Chapter 44
MADDIE
Nerves flutter in my stomach and for a moment as I navigate my truck along the track to Wyatt’s place, I wonder if I’ve left it too late and he won’t want to see me.
Different scenarios run through my mind, but I only hold on to the ones where he welcomes me with open arms and tells me how much he’s missed me, that he’s never letting me go.
His truck is parked in the exact same spot as it was the last time I was here, and I suck in a breath as I stare up at the two-story house. I felt so different back then, fueled by my anger. Hell, I barely gave myself time to think, and yet, now, it’s a different kind of urgency spurring me on.
Exhaling, I cut the engine and climb from the cab. If I sit in the truck, it’s highly likely that I won’t make it to the front door and this conversation needs to happen. I want it to happen.
Gravel crunches beneath my feet and every step I take feels laden with my guilt at having cut myself off from him. I should have let him in, I know this now.
A lump forms in my throat and I rest a hand against my stomach as I reach the front door, like it will somehow ease the butterflies swarming in it.
I’ve never been so nervous to have a conversation; even when I’ve pitched for weddings or corporate retreats, I’m excited and buzzing with energy.
All I feel now is nauseous and the heavy weight of uncertainty at what will be waiting for me behind the door.
I lift my hand and knock.
There’s no turning back now. Not that I want to.
It feels like an eternity before I hear the sound of the lock clicking on the other side.
Wyatt opens the door, his hair slightly disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it.
The sight of him soothes me and I feel some of the tension ease out of me, only to be replaced by a longing ache in my chest.
“Mad?” he utters, almost like he can’t quite comprehend that I’m standing here.
“Hi,” I whisper nervously. “Do you mind if I come in?”
He steps back, giving me plenty of space as I pass.
I wipe my suddenly damp palms over my hips as I turn toward him. He looks good, in his dark wash denim jeans and white T-shirt.
Wyatt closes the door, before facing me. “Hi,” he murmurs, his gaze bouncing around my face like he’s trying to catalogue every inch.
I know what he’ll see. I’ve lost weight because it’s been hard to find the will to eat, especially when the place I make food is the same one where my world came crashing down.
Dark circles now peek through my makeup no matter how good the coverage claims to be, because I haven’t been sleeping.
I either see Daddy and replay our last conversation, or I see Wyatt and the hurt on his face before he left my place for the last time.
“I hope you don’t mind that I’m here,” I say, suddenly feeling awkward.
He blinks before stepping forward as if he might touch me before he catches himself. “Not at all. Come, let’s sit.” Leading the way to the living room, he asks, “Would you like a drink? Something to eat?”
“No, thank you. I just have a few things I want to say, so I won’t keep you long,” I reply, watching as he takes a seat on the couch.
I couldn’t sit down even if he begged me; there’s too much angsty energy rushing through me. Instead, I pace in front of the coffee table as I try to align the words in my mind so that they make sense.
All the while, Wyatt watches me patiently, never pressuring me to hurry.
“I’m sorry,” I say, scrubbing a hand over my forehead as I feel the pressure of a headache starting up. I should have rehearsed something before coming over here, but it was busy at work, and I didn’t want to take a second to slow down in case I chickened out.
“You don’t have to apologize, Mad. I’m glad you’re here.”
“You are?” I ask, coming to a stop as I face him, his words calming the chaos inside me.
The corner of his mouth kicks up like my question is silly. “Yeah. I meant it when I said that I missed you.”
Emotion clogs my throat and I feel an all-too-familiar stinging sensation at the back of my eyes. “You did?”
He stands, maneuvering around the coffee table before pulling me into his arms. I sink against him and it feels like coming home. “Of course. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”
I inhale his woodsy scent and cling to the fabric of his T-shirt for a moment, until I find the strength to step back. He’s watchful as I move to the other side of the room, in an effort to clear the fog in my mind that always comes from his nearness.
Banding my arms around my waist, I immediately drop them when I realize that he might misconstrue it as me putting my barriers up again. That’s something I don’t ever want to do around him. I give him a soft smile and clear my throat.
Pushing back my shoulders, I dig deep for the confidence that fueled me the first time I barged into his home. “I missed you too.”
He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck as his shoulders relax.
