He nods slowly. “The people here, we’re protective of what’s ours. Maybe we’re too protective sometimes. We’ve been let down by outsiders who didn’t get it, who saw dollar signs instead of people.” He pauses. “I guess what I’m trying to say is if you’re not planning to stay, if you’re just gonna go through the motions to fulfill the will and then you’re gonna cash out, it would really be easier for everyone if you just said so now. So people can make plans.”
His words sting, even though I understand where they’re coming from.
“And what if I don’t know what I’m going to do yet?”
“Well, then I guess we’re all gonna have to trust you’ll figure it out and do the right thing.”
“The right thing for whom?”
“For yourself,” he says quietly. “Because if you stay for the wrong reasons, you’ll just end up resenting this place and all of us. And that won’t do any good for anyone.”
“Wyatt, I’m not Archie. I’m not my mother. I’m just somebody trying to figure out where I belong.”
Something flickers across his face. Understanding, maybe, or empathy.
“Fair enough. Good night, Eleanor.”
“Good night.”
He leaves through the back door, and I hear his truck start up a minute later.
I stand in the empty bar, surrounded by the smell of beer and floor cleaner, and wonder what in the heck I’m doing.
CHAPTER 10
The next morning, I wake up to somebody knocking on my apartment door.
I stumble out of bed, still wearing my oversized T-shirt I sleep in, and look through the peephole. It’s Wyatt, holding two coffee cups from what I am learning is the only decent coffee place in Copper Creek.
My heart does a complicated little flip.
I open the door, suddenly very aware of my bedhead, my complete lack of makeup, and the fact that my T-shirt says, Ain’t no hood like motherhood. It was free with purchase at Target, and I’ve never actually been a mother, but it is comfortable.
“Hi.”
“Morning.”
He holds out the two coffee cups. “Peace offering for being a jerk last night.”
“You weren’t a jerk.”
“I was a little bit of a jerk.” His mouth quirks into a small smile. “I made assumptions. Got in my head about a few things. Anyway, I brought coffee. Figured you might need it.”
I take the cup, and our fingers brush. Just for a second. Just long enough for me to feel the warmth of his hand and something electric that makes me very grateful I’m holding hot coffee, so I suddenly have an excuse for my pink cheeks.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”
“I know.” He shifts his weight, looking almost nervous, which is not an expression I’ve seen on him before. “But I wanted to. I wanted to tell you I’m also sorry for putting pressure on you about your decision. It’s not fair. I mean, it’s your inheritance, your choice. I just…”
“I know,” I finish for him. “You care about this place. And the people who depend on it. Trust me, I totally get it.”
“Yeah.” He lets out a breath. “I do.”
We stand there in my doorway, me in my ridiculous T-shirt and him in his work boots and flannel shirt, holding our coffee cups and looking at each other like we’re trying to figure out what to do next.
He nods, then looks down at my shirt and smiles. “Nice shirt.”
I look down and remember what I’m wearing and want to die.
