Page 17 of I Found You
“That’s awful.” Wyatt’s expression was a storm cloud of emotions.
“It wasn’t great,” I agreed. “I ended up getting guardianship of Jackson as soon as I turned eighteen. He was eight. He is such a great kid and so smart. But he drives me crazy sometimes. I know he’s drinking and smoking, and kids do those things. It’s part of growing up, for some people anyway. But does he not see the road ahead? What it can lead to?” I shook my head. I didn’t know what I would do if Jackson went too far down that path. “I try so hard with him, but he’s fine just working odd hours at a dead-end job, barely making enough money to cover the rent at the apartment. I wanted him to move in here with me. He could save some money. Heck, I would save some money, maybe work on the house a bit, but…”
Jane started fussing in her bounce chair, pulling me from my thoughts. The reality of everything that I just shared, and with whom I shared it, hit me like a freight train. Mortified, I covered my face with my hands. “Oh my goodness. I am so sorry for unloading that on you. And right after you told me about your mom. I was not trying to out-sad you, I swear.” I tried to jump up so that I could get Jane’s bottle ready and put some distance between us, but Wyatt’s hand came around my bicep and tugged me back down to sitting. “I have to get Jane’s bottle,” I told him.
“She fussed, Maeve. She’s not wailing. I think she can wait another fifteen seconds.” His face was full of concern, staring at me so intensely it was like he could see directly into my mind. “We are not comparing our fucking traumas. I lost my mom, and that sucks. It hurts. And what you went through with your mom, that’s awful. You are allowed to feel sad, and betrayed, and fucking pissed about the unfairness of it all.”
I pulled my arm from his soft hold to stand. “Yeah, thanks. I’m, uh, just going to get Jane her bottle.” What the hell was wrong with me? I had this beautiful man in my house. This man who had stood up for me earlier, who wanted to help me get some rest, so he took the baby for a walk. And I’d unleashed decades of pent-up trauma on the poor man. I’d never be seeing Wyatt Wilder again, and honestly, it was probably for the best. I didn’t think I could face him again anyway.
As I busied around the kitchen getting Jane’s bottle ready, Wyatt held her close, talking to her. He offered to feed her again, but I didn’t feel right, making him do it. He’d done enough just by listening to me all night.
Wyatt handed Jane over to me and immediately started to clean up the mess from dinner.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll get it.” I hurried over to stop him.
“Maeve, I’ve got this. I can help.” His dark eyes were like a black hole, pulling me into their depths. All I could do was nod.
I sat on the sofa, feeding Jane while Wyatt finished cleaning up the plates and putting the leftover pizza in the fridge. He even washed the forks we used for the salad.
“Wes just pulled up, so I’m going to get out of your hairnow. Have a good night, ladies.” He ran his hand across the top of Jane’s head, using his thumb to swipe across her forehead, and then he leaned in and kissed her right where his hand had been. To my astonishment, he straightened and did the exact same thing to me, thumb-forehead swipe and all. A kiss to the top of my head.
My eyes closed, and my throat had to work hard to swallow past the lump that formed in it. Could he tell how much he affected me?
I tracked him as he made his way out the door, locking the handle so that when the door closed, we would be safe from the outside world, and I wondered who would be so lucky to be able to call him theirs one day.
8
Wyatt
I pulled up in front of Maeve’s house, but it didn’t look like she was home. No answer when I knocked on her door. Five minutes. I told myself I would wait for five minutes before I left. But five turned into ten, then fifteen.
The paint on her siding was itching to be scraped off from where I sat on her front steps. I had a bucket of small tools in my truck that belonged to Reid. He was a handyman by trade, but building his business as a master carpenter was his goal. As alike as Reid and I could be in our disposition, his artistic talents were something he shared with Lydia. A part of our mom that only the two of them inherited.
Did he leave a scraper in there?
I checked my truck. Yup. Might as well kill time being busy. It beat just sitting around.
Maeve pulled into the driveway about twenty minutes later while I was scraping the paint off the window trim. I put down the tools to greet her and Jane. As soon as she got Jane out of the car, I pulled her from Maeve’s arms, scratching my beard against Jane’s neck. It made her smile, which made mesmile.
“What are you doing here?” Maeve asked. She leaned around me, glancing at her house and then back to me.
“Just wanted to come by and check on Jane.”
“But what’s all that?” she asked skeptically.
“I was just killing time. I’ll finish it though. I’m not going to leave it half-done like that.” I wiped the sweat off my neck.
“Wyatt, you don’t have to do that. I’ll figure it out.” She was shaking her head back and forth, her hair falling out of the messy bun on the top of her head. She was still in her pajamas with a pair of flip-flops on her feet.
“Did you have to run out? Everything okay?”
“Oh.” Her hand immediately went to her hair, smoothing the loose pieces back. “I was about to jump in the shower when Jackson called and needed a ride to work. He usually walks to work, but he spent the night at a friend’s house, so he needed a ride today.”
“The friend couldn’t give him a ride?” The fuck kind of a friend was that?
Maeve just shrugged, like she was used to this.
“You can jump in the shower if you want. I can hang out with Jane.” Bluish-gray eyes looked up at me, her chubby little arms spread wide open where she rested on my forearm.
