Page 45 of Silver Lining Love

It looked like my party-of-five trip home might turn into a table for one situation.

19

WYATT

“Sometimes all a cold shoulder needs is a hug to warm it up.” ~ Gamma Mary

I’d never been happier to pull up in my driveway in my life. The last two hours at Chubs had felt like twenty-four. Between the circling of single vultures who had cornered me every chance they got and Whitney barely speaking to me, the time had dragged on like an eternity.

When I cut the engine and glanced in the rearview mirror, I saw that Benji was already out like a light in the backseat. So was Alice. Today had been a big day and their sleep schedule had gotten all messed up. Michael was staying the night at one of his teammate’s houses and I was going to pick him up in the morning.

“Are you going to do baths or just put them down?” I asked, wondering if we should wake them or try to keep them asleep as we carried them in.

Whitney turned her head toward me, her expression completely blank as she blinked twice. “Huh?”

She’d been staring out of the window the entire drive home.

“Alice and Benji, they’re out.” I motioned to the backseat. “Do you want to wake them up for baths or?—"

“Oh, um, I’ll just put them down.”

I lifted Alice out of her booster seat and her head automatically laid on my shoulder causing my heart to expand. I’d had no idea that something was missing in my life, but these kids and Whitney had shown me that there was.

Whitney got Benji out of his car seat and we carried them inside in silence. The house was dark and quiet as I followed her down the hallway. I was turning into Michael and Alice’s room when Whitney whispered, “Since Michael is gone, I don’t want her to wake up and be scared. Just put her in my bed.”

I nodded and went to the next door. After I laid Alice down on Whitney’s bed, I pulled the throw blanket over her and tucked it around her. Her blonde curls were fanned out on the bed, her mouth was wide open, and she was snoring softly. Today must have really worn her out.

Whitney walked out of the closet/Benji’s room and didn’t say a word to me. Her gaze was blank and impossible to read.

“Can we talk?” I whispered.

She continued staring at me, her expression unchanging for so long that I thought she may not have heard me. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she sighed and dipped her chin in a slight nod of agreement. I could see, even in the dim lighting, that she wasn’t happy about the prospect of a conversation with me.

On the way out, I grabbed the monitor so we could hear if either of the munchkins woke up. She left the room first and I quietly shut the door behind me. It wasn’t easy to do because it stuck thanks to a warped door frame. I’d offered to fix it a thousand times, but Whitney said that she liked it because then she’d know if someone was breaking in to kill her. That had been before the kids came to live with her. Maybe I should offer to fix it again. Not tonight, though. Something told me any help I offered her tonight would be shut down.

As we walked down the hallway to the front room, my mind was spinning with what could have caused the one-eighty she’d done. The only thing I could think of was that she regretted what we’d done the night before. She was having second thoughts.

If that was the case, I wanted to clear the air right away. Although I did have feelings for her, I would put them aside and just be whatever it was she needed from me, even if that meant staying firmly in the friend zone.

It wasn’t a place I’d ever been put before, but there was a first time for everything. And my feelings weren’t what mattered here. Whitney, Alice, Michael, and Benji were the people that needed support, love, and care. And I would give them that unconditionally in whatever capacity Whitney felt comfortable with.

She turned the corner of the hall and my eyes dropped down to her hips and over the perfect curves that were showcased in those damn jeans. Now I knew exactly what having those perfect curves in the palm of my hands felt like.

Shit.I was getting hard just thinking about it. That was not the way I should be going into this conversation where I was pretty sure she was going to tell me that last night was a mistake.

She sat down in the corner of the couch and placed a pillow over her lap. It was subtle but a very protective posture.

I lowered down into the armchair across from her and set the monitor on the coffee table.

“What’s up?” There was more than a tinge of confrontation in her tone.

“I wanted to talk to you about last night.”

“Okay.” Her defensiveness was palpable.

“How are you feeling about it?”

I waited for her to respond but she didn’t right away. When she did speak, it was exactly what I’d been scared to hear.

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