Page 15 of Sweet Summer

“Wyatt! Didn’t know you’d be here tonight. Hey, Freya, how are ya?”

Well, bless their hearts. We can thank Dub and a few other members of the fire department for the interruption of that magical moment. I really hope their timing is better when they have to put out a real fire.

Wyatt stands up to attention like a shot. “Hey, guys, didn’t expect to see you here.”

I stand up beside Wyatt, who walks a few steps away and is talking to Jack, while I say hello to Dub. “You guys here for the movie tonight?”

Dub nods, his silver hair shining as it reflects the lights in the park. “Jack was on call so we walked down for a bit. Fingers crossed it’s a quiet couple of days. Holidays can get crazy and fireworks never help the situation.”

“I bet. Will you be on hand with the safety crew for the fireworks display tomorrow?”

“Nah. I’ll be there for a bit as an observer, but then I’m going to that party. Didn’t Wyatt tell you?”

I shake my head, confused. “No. What are you talking about?”

“I thought Wyatt would have told you we‘re all going over to Dylan’s for the fireworks tomorrow night. He’s been helping her organize her party nonstop the last few days.”

“What? No, Wyatt didn’t tell me that was happening.”

“Wyatt didn’t tell you what?” Wyatt’s chosen the perfect moment to walk up behind me.

I spin around, putting a hand on my hip. “That you’ve been planning a party with your friend Dyls the last few days?”

Wyatt’s face clouds over as he crosses his arms across hischest, like he’s closing himself off to me. “Did Dub tell you that?” He cuts his eyes at the burly, older fireman.

“Me?” Clearing his throat, Dub’s hand flies to his chest, his index finger pointing to himself. “And…that’s my cue to leave. See you guys later.” Dub throws up a salute as he and Jack walk off, but I’m too busy and too focused to acknowledge either one of them.

“Yes, Dub told me, but that’s not the point.”

Wyatt rubs the side of his face. “I’m confused. Why are you calling her Dyls?”

“That’s a red herring. We both know I’m calling her Dyls because it’s not her name, it’s my attempt at being acerbic. Were you going to invite me to go?” I can hear it: my voice cracks, threatening to reveal my feelings before I’m ready or have a plan for it. “You’ve told me how she’s just a friend, but Dub said you’ve been busy the last few days helping her with this party. You also told me you’ve been busy the last few days at the firehouse…even going so far as to tell me you took an extra shift. What’s going on?”

“Freya, I’d help any of my friends set up for a party. It’s not a big deal.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, which is his tell for when he’s lying. Oh, Wyatt Hogan, I know you too well.

“You’re not telling me the whole truth, Wyatt.” It’s my turn to cross my arms. “You didn’t answer my question. Were you going to invite me to go with you to Dylan’s tomorrow night?”

I watch and wait. He shifts weight again to the other side. He knows that I know and the look on his face tells me I’m right.

“No.”

My stomach sinks with surprise and sadness. “No?”

“No, but I can explain why.” He steps forward and reaches out for my hand, but I take a step back. Defensive habit, Iguess, but I’m feeling a little let down. Honestly, between the sudden burst of feelings I’ve had for Wyatt and getting to the point where I enlist my aunt to help me win him over with food is a big—no, scratch that—ginormousleap for me. And, since I’m being honest, I’m feeling a little stupid that I got excited about the fact I might have a chance with Wyatt. Stupid may be too strong a word, but I’m definitely feeling more vulnerable right now than I did when we were having a tickle fight in the middle of a packed park a few moments before.

My, how things can change on a dime.

All of this leads me to one thought: I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to go home, and I’m not even sure where home is at this point. Do I want to go to my apartment in New York or back to my grandmother’s, where Maisey is?

And it hits me. I want to be where Wyatt is because that’s home. But it seems like he doesn’t feel the same way. So what do mature independent women like me do in times like this?

We. Retreat.

I bend over and start gathering up the empty plates and cutlery strewn around the blanket, packing everything back into the basket. “I don’t need to hear your reasoning, Wyatt. I think I’m just really tired and have had a lot on my mind the last few days, so I’m going to go home.”

I can feel his eyes boring a hole in my back. “Freya, if you give me a chance, I can explain. I don’t want you to be upset.”

“I’m not upset, I’m disappointed.” I stop what I’m doing long enough to face him. “I’ve been in the middle of a giant decision, weighing options and taking stock of the people I love and want to be around, and trying to figure out where I’m going to live. It’s not as easy of a pick as I thought it would be. And being here—in Lake Lorelei, where I love to be—is making things more confusing. Just earlier today, I was thinking my choice was to stay?—”

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