"What can I do to make this better?"
She steps back. "You can't. It's over. I liked you, Wyatt, and you humiliated me." She lifts her palms in the air. "I'm not saying it's all your fault. I'm a big girl, and I made my own choices that night. But I learned a lesson the hard way, and best believe I'm not planning to forget it."
"What lesson is that?"
Her eyes fill with tears. "That you, Wyatt Hayden, aren't worth the heartache." She walks out, her footsteps echoing through the empty house, leaving me alone with her parting words.
Like an arrow, swift and sure, they cut through bone and sinew, piercing my heart. If I've learned anything in the past month since I've come to help Jo, it's that I don't want to spend much time without her. I don't know what she's done to the inside of my chest, but it's irreversible.
To her, I'm not even worth the heartache.
But I used to be. That's what I will have to cling to, holding it out like a beacon of hope. There was a time when Jo thought I was worthy, and that's the place I need to get back to.
I've long since given up trying to convince my dad I'm worthy of the Hayden name. But for Jo, I'd spend forever trying to change her mind.
19
Jo
Sawyer's moneyis like an injection of epinephrine into the heart of Wildflower. Maybe that’s why I’ve been able to finally start thinking of it by its new name. All of a sudden, it'salive.
Construction trucks, a cement mixer, a crew of men directed by Scott, the general contractor Dakota hired to build The Orchard.
After I'd come to my senses and stopped being hardheaded, I'd asked Wyatt for his lawyer's contact info. It's one of the few times we've spoken in the past three weeks. Once the papers were signed and the money transferred, I officially quit working at The Orchard so I could be here full-time.
Wildflower has a pulse now, a heartbeat, and for the first time I'm seeing it as something more than the worst, most impetuous mistake of my life.
Speaking of impetuous mistakes… Wyatt shows up every day, ready to help in any capacity. I keep thinking one day he'll be a no-show, and that will be it. I won't tell the sheriff, he'll go back to doing what Wyatt does, and this will be a blip in time. But, no. Wyatt shows up, takes direction from Scott, and works all day alongside the men who are being paid for their contribution.
I've thought over and over about what happened a few weeks ago, and the only logical conclusion is that Wyatt saw something he can't have, and that made him want it.Me.
I'd be lying through my teeth if I said that in that moment, with the bathroom countertop digging into my back and Wyatt's fingers trailing over my heated skin, I didn't want to give in. It was damn near impossible, and I was slip-sliding my way to a replay of that night in Phoenix, until he said those words.
I can already tell you're going to be the best thing I've ever tasted.
The same thing he said to me back then, the words that ensnared me like a rabbit in a trap. And I fell for it, the way I'm assuming other girls have. He'd used the line again because he doesn't remember using it on me once already. It took my embarrassment, threw fury on it, and created a combustible situation.
It's been awkward ever since. My muscles are stiff, my posture rigid when he's nearby. He says very little to me, but his presence looms large.
I watch him in secret when I can, swinging a hammer, smoothing concrete, laying out forms, and try to reconcile this man doing hard manual labor with the Wyatt I thought I knew. He doesn't look at me, not that I know of, anyway. I wonder if he's as affected from learning we slept together as he seemed to be. More than shocked, he appeared broken, as if me telling him had consequences reaching further than I can even guess.
I want to be angry at him. It's safest there, sitting in indignation like I have been for so long. But when he's lost in a task and I get the chance to study his face, the old feelings creep in. A buoyancy settles over me, and my limbs become weightless, making me wonder if I could fly. This is dangerous territory for me to be in.
He's working in the main house today, updating it the way Scott and I have planned. Refinishing the wood floors, new countertops, fresh paint on the walls. The bones of the house are good. It needs only TLC to make it a home.
I step into the house and overhear Scott complimenting Wyatt on the refinished cabinets in the master bath. "Why'd you start with those?" he asks.
"They were the ugliest shade of green. Jo really hated it. I think to her, it represented the project as a whole. I thought if I could make at least one improvement, it'd make her feel better."
I shrink back against the hallway wall, my hand pressed to my chest.
They keep going, moving on to another subject, and I scurry out before they see me.
"Doyou want help with that wine order?" I point at the computer sitting open on the bar, and Dakota grins. She walks out from behind the bar at The Orchard and settles herself on the stool beside me.
Dakota wears a sleeping Colt in the baby sling, and she adjusts herself carefully, being mindful of him. "You don't work here anymore, remember?"
"True." I nod. "But that doesn't mean I forgot everything the second I turned in my keys. I can still help out if you need it. Lord knows you've been helping me enough at Wildflower, and you definitely don't work there."
