Page 23 of Ever After All

One of the things I loved about her—I truly did love her, even if I knew she wasn’t ready for it yet — was that she wasn’t one for playing games. She wouldn’t leave me on read, and she wouldn’t delay a response. She would respond when she could, and if there was a delay, it was because she was busy.

I was lucky this night. I only had to wait seven minutes. Not that I was counting.

Rosie: I’m just finishing up a shift at the hospital. I’ll be heading home in about 15 minutes. Where should I meet you?

Me: Your place or mine? Your call.

I watched as the dots appeared and smiled to myself. I could literally feel the wheels of her brain turning as she weighed the pros and cons of the options.

Rosie: My place. 20 minutes.

Me: I thought you said 15?

Rosie: Sigh. I’m leaving here in 15 minutes and have to drive home.

Me: That’s five extra minutes I have to wait. Forgive me for my impatience. ??

Rosie: Forgiven.

What I typed next was impulsive, but I didn’t regret it.

Chapter Twelve

Rosie

Wyatt: For the record, I’m in love with you.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod!”

Fortunately, I was the only person in my car to hear myself. I was freaking the hell out.

I hadn’t forgotten that Wyatt had whispered that he’d loved me in the heat of the moment. My little heart desperately wanted it to be true, but I could chalk that up to being overcome by lust. Maybe. Or if I could scrounge up the courage, I could admit I was all up in my feels when it came to Wyatt.

I had to force myself to actually breathe. I felt a little lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. Denial was a safe space, at least when it came to feelings. When I got some oxygen to my brain, I contemplated Wyatt and feelings and me, and why I always shied away from letting myself think too deeply about anyone.

I remember when I was in high school, and I had this crush on a boy. My dad had sat me down and told me I would have crushes on people and not to be afraid. He’d told me that the expression “it was better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all” was something he believed deeply. He’d said he missed my mom but would never regret loving her.

The little girl in me who hadn’t known what to do when my mom was just gone one day, especially after a day that was supposed to be so exciting, had been extremely skeptical about this. Dad had come home with my baby brother, and I’d never seen my mother again. I knew now, in the clear light of adulthood and as an ER nurse, that the medical team had valiantly tried to keep her alive. Yet once what started in her happened, it was like a ball rolling down a hill. There were no brakes to stop it. The medical team would’ve thrown one thing after another in the way, hoping and praying she’d somehow pull through. In the end, none of those things could staunch the bleeding.

I was scared of caring too much for anyone. I was terrified to fall in love. I was afraid to have anyone matter that much. My father had seemed desolate in the aftermath of my mother’s death, but he’d pulled himself together. I’d been a little girl who hadn’t known how to absorb the shock of it and the aftershocks that still rippled through my life from that loss.

I was also afraid to think seriously about the idea of commitment and family because I loved babies. I wanted a family, but I was utterly terrified to have a baby. I didn’t even know how to have a conversation with someone about the depth of my fear. It felt like a chasm I couldn’t cross.

I’d seen a therapist when I was a little girl and then again after I started nursing school and came to an understanding of what had actually happened to my mother. I recalled the therapist pointing out that my job illuminated something that could maybe help ease my fear. That life was truly random, and so many other things could happen. Intellectually, I understood that, but the emotional little girl inside me who’d lost her mom was still so very frightened.

Having Wyatt just lay his feelings out there blew my mind. I also recognized the courage it took for him to do that. Beyond the gossip circulating about the Cannon family, the family could be seen as lucky because they had so much wealth. Yet they shared a tangled and painful history. It was all very messy, and I had been McKenna’s friend through most of it. My home had been a safe place for her.

Wyatt was boldly and courageously putting his heart right out there for me, and I was terrified. I’d known nothing but love growing up. My father was the best father I could imagine, somehow pulling himself together and doing the best he could to take care of me and Brent when we were growing up. Even though the pain of my mother’s loss was still a sharp ache, my only memories of her were loving and warm.

Wyatt’s text bounced around in my thoughts as I drove home from work. When I got home, I glanced at the clock on my dashboard. Wyatt would probably be here in a few minutes. My eyes arced through the trees toward the main house. My brother’s car wasn’t there. My worry was like a reflex when it came to him.

Shoving those worries away, I turned off my car. I climbed out and rounded to the passenger side to get my backpack and purse. Just as I was closing the door, a pair of headlights illuminated me. I glanced toward the head of the driveway to recognize the shape of Wyatt’s truck. There were plenty of trucks in Fireweed Harbor, yet I knew this one belonged to Wyatt. My heart began pounding hard and fast in my chest.

I waited because it seemed silly to rush inside. A moment later, he had parked beside my car and climbed out. I had taken a step back and could feel the cool metal of my car behind me.

“Hey, Rosie,” Wyatt said, his voice a little rumbly.

I had to clear my throat to even speak. Heat buffeted me like the rush of a fire when the wind blew. “Hey!” I squeaked.

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