Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
Wyatt
Nash tries to convince us to start drinking again once we’re back at Cade’s place, but Dad shuts it down immediately. It’s obvious Mom gave him clear orders, and he’s not about to risk ignoring them, so he sends us all to bed like we’re teenagers again.
I end up on an air mattress in Hunter’s nursery, but I don’t mind.
I’ve gotten used to sleeping just about anywhere after years of bouncing between hotel rooms during the football season.
Still, it’s different now. That was before I spent every night for a week with Ivy curled up against my chest. Before I knew what it felt like to fall asleep with her in my arms.
I reach for my phone and fire off a quick message.
Me: Hey, baby. You in bed yet?
I watch the screen, waiting for the message to deliver. It goes through but remains unread. Maybe she’s already asleep. I hope not, I really want to hear her voice, even if it’s just through a text.
Lying back, I stare at the ceiling, the plastic blades of Hunter’s helicopter light fixture motionless above me. My thoughts drift to earlier, when I saw Ivy holding him, her face soft with affection. My heart squeezes just thinking about it.
We’ve only been official for a week, but it doesn’t feel new.
It feels like something that’s always been there, waiting for us to finally wake up and see it.
I’ve known Ivy nearly my whole life, and this now, it feels like what we have could last forever.
Watching her with Hunter only confirmed what I already knew.
I want everything with her. The whole future.
The late nights, the lazy mornings, the family, the forever.
Ash once told me that when I met the right person, I’d fall fast. I didn’t believe her. She never predicted Ivy, of course, and I never saw it coming either. But now I get it. And damn, she was right.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it instantly, smiling when I see Ivy’s name.
Ivy: Hey. Just finished helping your mom clean up. In bed now. Missing you.
My smile grows at her last words. God, I miss her too. I’m about to type out a reply when another message drops in, and it nearly knocks the breath out of me.
It’s a photo.
She’s lying in my bed, wearing just my jersey, the hem bunched high around her hips, revealing the black lace of her panties that I can’t stop staring at.
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath, my pulse spiking, and my mind instantly imagining what it’d feel like to be there, touching her instead of just looking.
I quickly tap out a reply.
Me: God, Ivy. You’re so sexy. I wish I was there.
Her response pops up almost instantly:
Ivy: I wish you were here too. Do I get a picture?
I grin, about to reply, when another message comes through:
Ivy: A shirtless one, please…
Laughing under my breath, I push off the comforter and snap a quick photo. I hit send, then watch the screen, waiting for her reply.
Ivy: I want to touch you so badly.
Seconds later, another message comes through
Ivy: I wish you were doing this again.
Another image comes through and it’s one I know by heart.
It’s the photo I took of us in the backseat on the way to The Velvet Club, the one I’d taken to mess with Ash.
I’ve stared at this photo more times than I’d like to admit to.
She might have thought we were faking it back then, but I wasn’t.
That was the first time I kissed her, albeit not her lips, but I knew then I didn’t want it to be the last.
But then I remember what she’d said after I took that picture, that she loved how she saw herself in it. She never told me why.
Me: You never did tell me how you saw yourself in that picture.
I watch the message deliver and then be read, and then the typing bubble flickers… then disappears. This happens a couple of times, and I wonder if she’s writing a novel or rethinking her reply.
Finally, her answer appears.
Ivy: It doesn’t matter now.
I frown. It matters to me.
Without hesitating, I press on her name and lift the phone to my ear. Seconds later, she answers.
“Hey,” she breathes.
“Hey,” I say, my heart kicking up just at the sound of her voice. “You look incredible in my jersey.”
A laugh drifts through the line. “Thanks. You look pretty incredible without your shirt.”
I chuckle. “Tell me what you meant, Ivy. How you saw yourself in that picture,” I say gently.
There’s a pause, and when she speaks again, her voice is quieter. “It doesn’t matter now, Wyatt.”
“Please. I want to know.”
I hear her sigh, followed by the soft rustle of sheets as she moves around in my bed. And then the silence stretches out, but I wait, giving her the space to find her words.
“Ivy,” I say softly, coaxing her when the silence stretches too long. I know she doesn’t want to tell me, but I can’t let it go. I need to understand.
When she made that offhand joke about messing with Ash, I’d only meant to snap a playful shot, just my hand on her leg.
That was the plan. But the second I leaned in, I couldn’t stop myself.
My lips brushed her neck, and for a moment, I forgot everything else.
I hadn’t thought it through. I’d just felt it.
And when I finally pulled away and saw her eyes closed, her breath caught like she’d been holding it… I let myself hope. Maybe she felt something too. And now I know she did.
“I don’t know,” she says at last, a slight wobble to her voice. “I guess I saw someone who, for once, felt… enough. Someone who was wanted.” There’s a pause. “Even if it wasn’t real, it looked like it was. And that meant something.”
“Ivy…” Her name falls from my lips, heavy with emotion. The weight of her words lodges deep in my chest. “Why would you ever think you weren’t enough?”
She exhales, the sound sharp and painful. “Because I never have been,” she says simply. “Not to a guy, anyway.”
I close my eyes for a second, my heart breaking as her words echo in my head.
How long has she been putting on a show?
