Say You Want Me (28 page)

“Open the damn door, you asshole!” Presley yells from the other side of the front door.

Maybe she’ll go away.

“Goddamn it, Wyatt Hennington!” she screams.

I sit up and drop my head into my hands. I don’t need this right now.

“I know you’re in there.” She kicks the door.

This won’t end well. I get up and open the door to find her staring at me with so much anger in her eyes it forces me to step back. “Good morning, Cowgirl.”

“Don’t!” Her small hands push against my chest. “Don’t talk! I will beat the shit out of you with my bare hands. I can’t even believe you right now.
Who are you?
Do you think you’re the only man who’s dealt with loss? Do you think at all? No. I don’t think you do! I can’t believe you said those things to her! I can’t believe you just let her walk away!” Presley rants and yells as she continues to hit me.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“You’ve got to be kidding!” She shoots straight to rage.

“Presley.” I sigh. “I have no clue why you’re yellin’ at me.”

“Look around, Wyatt. Look around your house, and let me know what you see, you stupid idiot.”

I take a second and try to place what I thought was off. Everything is like I remember it, except it’s not. The photo of Presley and Angie that sat on the mantle is gone. The quilt that Angie brought from home, which was draped over the back of the couch, is missing. Little things that she put out aren’t there.

My feet move to the bedroom, and I throw open the closet. It’s all gone. There’s no clothes hanging. I rush to the bathroom to find all her girly crap is gone too. She’s gone.

Then I remember what happened when I got home. It comes in chunks, but I recall the fight. The way she begged me, and how I put the final nail in the coffin. I made her think I never felt anything for her.

I lied.

And she’s really gone.

In my head, I knew this was coming. It’s the life she wanted, so I was trying to give her a reason to let me go. Hurting her went against everything I stand for, but keeping her here was selfish. She thought she loved me. I know she loved her life before me. When we lost Faith, there was no reason for her to stay.

I saw the goodbye as soon as she opened her eyes in that hospital room.

I just helped her get there faster.

“Yeah.” Presley leans against the door with her arms crossed. “Good job.”

“She was leaving anyway.” I try to cover the pain in my voice.

“No, Wyatt. She wasn’t.”

“I saw it!” My voice rises as the self-hate flows through me. “I gave her the out she wanted.”

Presley stalks into my room until she’s right in front of me. “I’ve never seen her cry like that. Never. Not over losing her brother, not because of the hateful shit her mother says, not even over losing Faith. Not once have I seen my best friend so broken. She couldn’t talk. She couldn’t breathe. She was curled in a ball asking what she should do.” Her green eyes shine with disgust. “After I finally got her calmed down, she told me what you said. So I told her to walk away and get on that plane. I know you, Wyatt. I know who you are, and this . . .” She huffs. “This isn’t who you are. But you lost her. Good job, buddy. I hope this was what your master plan was. I really thought you loved her. I thought you were just in pain and lashing out. Turns out I was wrong.”

“I do love her!” I yell. “I love her so much I let her have what she wanted. I killed myself in the process! So, fuck you, Presley! You don’t know what the hell I’ve been going through!” I let it out and sink onto the bed and grip my head. “You have no idea!”

“No?” she asks with an edge to her voice. “I lost
everything
once! I found my husband hanging from a beam in my bathroom while my two kids were downstairs. I’ve dealt with losing someone. Don’t you dare tell me I don’t have an idea.”

It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t have the loss at her own hands. I did. That’s the part that no one else can ever tell me how I should feel about. I watched her lose that baby. I was driving the car. I was the one who should’ve gotten her out sooner.

Letting her go is the least I can do for her.

“Were you responsible for that?” I push back. “Because I was.”

She shakes her head. “Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware that you can control what deer do? I didn’t know you were the goddamn animal whisperer! All this time I thought that you were a regular guy. My bad.” Presley snorts. “Or maybe you are actually related to the God of weather? It must be your fault then since you’re magical. My God, must you really be this stupid?”

“It was my fucking fault!” I yell.

“No. None of that was your fault. The only thing that is your fault, is what you did after. You drove her away. You broke her heart so that you could go on actin’ like a jackass! Well, good job there, you sure accomplished your goal.”

My stomach drops as the truth hits me in the face. She’s right. I didn’t lose Angie. I made her go. I did whatever I could to make her leave me. But if she’d stayed here, would it have been what she really wanted?

She once said she didn’t want to marry me out of obligation. I didn’t want her to stay for the same reason.

“It’s for the best.” I try to assure myself.

She snorts as she shakes her head. “You know what? You’re right. You don’t deserve her.”

“I know.”

Presley’s jaw drops open. “You really believe that? You think because of some accident that you don’t deserve happiness?”

“I believe a man does what’s best for a woman he loves. I think she loved me because she thought she had to. I would’ve married her, Pres. I wanted to. And then she made a few comments about when she was going back home.”

She sinks onto the bed next to me, runs her hands over her face, and then slaps the back of my head. “You’re so dense.”

“How would I have known any different? How would we know if what we had was real?
She
didn’t even know.”

“The same way that you’ll know what to do if you want to fix this.” She pats my thigh. “And I don’t even know if you can. You really screwed up. You’ve broken someone who’s never let anyone have that ability. Getting back in . . .” Presley gets to her feet, moves toward the door, and then stops. “Listen, I’ve done and said stupid shit when I was in pain. I’m not judging you. I’m just going to tell you that a measure of a man is how he handles himself after he’s hurt the one he loves. If you’re the man that I know you to be, then you’re going to have to stop your self-sacrificing bullshit and love her with no reservations. Don’t hold back, Wyatt. We’re not guaranteed a damn thing in life. If you find someone you love, hold on to that person, because it could be gone the next day. I think you and I know a thing or two about that.”

