Say You Want Me (26 page)

I
WAKE WITH A GASP.
Sweat trickles down my skin, my breathing is accelerated, and my heart is pounding. I hate this dream. I look over to the other side of the bed, and once again, Wyatt’s side is empty. It’s the fifth night in a row I’ve had this terrifying dream. The car tumbling, the pain of hitting my head, the haunting sound of the monitors beeping, listening to them telling me I’ve lost my baby. Then, I find that my nightmare is my reality.

My feet hit the cold floor, and I go in search of Wyatt. He’s lying on the couch with the television on.

I stand here for a few minutes, but he doesn’t notice my presence. He doesn’t look like the same man from only a few short weeks ago. Wyatt was always smiling, full of joy and warmth. Now he’s cold and distant, not in a way that was even before the accident though. He was still him, just with something on his mind.

This is a man drowning in grief. I have to pull him out.

I know this. I have to find a way to get him to meet me halfway so we can get past this awful phase. I’ve been here before. I know what it looks like and where it can lead. I won’t let the man I love get lost in the abyss.

I pull my sweater around myself a little tighter and brace for a conversation we need to have.

I can’t live like this anymore. I
need
my Wyatt back.

“Hey,” I rasp. My throat still dry from sleep.

“Did I wake you?” he asks, sitting straight up.

I shake my head. “No. I had another dream.”

He doesn’t say anything as he presses his lips together. I move around the side of the couch, wanting to sit with him. We haven’t really spoken at all the last four days. He’s been at the ranch or his brother’s houses. When he gets home, he’s not really here. I’m lonely and sad.

“The accident?” Wyatt guesses.

“Yeah.” I curl up on the opposite end of the couch with what feels like an ocean between us. Three weeks ago, I would’ve practically been in his lap. “I woke up looking for you, but you were gone again.”

Wyatt leans his head back against the couch. “I started watching this movie. I didn’t even realize how late it was,” he explains.

When I look at the screen, there’s no movie playing. It’s an infomercial about skincare.

“Have you slept at all? It’s been a few nights of this.”

The dark circles under his eyes tell me he hasn’t. “I can’t.”

I shift closer, hoping maybe my touch will thaw him a little, but he moves farther away. “You can talk to me, Wyatt.”

“I’m fine.”

Right
.

“It might help?” I continue to urge. “We both lost, Faith. We’re both in this together. It might help you to talk to me.”

When I say her name, his eyes cut to me. The look he gives tells me we’re still in the anger stage.

Awesome
.

I start putting my steel walls up. I know this is going to be ugly, but I can’t let it continue on like this. He’s not the only one living in this purgatory of sorrow. I cry every day—mostly in the shower so he won’t hear me if he’s home. I wake up every morning with my hand on my belly. I’m hurting too, but I’ve been here before, and it’s not a place I want to visit again. We have to move forward in some way or another.

He lets out a short breath through his nose. “What do you want me to say? I’m not sleeping. It’s not like you should care anyway.”

Okay
. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Why do you think?” His tone is clearly disturbed. “Go back to bed, Angie.”

Breathe, Angie. Do not play into this. It’s anger and part of the process. Remember that.

“No. We’re going to talk. I think you should tell me why you’re not sleeping. I can’t know what’s going on in your head when you won’t talk to me.”

His light brown eyes study my face. I won’t crack or back down. I need him to talk to me. If he doesn’t, this will never be resolved. So I hold strong. I glare right back at him, hoping to instigate an actual conversation.

“You wanna know?” he taunts.

“Yes.”

He laughs. “All right, darlin’. I’ll tell you why I can’t sleep. Because when I close my fucking eyes, I see you dying in front of me. I remember what it felt like to find out that our little girl died. Then, I see your face when I told you Faith was gone. I see every goddamn minute and every goddamn tear you’ve shed. I can’t be around you, because each time, it’s all there again. I don’t want to sleep, because it’s a horror movie that won’t stop playin’. Is that what you want to know? I can’t look at you, Angie!”

That hurts more than I care to admit. I know I’m supposed to be levelheaded, but I slip.

“So this is my fault?” I stand with my arms wrapped around my stomach. “I’m causing you this pain?” Tears rush forward as his words cut me deep.

He’s on his feet in a second. “No!” he bellows. “It’s my fault! I was driving that car. I didn’t get you out fast enough to save her. I didn’t see the deer. None of this is your fault! But God! I can’t look at you and not see it all! Don’t you see? Don’t you see this is killing me?”

I hold back every tear that wants to escape. He’s finally talking, and I’m going to keep him going as long as I can. I know he’s struggling with guilt. I can feel it in the air. I wont let him sink. I’m trying to cling to him, and he’s got his arm out so far I can’t touch him.

“It was an accident! A horrible, horrible accident! One that took so much from us!” I can’t stop the tears now. “It wasn’t your fault! It wasn’t anyone’s fault!” Wyatt starts to walk away, but I rush after him. “Don’t walk away, Wyatt. Don’t do this, don’t walk away from me.”

He stops moving at my pleas. “I need to get out of here.”

“No!” I yell. “No more hiding. This isn’t you! This isn’t the man I’ve spent the last three months with. It was an
accident
.”

He scoffs. “You can’t believe that. I see it in your eyes. I see how you look at me now.”

My hand covers my mouth. He’s nuts. “I don’t blame you! Not one time have I ever said losing Faith was your fault. Not once have I even thought it. It was a deer! A deer ran into our car on the cold, wet road. It wasn’t your fault!” I walk toward him, but he steps back. “You can’t even let me touch you.” The words aren’t an accusation, they’re the truth. “You haven’t hugged me, kissed me, slept next to me, or anything since the burial.”

