Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Wyatt
My shirt stuck to my back. My jeans clung to my legs.
Water dripped off the brim of my hat every time I blinked, and the cold was setting deep in my bones.
I should’ve gone home to change first. But Rena didn’t give grace for delays, and Maddy didn’t deserve to wait around for her dad to get his shit together.
I pulled into the grocery store parking lot and saw Rena immediately. Leaning against her shiny SUV, sunglasses on, arms crossed, impeccably polished and impatient as always.
But Maddy?
She sat on the curb, tapping her shoes on the asphalt like she was drumming out a song only she could hear. She spotted me before Rena did. Her face lit up, and my chest eased just seeing it.
I parked the truck and swung out, boots squishing.
Rena’s mouth tightened instantly. “Wyatt. You’re soaking wet.”
“Stock water blew. Didn’t have time to change.”
“You couldn’t even towel off?” she snapped. “You look like you came straight out of a cattle trough.”
“Good morning to you, too.”
“Honestly, Wyatt.”
But Maddy was already running. “Dad!”
She barrelled into me with a hug like she was trying to tackle me. Her arms wrapped tight around my waist. She didn’t care about the water, didn’t care about the mud. She just clung.
The knot in my chest loosened.
“Hey, Mads,” I said, smoothing a hand over the back of her head. “You doing okay?”
“I am now,” she said, muffled against my shirt. Then she pulled back and scrunched her nose. “You smell like… a wet horse and old hay.”
“That’s accurate.”
Rena stepped forward, visibly annoyed. “Please don’t get her soaked. I just washed that hoodie.”
“She hugged me,” I said dryly. “And I also have laundry facilities out here in the back woods.” I didn’t usually get snappy with her; it wasn’t fair to Maddy, but the amount of shits I had to give was at an all-time low.
Rena ignored that. “Her bag is packed. Practice clothes should actually be clean this time. Please don’t let them sit for three days again.”
Maddy groaned. “Mom, I washed them.”
“And then left them in the washing machine until they smelled like feet.”
Maddy grinned at me. “She exaggerates.”
“She absolutely doesn’t,” Rena said, crossing her arms tighter.
“Anyway, I’ll text you, and we can figure out a pick-up arrangement.
Maybe you can bring her to me, so I don’t have to come here.
” It seemed to be lost on her that she grew up here.
We grew up here together, and even though none of her family lived in River’s Edge anymore, it didn’t erase her past.
“That’s fine,” I said.
Rena adjusted her sunglasses. “At least try to make her look presentable when she comes home.”
Maddy muttered, “I’m not livestock,” under her breath.
Rena glared. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
Rena sighed dramatically, like motherhood was an exhausting performance. “Goodbye, Maddy. Be good.”
Maddy nodded, but she didn’t look at her mother again.
Rena climbed into her SUV and drove off without a wave.
Maddy watched her go with a small frown she tried to hide. Then she sighed loudly. “She’s in a mood.”
“Seems like it,” I replied, not wanting to speak poorly of her mom, but also not completely impressed with the situation.
“She gets weird every time she drops me off. Like she thinks I’m gonna turn feral the second I get to your ranch.”
I snorted. “Too late, you’re already feral.”
“Facts,” she said with a grin.
We loaded her bag into the truck. When she climbed in, she stuck her feet up on the dash like she owned the place. I got in on my side, water squishing from my jeans.
She studied me for a long second.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
“Yeah.”
“Liar.”
I glanced over. She was watching me like she was trying to read the truth off my face.
“What happened?”
“My neighbours stock waterer blew.”
“Those don’t just blow. Not unless it’s winter.”
I tightened my grip on the wheel. “Sometimes they do.”
“Dad.”
The kid was too perceptive for her own good.
“It was just a long morning.”
“Okay.” She didn’t believe me, but she didn’t push—not yet. Instead, she squinted at my face. “You look stressed.”
“I’m fine.”
“Your eyebrow is doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“The thing it does when you’re pretending you’re fine.”
Jesus.
“Want to get milkshakes?” I asked, desperate for a subject change.
Her whole face brightened. “Yes. Obviously. I’m practically wasting away.”
I shook my head, fighting a smile. She always managed to drag me back to centre, even when the inside of my head was running like wildfire.
But even with her beside me, I couldn’t shake the image of Tessa behind the barn. Water dripping down her neck. Her breath brushing my mouth. Her eyes blown wide with something that wasn’t anger anymore. My chest tightened.
Maddy leaned back, stretching her legs. “So what’re we doing while I’m here? Riding? Fishing? Avoiding the world?”
“A little of everything”
She hummed approvingly. “Love that for us. Two weeks, I can’t believe it.”
Milkshakes in hand, I took the highway out of town. The mountains rose in the distance. The air smelled like rain on dust. Maddy cracked the window and let the wind tangle her hair.
After a minute, she spoke again, quieter this time. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“You sure everything’s okay out on the ranch?”
I paused.
She wasn’t oblivious. She’d grown up with a father whose attention sharpened whenever danger lingered around the edges. She recognized the signs. I didn’t want to lie. But I also wasn’t going to drag her into the mess swirling around Tessa Callahan.
“We’ve taken some hits lately,” I said slowly. “But it’s nothing big.”
“You’ll fix it.”
I glanced at her, surprised.
She shrugged. “You always do.”
I didn’t feel like I could fix anything right now.
Not the stock waterer, or the fence she refused help with. I had no idea what the hell was stalking Tessa’s property lines. And definitely not the way I’d almost kissed her in the barn like a man who didn’t know better.
Maddy rested her head against the window, eyes half closed.
“I’m glad I’m here,” she murmured.
That one sentence worked its way under every bruise inside me.
“Me too.”