Presley walks out the door, leaving me to think about what she said.

I didn’t want to hear it. I knew—I thought I knew—what she wanted. The last thing I wanted to do was hold Angie back. Losing our daughter was the loophole she needed. So I did what I always do . . . I convinced myself that if I loved her, I had to let her go. How could I have been so blind?

Now I don’t know if I can ever get her back.

I fucked up.

Bad.

Angie

“W
HAT DO YOU THINK?” ERIN
asks again. It’s been a rough two weeks since I came back to Philly, but Erin is happy to have me back. She’s been in my ear every day about looking at new properties. I figured there was no point in holding off, so today she’s dragging me around to check out new locations.

“It’s fine.”

Erin steps in front of me. “You’ve said that about every single place. One of them was a dump.”

“Because whatever you pick is fine, Er.”

My heart isn’t in anything. It’s back in Bell Buckle being trampled.

When I got home, I thought it would only take a few days to get settled back into life. I had no idea it would feel like my insides have shriveled up. Nothing feels the same. Not even Starbucks tastes good. Nothing does. I miss the fresh air, rolling hills, and that hardheaded asshole. More than that, I hate that Faith is buried there, and I’m here. I can’t go see her. I can’t talk to her on that hill.

I’m more alone now than I was before.

My body isn’t healing. I’m achy, unable to eat, and all I want to do is sleep.

“Angie, I’m worried about you.” She places her hand on my arm. “I think maybe you should talk to someone?”

“I’m just sad.”

“I can’t say I understand, because I’ve never been through it, but I’ll listen.” She’s sweet. It’s why I brought her on. Not only is she smart, but she really does have a heart of gold.

“I appreciate it.”

The truth is, I don’t want to talk. There’s nothing left to say. I fell in love with a man who didn’t love me. If he had, he would’ve shown it. I needed him. Sure he was there physically, but he checked out every other way.

If I’d stayed, nothing would’ve changed. He showed me that.

It’s been fourteen days and not one single word.

I’ve fought myself from calling or texting him, but I vowed to put my mangled heart back in my chest and hoped it would beat again. I don’t think that will happen if I call him and hear his voice.

“Want to grab something to eat?” Erin asks.

“I’m not hungry.”

“Angie.” She sighs. “You’re miserable here.”

I’m miserable in general. Who knew that heartbreak could hurt so bad? I always thought people were just dramatic. I never could grasp how they couldn’t move on when a relationship didn’t work out. Now, I get it. I
so
get it.

“I feel like I’ve lost everything.” I say. “I know I haven’t. I mean, I have the store, you, Presley and the boys back there. I’m sure I’ll snap out of it.”

“Have you thought about calling him?”

Every. Fucking. Day. “I made it perfectly clear how I felt. He did the same.”

I promised Presley I would definitely see her in a few months. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to do it, but I’ll be at her wedding. Somehow, I’ll find a way to get there and be fine when I see him.

I’m guessing copious amounts of alcohol will be consumed.

“I hate this for you.” Erin’s sweet voice tries to comfort me. “I don’t want to push you if you’re not ready.”

When I lost the baby, Erin became extremely understanding. She explained that she really wanted to move forward, but as time went on, she got it. I think it had a lot to do with the guy she’s falling head over heels for, but I won’t point that out. She’s happy, and I’m happy for her.

I look around at the empty space, thinking that it represents how I feel. I’m vacant inside. “Well, we don’t have to do anything if we don’t want to. It’s kind of a great place to be. The store is really self-sufficient with the new manager. If we want to expand, we can, or we can keep it as is.”

Erin’s phone rings, and by the smile on her face, I know it’s the guy she’s seeing. She puts her finger up to say one minute, and I step outside and onto the sidewalk. It’s a really great spot and is closer to downtown than our other store. It’s also closer to my apartment. Media isn’t far from me, but I’d love to have the option to walk to work if I want.

I take a step back and bump into someone. “I’m so sorry!” I start to say, but my eyes meet someone I know.

“Angie?” Nate smiles.

“Nate. Hi!”

“You’re back.” He steps forward and pulls me into his arms. “I’ve been wondering how you were doing.” He glances to my stomach, which should have been very pregnant. Last time he heard from me, I was knocked up and leaving for Tennessee.

“There was an accident,” I explain before he can ask.

Nate stands there with sadness in his eyes as I give him the cliff notes of what led me back here. He takes my arm and leads me over to a bench when I start to choke up. We sit, and I do my best not to lose it.

“I’m truly sorry, Ang.” Nate shakes his head. “Are you and the guy . . .”

I shrug, knowing exactly what he’s too hesitant to finish asking. “He was driving and took it hard.”

He nods. “Guilt is a hard thing to live with. I see it with the parents a lot. They feel like it was something they did during their pregnancy or genetics. It tears apart a lot of relationships.”

“I guess. Enough about me. What about you? Seeing anyone special?”

Nate chuckles. “I’ve yet to find that girl who can put up with my need to always work. I struggle with guilt as well. When I’m at home, I think about the patients I could be helping.”

We talk a little more about what I’ve missed, which is nothing really. He tells me about some of the kids he’s been working with and how he lost one recently. It’s the truth when I make a comment that some girl is going to kick herself for not finding him sooner.

“Tell me about—” he starts to say, but his phone goes off. “Excuse me a minute.”

Nate stands and speaks quickly to the person on the other line. I think about how different this conversation could’ve gone if I hadn’t gotten pregnant. Would we be sitting and having a lunch date? Would we even still have been seeing each other? I want him to find someone and be happy, and I don’t think I was ever that girl for him. Nate is a lot like I am when it comes to keeping himself safe. He “dates” girls who aren’t serious and becomes more of a friend than a lover.