I’ve seen her out with Ash and the girls, laughing and seemingly carefree, but the whole time, she’s been carrying that weight and no one’s noticed.
I hope to God she’s talked to Ash about it.
“Ivy,” I say again. “It kills me to know you ever felt that way.”
I sit up slowly as she sighs, the air mattress creaking beneath me.
“There was this guy in college,” she says quietly.
“We were never actually together, but for months, he gave me the impression that maybe something could happen between us. I finally worked up the nerve to tell him how I felt… and he laughed. Said I wasn’t someone he’d ever take home.
His dad was some big-shot senator, and I guess I just wasn’t the right kind of girl.
” She pauses, then adds, “He made me feel like I’d never measure up. And I guess I never really shook it.”
A tight knot of rage settles in my gut. I want to go back in time, track this asshole down, and make him pay for planting that kind of doubt in her. No one should ever make her feel like she’s not worthy. Because she is. So much.
“That guy is an asshole who never deserved you. You’ve always been enough,” I say. “More than enough. You’re smart, funny, loyal, and so fucking beautiful it actually hurts. If only you could see yourself through my eyes. You wouldn’t doubt it for a second.”
“You’ve known me for twenty years, Wy,” she says quietly. “You never noticed me before.”
“Because I was an idiot.”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I wish I were saying all of this to her face.
“I was blind, Ivy,” I say quietly. “You were always there… right in front of me. But I was too wrapped up in football, the noise, everything that felt big but really wasn’t. And now that I finally see you… I can’t unsee you. I don’t want to.”
I hear her let out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I’m being so insecure and clingy,” she whispers. “It just hard to believe it’s happening.”
“You’re not being clingy,” I breathe, my heart cracking at the edges. You’re not too much. You’re everything. And this–” I pause, my voice dropping lower. “This is real. It’s happening, baby.”
There’s a beat of silence, then she asks, almost like she’s afraid to hear the answer, “Why now? Why me?”
I sit up a little, raking a hand through my hair before pressing the phone tighter to my ear.
“Because when I’m with you, it’s like I can finally breathe.
Like I don’t have to keep up some version of myself for everyone else.
You see me, the real me. You make me laugh…
and you make me feel like the kind of man I want to be.
” I pause for a second, my voice dropping a little.
“Ivy… I’ve felt a little lost lately. But that started to change the night of the charity auction.
And the more time we spent together after that, the more I wanted to know everything about you.
Now? I can’t picture my life or my future, without you in it. ”
“Really?” she whispers, her voice laced with disbelief.
“Really, baby.” I pause, hearing the doubt hiding behind her words. “I know you don’t fully believe me yet–”
“I do,” she interrupts. “You haven’t done anything to make me doubt you. It’s me. I feel like I’m the one messing this up.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You’re not messing this up. I know it’s hard to trust words alone, but I’m going to show you with everything I have that I mean every word. I’m not going anywhere. I promise you that.”
There’s a pause before she speaks again, her voice barely holding steady. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Wyatt. I just… I wish you were here.”
God, I wish I was there too.
After a few more minutes of talking, we reluctantly say goodnight.
I stare at my phone long after the call ends, her voice still echoing in my ears.
The cracks she tried to hide hit me harder than I expected, and the urge to go to her becomes impossible to ignore.
She needs to know this is everything, not just in words, but in the way I show up for her.
I don’t even stop to think.
Grabbing a hoodie and my keys from the nightstand, I slip out of the nursery as quietly as I can, careful not to wake anyone. The house is silent, the lights off, and my heart pounds like I’m seventeen again, sneaking out past curfew.
I order an Uber and walk to the end of the street, needing the fresh air to keep my nerves in check.
My thoughts are all her, curled up in my bed, wearing my jersey, the tremble in her voice when she said she didn’t feel like enough.
Every smile, every glance, every second we’ve shared this past week replays in my head like a reel I never want to end.
When the car pulls up, I slide into the back, my knee bouncing the whole short drive to my parents' place. I have the driver stop at the end of the driveway, not willing to risk waking my mom, especially not the night before Nash’s wedding.
If she catches me, there’s a chance I won’t make it through the front door.
I let myself in quietly, navigating the familiar space in the dark like I did as a kid. When I reach my bedroom door, I pause. There’s a faint sliver of light coming from inside, maybe from her phone screen. Hopefully, she’s still awake.
I push the door open, and her head turns at the sound. Her eyes widen for a split second before a smile spreads across her face.
“Wyatt,” she whispers, pushing herself upright against the pillows.
I don’t say anything. I just cross the room, kick off my shoes, and pull off my hoodie, dropping it to the floor.
She lifts the comforter without hesitation, and I slide in beside her, pulling her into my arms like that’s exactly where she’s meant to be.
She folds into me, her body pressing close like she’s been waiting for this all night.
“You came,” she breathes against my chest.
I press a kiss to her forehead. “You said you wished I was here,” I murmur. “I couldn’t stay away.”
She doesn’t answer, just tucks herself tighter against me, her breath finally steady, like she’s letting go of everything she’s been holding inside.
And as I lie there with her heart beating against mine, I know without a doubt I made the right choice. This is where I’m meant to be. Not just tonight. Always.