Page 48 of I Found You
My shoulder shook, waking me slowly. “Maeve, wake up. I have to go. Jane’s in her bounce chair.” Wyatt was standing over me where I lay on the sofa, still wrapped in the comforter from the spare room.
I grunted a reply as my heart rate spiked. Nausea roiled in my stomach, anxiety taking control of my body. I kept my eyes closed, like a little kid who thought that if you couldn’t see them, then they must not be able to see you. I wished that were true right now.
“Maeve,” he called again.
“I’m up.”
I heard him sigh heavily, and a second later, he was walking toward the door. It clicked shut behind him without another word. I thought I would be able to breathe easier without him standing over me, but apparently, I was wrong. The air felt too thick around me, making it hard to fill my lungs. I checked on Jane, sleeping soundly in her chair, and closed my eyes.
I must have fallen back asleep because the next thing I knew, a screaming baby was blasting my eardrums out. Memories of last night flooded through me. Heat trailed over my skin, starting in the center of my chest and traveling up to my face. Thank goodness Wyatt wasn’t here right now. I didn’t think I could face him yet. And based on the way my body was reacting to just the thoughts of him, I wasn’t sure when Iwould be able to face him again.
Replaying the events of last night in the morning light wasn’t doing me any favors, so I rolled onto the floor and scooped Jane up, changing her diaper and pajamas before getting her a bottle. She was starting to look a lot better, and her cries were strong—very strong, apparently.
Everything from my woeful attempt at a date night was still out. I threw away the toppings and the carbonara that had been sitting on the stovetop all night. My panties, which I completely forgot about, were on the coffee table, placed on top of my notebook. Wyatt must have turned to a new page in the notebook where I kept ideas for my lesson plans. His scraggly handwriting took up the whole page, not because he had a lot to say but because he was writing so large and slanted.
“We need to talk,” it read. With Jane held against me in one arm and her empty bottle in the other, I sank down to the sofa, rereading his words over and over again.
What, specifically, did he want to talk about?
Was he afraid that I would think this was more than it was?
Did he want to tell me that it was a mistake and would never be repeated again?
He would probably stop coming by here to hang out now. It would just be awkward if he showed up like nothing happened, right?
If that was what he wanted, I could do it. I could pretend that he didn’t make my blood run hot. That I didn’t fantasize about him constantly. That my entire being didn’t shatter last night and put itself back together in the most torturously exquisite orgasm in my life. Well, I knew I could do the first two. I had been doing that for weeks already. But that lastone might be a bit trickier. But if it meant that I could still have Wyatt in my life, I would figure it out. I didn’t want to lose him.
After I finished the dishes, I plugged my phone in upstairs in my bedroom to charge and put Jane down so I could take a shower. She really was looking a lot better. Her coloring was healthier, and her appetite was back. The doctor said it could take up to seven to fourteen days, but a lot of the time, improvements could be seen in just a few days. I was hoping beyond hope that Jane was one of those cases that only took a few days. I tried to focus all of my thoughts on Jane, but honestly, I was failing miserably.
Wyatt had my heart in a vise grip, and he didn’t even know it. I wanted to tell him how I felt about him, but he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested that night at his dad’s house. Could his feelings have changed? When he didn’t show up, without so much as a text, I knew that this was a one-sided feeling. Which was fine. So fine. He didn’t owe me anything. He wasn’t obligated to like me back just because I was foolish enough to start falling for him.
It was seriously ridiculous to even think that he might. I let his feelings for Jane be confused for feelings for me. He came by my house every day, not to hang out with me but because he was attached to the most precious little girl. I was just a chubby schoolteacher with very little experience and an obsession with dresses. It wasn’t that I was putting myself down. I was just being honest with myself. I knew what I looked like. There were men out there that would find me attractive. But Wyatt Wilder? Even I knew that was a ridiculous notion. He had girls like Andrea Petit lining up for him, tall, thin, beautiful blonde, wavy hair, perfect makeup.He didn’t even just have girls like her; he’d had her already. What would he see in a woman like me? And to top it off, I was apparently so undersexed that a little rough and tumble fun time had me bleeding on his cock. Absolutely mortifying.
He was drunk last night—that was the only explanation for what happened. Oh my goodness! Did I take advantage of him in a drunken state? He may have made the first move with that sexy-as-sin wrist grab and spin me up against a wall move, but I was the one who kissed him first. I was the one who took things to the next level when I got on my knees for him.
Just thinking about his cock in my hands, in my mouth, had me worked up. I could still feel every place he touched on my body. The soreness in between my thighs was a reminder of the way he manhandled my body to be exactly where he wanted me to be. I loved every single second of it at the time. But in hindsight, I felt nothing but shame.
That wasn’t like me to lose control like that. And he wasn’t even sober. Was he so drunk that he didn’t even really remember it? No. He definitely wasn’t that drunk. He didn’t even seem drunk at all, except for the fact that he allowed me to have my way with him and him with me. That was a pretty clear indicator that he wasn’t exactly thinking straight.
I put on a pair of sweat shorts and a T-shirt, not really feeling up for one of my summer dresses. My phone was still charging by my nightstand. When I unplugged it, missed call notifications lit up the screen. Four of them. My heart beat faster as I swiped into the call log. One missed call from Jackson, one missed call from Kara, and two missed calls from Wyatt, not entirely in that order. My phone wasn’t usually this busy, so I hadn’t thought anything about it when Ileft it upstairs in my bedroom. But now that I saw the three missed calls from my guys, I was a little panicky. Well, not my guys.
What if something had happened to Jackson or Wyatt at the garage? It was odd for either of them to call me during a workday. Wyatt was more of a texter, and Jackson was more of a silent type. I called Jackson back first. He didn’t answer. Pacing around my room wasn’t going to calm me down, so I went back downstairs to check on Jane while I waited for him to call me back. She was still awake, just hanging out in her favorite spot, not a care in the world.
After a few more minutes, I figured I should call Kara back while I waited. She answered on the second ring with an upbeat “Hello, Kara Dawson here.”
“Hey, Kara, it’s Maeve Graham. Sorry I missed your call earlier. I was in the shower. What’s going on?”
She went on to ask if we could reschedule our routine check-in appointment because she had a conflict with another case. We quickly found another date and time that would work for both of us. We chatted for a few minutes about Jane’s recovery. Of course, she was happy to hear that she was already on the mend. After I hung up with Kara, Jackson had still not called me back. Should I call Wyatt? I really didn’t want to. I wasn’t ready to face whatever it was that he wanted to talk about. Especially not over the phone. Especially not when I knew my brother was listening in on his half of the conversation.
Still contemplating my choices and overall life decisions, I was getting ready to put my sneakers on to head over to the garage and just make sure everyone was okay when my phone rang again. Jackson.
“Hey, what’s going on? Is everyone alright?” I asked him hurriedly.
He whisper-hissed his response, as if he didn’t want anyone to overhear him. “Have you talked to Wyatt this morning?”
I froze. The silence was thick with my fear. After what was probably far too long of a wait, I asked, “No, why?”
“He left here yesterday with his brother and said he would be coming back. But he never did, so I locked up. I swear I did. Everything was fine when I left yesterday.”