When he goes to take a step forward, I hold up my hand and say, “Can I just say what I need to say before you come any closer?” Hurt fills his features before I quickly add, “You muddle up my mind whenever you’re near, and I need to make sure I get everything said so that we’re on the same page.”
“Okay,” he replies softly, taking a step back and stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans like that’s the last thing he wants to do.
“I’m sorry for pushing you away. I didn’t want you to see me broken because I wouldn’t have survived if you walked away.
In the middle of my grief, it felt easier to push you out than risk losing you too.
That was wrong of me, but it had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me trying to protect myself. ”
He scratches a spot on his chest, and I focus on it as I continue, “The truth is, before everything happened with my dad, I was starting to feel things for you that were more than whatever this”—I signal between us—“started out as. Then I was sucked into my grief, and I couldn’t see past it.
In my head, I wasn’t accepting everything you were trying to do in the moment, I just focused on your past and how you might leave. ”
“I wanted to be there for you, Mad. I know that our experiences are different in terms of how it happened, but I’ve been through this too.”
I scrunch up my nose, mad at myself all over again, before looking him in the eye. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
“I told you so many times over text and I even gave you the opportunity to have this conversation two weeks ago, but you chose to stay silent through it all.”
Shame covers me from head to toe, and I look down at the polished hardwood floor beneath my feet.
“It’s no excuse, but the coroner had called to confirm my dad’s cause of death not long before you arrived.
That’s why Deacon was there.” My chin trembles, but I push through.
“He had a massive pulmonary embolism. There wasn’t anything anyone could have done, but I still felt the guilt at not being able to save him.
I was drowning in my grief, and I didn’t want to take you down with me or lean on you and end up scaring you away.
” A tear tumbles down my cheek, and I swipe it away before a sob breaks free and I bend at the waist.
Wyatt crosses the room, pulling me into his arms as he strokes the back of my head. “Fuck, Mad. I wouldn’t have walked away, I promise.”
We stay like this, him uttering soothing words to me as he holds me close. I’m not sure how much time passes, but my cries have calmed and I focus on the rhythmic beating of his heart. He’s here, he always has been.
“I need to apologize to you, too.”
My stomach flips and I hold my breath as I feel tension flow through my body.
“It’s not bad. You can relax.”
I blow out a breath, not daring to look at him.
“I never should have blamed you for what happened to Autumn. It was stupid of me to put that on your shoulders when it wasn’t your actions. There’s only one person to blame and it’s the asshole that broke her.”
This time, I do lean back, my brow furrowed as I look at him. “I get it, you needed someone to blame, and with everything that happened with Deacon, it was easy to blame us. It hurt, but I gave as good as I got.”
He inhales, pulling me a little closer. “I shouldn’t have, though. That’s the thing. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I search his face as he looks down at me. The quiet is still, and for the first time in weeks it doesn’t fill me with apprehension.
“Will you go on that date with me?” I whisper.
He wipes at the moisture on my cheeks before bending to dust his lips over mine. “I’ve been waiting for you, Mad. I’d have kept waiting for you for as long as you needed.”
I press my lips against his, circling my arms around his neck as I tangle my fingers in the hair at his nape.
My heart feels full for the first time in nearly two months and it’s all thanks to this man.
The one I spent way too much time fighting with when we could have been getting to know each other properly.
Wyatt breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against mine. “I was going to let Deacon know tomorrow, but I’m working on getting the Evergreen land signed over to you.”
My jaw goes slack and I arch away from him, searching his face as I ask, “What? Why?”
He chuckles, tightening his hand on my hips as if he’s afraid of letting me go. “Because it should have been a fair fight and I think the idea you have for it is brilliant and will show people everything we love about Montana.”
“But you paid so much for it. I can’t possibly cover the full amount, it will take me years,” I reply, mentally trying to crunch the numbers, even though I already know it’s not going to work.
Wyatt lifts my chin, forcing me to focus on him. “I’m giving it to you, Mad. No strings attached. Well, except for maybe one.”
“What is it?” I ask, almost afraid to breathe in case I miss it.
Wyatt squeezes me close, pressing a kiss to my bare shoulder. “Know that you don’t need to push me away. You can lean on me.”
“I can do that, I promise.”
That’s possibly the easiest promise I’ve ever made.