He sighs, shaking his head. "I don't think you understand, Willow."
"Then fill me in," I state.
He studies me, running his thumb over my jaw, then gives me several chaste kisses. He retreats and says, "If I go to Tennessee, I keep my ranking. I can win back all the money I lost, and earn my spot back on the Texas team."
The hairs on my arms rise. I angrily mutter, "I'm going to kill Jagger."
Wyatt insists, "It's not his fault."
"There's no way on God's dusty earth that isn't true, and you know it!" I declare.
In a stern tone, Wyatt claims, "I'm my own man, Willow."
"Jagger's always making you bet!"
"He doesn't make me do anything! Like I said, I'm my own man, and I make my own decisions."
My insides quiver. I glance at the water, blinking hard.
He can't go to Tennessee. Wyatt belongs on our ranch.
I'm going to kill Jagger.
I shake my head, asserting, "You can't go to Tennessee."
"I don't have much of a choice," he reminds me.
I blurt out, "I think I'm pregnant!"
Wyatt stiffens, his face going pale.
Tension builds between us. Birds chirp, the gentle breeze blows across the water, and my heart feels like it's dying. The longer we sit in silence, the more freaked out Wyatt looks.
"Say something," I whisper.
He opens his mouth, then shuts it and swallows hard.
"Wyatt?"
In a low, guttural tone, he says, "I thought you were on birth control."
"I am."
"Then how are you pregnant?" he questions.
Anger, irritation, and fear of him leaving assail me. I retort, "It's not one hundred percent effective, and you know that, Wyatt Houston!"
"Don't get nasty with me, Willow Cartwright," he says in the same tone.
I blink hard. "You don't get to do this."
"Do what?"
"Blame me."
"I'm not blaming you!"
"Are you sure about that? Feels like you are," I claim. I try to get off of him, but he tightens his arm around me.
