Page 56 of Ridin' Solo
He just shrugged. “What? Your grandpa Tom said the same thing to me the first time I took your mother on a date. Kept me on the straight and narrow.”
With that, he left to help Mom. I chuckled while still crying, wondering how I could find something so wonderful while my heart was also breaking. Before I could square away in my head a world in which my father said I should bend the rules and then offered to off my boyfriend—or ex-partner-slash-secret lover-slash-biggest mistake—in the next breath, Mom came around the corner in a whirlwind of worry and Tupperware.
“What are you doing up, darling?” She shooed me back into my bedroom, fluffing my pillows and making sure I was comfortable under a mountain of blankets before placing a piping hot dish of fettuccine on my lap.
I swirled my fork and took a bite, nearly groaning at the flavors bursting in my mouth. Nobody made pasta like Mom. “Thank you. I didn’t even realize I was hungry.”
Mom patted my cheek and walked around the bed to come sit next to me. “Nothing like getting shot to work up an appetite. I should know.” I gave her a funny look which had her smiling. “No, I haven’t been shot, but your father has. At least four times over his career.”
“What?” That was news to me. I knew he’d broken his finger once trying to cuff a suspect, but shot four times?
Mom flicked her hand through the air. “We hid those things from you kids. No reason to get you girls upset. Most of them were just grazes anyway, but I’ll tell you what. The pattern was the same. He’d come home angry and tired, devour a plate of food, pass out and wake up at least once with a nightmare, reliving the whole thing.”
I kept eating and listening, wishing she knew the whole story about Wyatt and me. This wasn’t just a simple gunshot wound. My heart was wounded too. My calf would heal. I wasn’t so sure about my heart.
“How about you tell me what’s really going on?” Mom pushed a lock of hair behind my ear.
I shot her a pathetic attempt at a smile. “You a mind reader now too?”
Mom took the almost empty plate away from me, setting it on the nightstand before settling so she leaned against the headboard and our shoulders were touching. She tucked her feet under one of my blankets.
“I know when one of my girls is struggling and I also think it has nothing to do with a bullet.”
I sighed, allowing myself for the first time to think about all that had happened today between Wyatt and me. “I thought I was in love with him, Mom.”
“And now?”
The burn behind my eyelids increased. “Now…well, now I know he’s not the man for me. I need someone who will sacrifice everything for me, just as I’d do for him. Someone who understands how important family is. Loyalty. Honesty. Those are all deal breakers.”
Mom’s arm came around my shoulders. “And Wyatt isn’t that man? He sure seemed infatuated at the baby shower when he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.”
I sniffled hard, rubbing my hand across my nose and willing the tears to stay back. “I thought he might be, but turns out he’s too busy running from his past to be honest about who he is.” A sob worked its way up my throat, but I swallowed it down.
“I really did love him, Mom,” I whispered.
She pulled me in tight and kissed the top of my head. “I know, dear. Let’s just get through tonight and then we can talk about it all tomorrow.”
She held me as I silently cried, my shaky inhales becoming a steady rhythm that eventually lulled me to sleep. I woke the next morning to find Mom still by my side, her snoring sounding like a freight train bearing down on my little house. I felt bruised and battered—physically and mentally—but my heart squeezed in my chest seeing that my mom had stayed the night with me. When everyone else let you down, you can always count on your mom.
Glancing at the clock, I realized it was just barely daybreak. My body was used to getting up early for work, but Sheriff Locke had given me two weeks’ paid time off to recuperate.
I groaned and flopped back on the bed. The last thing I wanted was time off. What was I going to do? Sit and cry over Wyatt? Stare at his house out the window and wonder what he was doing without me? No, thanks. First order of business, call Sheriff and see if he’d let me come in and do some desk work. At least that would keep my mind busy.
Grabbing my phone off the nightstand, I was about to call him when I realized he probably wouldn’t be in the station yet. Waking him with a request he wouldn’t care for wouldn’t win me any favors. Instead, my fingers started typing out a search online for a Wyatt Dolby. Unlike the first time I searched for Wyatt Smith and came up empty, this time my browser window returned pages of hits. My thumb kept flicking and my eyes nearly glazed over with all the pictures of Wyatt. Calling the sheriff was long forgotten.
“Holy shit,” I whispered in shock.
“Watch your mouth, young lady,” Mom mumbled into the pillow.
I rolled my eyes, but kept my mouth shut this time. Wyatt, my partner, the guy I’d thought I could build a life with in this little town of mine, was actually from a rich, elite family in Santa Cruz. He was old money. People knew his last name like they knew household brands. Wyatt could literally buy half the acreage of our county and still have money left over for a permanent European vacation.
He was shown decked out in Armani suits, scantily clad in swim trunks on a yacht with a woman on either side of him, coming out of a dark building looking like he’d had a rough night, and even pictures of him and his sister when they were just kids. This version of Wyatt wasn’t the guy I knew.
Which just proved I didn’t know him at all.
I’d fallen in love with a guy that didn’t exist in my ordinary realm.
I’d fallen in love with a guy I’d made up in my head.
