If so…
20
Wyatt
If I thoughtit would help my situation, I would've brought flowers. Something tells me if I had, Shelby might have tossed them to the ground and stepped on them.
"She's not here," Shelby says, deadpan, a statue in her front door.
I use my foot to stop the door from closing. Shelby's expression remains locked in place, showing no sign of caring that I've stopped her. "Wyatt, do you want me to arrest you?"
"For what? I haven't done anything wrong."
"Since when? Ten seconds ago? I'm sure I can nab you for something in the past thirty minutes."
I laugh in a very obviously fake way.
Shelby's eyes narrow. "You already know Jo isn't here, so what do you want?"
"I want to talk to you about her."
She crosses her arms and stares at me. "Why?"
Here we go. "Because I have feelings for her and I need to figure out how to make her see I'm not the guy from two years ago."
Shelby's gaze, previously trained on my face, now drops down the length of my body and back up, like she's checking me for signs of deception. She takes a step back and inclines her head to the rest of the house. "Come in."
I follow her into the living room. She stops me before I sit down, and offers to get us both a beer.
"No, thank you," I answer, and judging by the pleased look on her face, I think I just passed a test.
She disappears and returns with two glasses of water. She sets the water on the coffee table in front of me and takes a seat opposite me on a chair. She draws her feet into her chest, balances her glass of water on her knee, and says, "I'm trying to figure you out, Wyatt."
I lean forward, resting my forearms on my thighs and clasping my hands together. "I know I haven't made things easy. But that weekend in Phoenix, I'd been drinking heavily. Something happened at home, and I looked for comfort in the wrong place."
Shelby's eyes flash, and I realize what I've said.
"The bottle," I clarify, and she cools down. "Believe me, I don't mean Jo. Not remembering being with her is its own type of punishment."
"So what do you want me to do? Because if you're here asking me for an idea for a grand gesture, you're getting zilch."
I lean forward, my elbows on my knees. "I don't want an idea. I want to know if you think I have a shot. Because after what happened a few weeks ago"—I pause to see if Jo has told Shelby about the incident in the bathroom. Her knowing nod is my answer—"I don't want to make her revisit something that upsets her. So…?"
Shelby's eyebrows raise. "Do you have a shot? That's what you're asking?"
"Yes." I hinge forward even more, my entire body waiting alongside the breath in my throat.
Shelby draws out the silence, and I know she's doing it on purpose, making me nauseous with worry. "You do."
I let out my breath and look at the ceiling. "Thank God."
"But," Shelby says, bringing my attention back to her. "Jo prefers action. Your words won't be enough. Damn near anybody can talk. But can you walk?"
"Better believe it," I answer, ducking my chin in a way my mom calls a 'cowboy nod'. "Thank you, Shelby. I appreciate you talking with me."
She follows me out to the front door. "Lucky for you," she says, opening the door and standing back so I can pass through. "You don't have to worry about Jared anymore."
I freeze. "Why is that?"
