16
Hayley
2010
Isit at the coffee shop, my hands around my brew. I should get something stronger to take the edge off. My nerves are all over the place. What was I thinking, meeting Wyatt? This is a bad idea! But there are things he needs to hear from me and not from everyone else in this town.
I order a double shot of whiskey and add it to my coffee. I feel the nerves and tightening of my chest subside, and I can breathe again.
He is so different from the Wyatt who left home four years ago. But, I’m different too, I can admit that, but there’s something more.
It isn’t the slight limp and the visible physical changes. No. It’s sadness, the worldliness. It laces his voice and takes every bit of the lively and larger-than-life personality from him. He doesn’t seem cocky and arrogant. I place a hand to my chest and take calming breaths.
He walks into the shop at precisely four p.m., looking like something out of a GQ magazine, in a white button-down shirt, blue jeans, his hair cropped short with day-old stubble. I suck in a breath, my reaction to him overwhelming me. I’m engaged, I remind myself. Even though I loved this man once, this is not the reaction I intended to have.
He walks over to the table and gives me a grin that has me blushing. His eyes drink me in. His appraisal is obvious.
He takes a seat and keeps looking at me in that way that makes my insides do cartwheels.
“You’re still as beautiful as I remember,” he says in a husky voice that makes me feel I’m the most beautiful woman on earth. I’m not short of compliments. Logan is generous with them, but hearing Wyatt say it makes me feel heady.
I snort. “You’re just saying that.”
“It’s the truth. That’s the one thing I missed about this place. This face. This smile.” He reaches across the table and runs his knuckles down my face. I feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
“Wyatt—” I let out a breath. I need to keep this on safe ground.
“Can I take your order, sir?” I welcome the interruption of the waitress who seems to only have eyes for the man across from me. He, on the other hand, only has eyes for me.
“What she’s having,” he says, not taking his eyes off me.
“I don’t—” I stop myself. Wyatt has no idea what I’m having. I smirk. Maybe that’ll teach him. “How’s your Dad?”
“Still the same. The doctor’s asked us not to expect a change. So we’re not. Mom is with him almost the entire day, and I have to pry her away.”
“She loves him. I’d likely do that in the same situation.”
“It’s just so hard to see her hurting.” It feels great that he’s opening up.
The waiter arrives with his coffee, and I ask for another, my head already feeling light.
“Whoa, this is some strong coffee.” He cocks an eyebrow.
I smile at him, and he gives me a wink. Oh, my heart. I can feel my nipples harden when he looks down at my chest. My fucking traitorous body.
He leans over and moves my shirt aside, his finger tracing the pendant he gave me two years ago, before he broke my heart by telling me I shouldn’t wait for him. He lets his finger linger on the bullet, and I swear I stop breathing. He said then that it’d be the only one that kills him.
“This always looked fantastic on you.”
I flush at his insinuation. He’d only seen it on me once.
“I remember the night I put it on.”
I remember too; I remember the way he worshipped every inch of my body.
“I—” I’m a fucking cheap drunk.
“We should get out of here.” He smirks as my second coffee arrives. I down mine and have every intention of telling him we need to talk, but my thoughts are fuzzy.
