wyatt asks as he starts the engine, the deep rumble vibrating through the seat.
I nod, buckling in. “Sounds perfect. I’m definitely ready for food.”
Wyatt
The stadium’s a little outside the city, and on the way there, we stop at a small diner the team usually hits after practice. We split burgers and fries, and we each have a slice of key lime pie, a rare treat for me, but it’s the off-season, so I let myself enjoy the occasional dessert.
An hour later, I pull into the stadium lot.
I could take Ivy through the players’ entrance, but I want her to see it the way the fans do.
Game day is a whole different experience, of course, but there’s still something special about walking in through the front, taking it all in like everyone else.
At least, I’ve always thought so. I just hope she feels the same.
“Wow! It’s so much bigger than I imagined,” she says, her voice full of awe.
I smile. “It seats just over sixty-three thousand.”
Her eyes widen as she turns toward me. “And that doesn’t totally freak you out? Playing in front of that many people?”
I laugh. “Not anymore. You get used to it. I mean, sure, I still get nervous before a game, but it’s the good kind, you know?”
She nods thoughtfully. “I get that. I’m the same way before an open house.” She lets out a soft laugh, and the sound hits me right in the chest. “Not that it’s anything close to the same, obviously.”
“We’re both doing what we love, right?” I say, and she nods in agreement. “Shall we head in?”
“Yes! I can’t wait to see everything,” she says, practically buzzing with excitement.
I smile, unable to hide how much I love seeing her like this, lit up, and completely caught up in the moment.
“Hang tight. I’ll come around,” I say, sliding out of the truck and circling the front. I open her door and offer my hand. She slips her fingers into mine, and I help her down.
“Thanks,” she says, her eyes meeting mine as I close the door behind her.
My gaze drops for a beat to the diamond resting at her throat, and an ache stirs in my chest. I want to reach out, just to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin.
But I don’t. Instead, I pull back, letting her hand slip from mine with a quiet sigh.
“It’s this way,” I say, walking ahead, mostly to keep from doing something reckless, like pulling her into my arms and kissing her senseless.
“Is the stadium open to the public in the off-season?” she asks, falling into step beside me.
I nod. “Yeah. They host corporate events, offer tours, that kind of thing. The team store’s always open too.”
“Oh, good!” she says, lighting up. “I want to get a Wyatt Brookes jersey. A little birthday gift to myself. Actually,” she adds with a tilt of her head, “I don’t even know what number you wear. That makes me a terrible friend, doesn’t it?”
I stop in my tracks. She wants one of my jerseys?
My head spins as an image of her wearing just that and nothing else slams into me. I swallow hard, trying to get a grip. A moment later, she realizes I’ve fallen behind and turns to look at me.
“Hey, why’d you stop?” she asks. “You’re mad I don’t know your number, aren’t you?”
I hear the uncertainty in her voice and can’t help but laugh. “I’d be more shocked if you did know it. You know next to nothing about football. I’m just… surprised you want a jersey, that’s all.”
She gives a casual shrug. “Ash says they’re comfy to sleep in.”
My head spins again. Sleep in. Jesus.
“I’ve got a bunch of extras at home,” I say. “You can have one.”
Her eyes spark with curiosity. “With your number on it?”
I nod, trying not to let my grin give me away. “Yep. Number eleven.”
Her eyes widen. “No way!”
“What?”
“Number eleven’s my lucky number.”
“You’re serious?”
She deadpans. “No, I just made that up.”
I bark out a laugh. “You’re impossible, Ivy James.”
“Mom! It’s Wyatt Brookes!” a small voice shouts from across the lot, cutting through our banter.
We both turn to see a kid, maybe five years old, his eyes wide and almost vibrating with excitement as he stares at me.
“Hey there, buddy,” I say, walking toward him with a smile. “What’s your name?”
“Luca,” he says quietly, glancing up at his mom.
“You a Cardinals fan?” I ask, and he nods enthusiastically, his whole face lighting up.
I look to his mom. “Are you here for a stadium tour?”
Her cheeks flush, and she shakes her head. “Not today.” She lowers her voice slightly. “I couldn’t afford the tickets.” Then, more cheerfully for Luca’s sake, she adds, “We just drove up from Prescott so he could see it in person. He’s a huge fan.”
I glance back at Luca. He’s still staring like he’s not sure I’m real.
“Well, you can’t come all this way and not see the inside,” I say with a grin. “You and your mom can be my guests. What do you say?”
His eyes widen. “Really?”
I nod. “Really. As long as your mom’s okay with it.”
He spins to her, grabbing her hand. “Please, Mom. Please can we?”
She lets out a surprised laugh, looking at me with cautious gratitude. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Her expression softens into a smile. “Thank you. Truly.”
Luca tugs at her hand, already heading for the entrance. As they walk off, I turn back to Ivy. She’s watching me with this look I can’t quite name, something soft and warm and a little bit in awe.
“Is this okay?” I ask, realizing I might’ve derailed the day I planned for her.
She smiles and slips her arm through mine. “Of course. You probably just gave Luca the best memory of his life.”
I glance down at her, her arm looped through mine, that smile of hers doing dangerous things to my heart.
“Maybe,” I whisper.
“Definitely.”
I stop in surprise when she suddenly goes up on tiptoe and presses a light kiss to my cheek.
I glance down at her, grinning. “Not that I’m complaining,” I say with a wink, “but what was that for?”
“You’re a good man, Wyatt,” she says, a blush creeping into her cheeks.
Something sparks in the air between us, subtle but undeniable. I look at her, and I swear I’ve never wanted to kiss someone more than I want to kiss her right now. Her tongue flicks out to wet her lips, and it nearly undoes me.
Unable to stop myself, I reach up and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, letting my fingers brush her skin. She doesn’t pull away, and for a heartbeat, everything else fades. My pulse is pounding, loud in my ears, and I find myself wondering if she feels even half of what I do.
“We should head in,” she says, cutting through the moment between us.
I nod, offering a smile. “Yeah… let’s go make a few dreams happen.”