His eyes fill with tears. “I can’t.”

“Oh,” I say with pain layered on that one syllable. He can’t touch me? Me? I need his touch. I’ve fallen for him, and now he can’t bear to be around me. Everything is wrong. This isn’t how it’s meant to be.

It’s my worst fear come to fruition. I believe that at some point, Wyatt Hennington fell in love with me. I felt it every time he looked at me. But now he looks at me with something else. It’s not love and affection. He’s not hot and cold, he’s just . . . frozen.

“I’ll be back later,” Wyatt says as he turns away. “I have to check on the horses.”

I don’t think that’s true, but I’m too shocked to protest. I’ve pushed him too far. He grabs his sweatshirt and keys. Before he walks out the door, I finally reply. “I’ll be here.”

He pauses as he’s halfway out the door. “For now,” he says and then the door shuts.

The air is forced from my lungs, tears fall, and I lose it.

I’m not sure how much a heart can withstand before it gives out completely.

“Hey, Angie,” Grace says with surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see you already.”

I couldn’t sit in that house another minute. Wyatt was gone, and I don’t have a car, so when Trent came by to check in on me, I talked him into driving me here. Of course, he very indiscreetly made a phone call when I was demanding he take me to the bakery. The conversation lasted a few minutes with Trent whisper-yelling as I got ready. I couldn’t hear what he said, but Wyatt either didn’t care or didn’t argue with his brother. Seems he’s being a dick to everyone.

Trent tried to convince me to stay home, but I demanded he take me or I was calling his mama.

Here I stand.

“Yeah,” I say flippantly. “I was bored. I’d rather be here than staring at the same four walls.”

Grace nods. “I understand that. I can’t imagine sittin’ around all day. I’d go out of my mind,” she laughs. “How are you feelin’?”

“Still a little sore. I go to the doctor tomorrow for my post-op check-up. Otherwise, I’m breathing.”

“Wanna sit for a bit? I’ve been dreamin’ of these cupcakes for the last few days and would love to not have to eat alone.”

“Sure.” I smile and come around the counter.

“Presley tells me you haven’t decided if you’re headin’ back to Pennsylvania,” she says then sips her coffee.

“Presley has a big mouth.” I roll my eyes.

“Sorry, I guess I was just hopin’ that maybe you were going to stay.”

Grace is sweet, and I genuinely like her. She brought more food than anyone else over the last few weeks. She said when she’s emotional, she cooks. It was heartwarming to see a town reach out to us. Even though the loss was by far more of Wyatt’s and my own.

“You didn’t overstep. Things are . . .” I struggle to finish my thought.

“Wyatt isn’t handling things well, is he?” Grace takes a guess.

“No.”

She sighs and folds her hands. “I was afraid of that.”

“Why?”

Grace leans back in the chair and worries her lip. “We’ve all been close our whole lives. You don’t grow up in a town like this and not know everyone. Wyatt has always been the strongest of the Hennington boys. Zach and Trent have always relied on him in ways that many don’t see. Sure, Trent is supposed to be the law, and Zach was the star athlete with the girl of his dreams.” She waves her hand as if those two points don’t really mean much. “But Wyatt has been their rock. He stood back, watched them do what they do, and supported everyone. He’s the fixer. He’s the man who pushes them through all the messes they make. Now though, he can’t fix this. He can’t give you back what you lost, what he feels like he caused.”

“He’s not worried about fixing me.” I look away. “He’s too busy breaking me apart.”

Grace rests her arms on the table and takes my hand in hers. “I can see that. I don’t think he knows how to deal with that. You know what I mean?”

I do know what she’s saying. But I don’t know what to do about it. “Can we talk about something else? Please?”

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly.

“Nothing to apologize for, Grace. I need a break from my life. Tell me, how are you and Trent?”

“Trent.” Grace shakes her head and looks away. “I have spent my entire life waiting for the man to love me. It’s hard when you love someone like I love Trent. He’s hurt me so many times, but I can’t walk away from him. Even now.”

“What’s changed?”

“Cooper.”

I know that I have big issues in my own life, but for this minute . . . it feels good to talk about something else. I’m not worrying about all the shit rattling around in my own head, I can maybe help someone else.

“Do you like him that way?” I ask. The last thing I would want is Presley’s brother to get caught up in a love triangle.

Grace nods. “I really do. I never saw him that way. He was always my best friend’s brother.” She sighs. “Now though, I can’t stop thinkin’ about him. He keeps asking me out, but I can’t find a way to say yes.”

“Can I offer my advice?”

Her hand grips mine. “Please, I’ve been going crazy not havin’ anyone to talk to. I can’t talk to Presley about this, it’s her brother and then a Hennington. Emily, who you met once, is too busy bein’ a big country music singer . . . I could use a friend.”

I place my hand over hers. “If you think that Trent Hennington isn’t going to change his ways, then you follow your heart. Cooper is a good man. I don’t think he’d risk his friendship, family, and his heart if he wasn’t serious about you. A man fights for the woman he loves.”

And that right there is the problem I’m having. Wyatt isn’t fighting.

He’s letting me go.

He’s watching me drift away out to sea.

I’m losing him every day that passes, and it’s destroying me.

“E
VERYTHING IS HEALING NICELY, ANGIE.
I’d like you to take it easy for another week or so. No heavy lifting, and then we’ll start physical therapy for your wrist in about two weeks when we remove the cast,” the doctor explains. “Do you have any questions?”