Page 66 of If All Else Sails
The furniture delivery is almost as shocking as Wyatt deciding to come with me to the library.He said it makes more sense to go together and then straight to the physical therapist’s—ever the practical man.
I said yes, of course, though I am, for once, struggling to find words on the drive into Kilmarnock.
“You’re quiet,” he says as I pull into the parking lot.
“I must be ifyou’retalking,” I say, and then my mouth clamps shut again.
Because who came and body-snatched Wyatt? Someone clearly did. Starting with the shaved face, then the setting up of the doctor’s appointment, the ordering of furniture for his house, and now...coming with me to the library?
It’s too much.
I can almost hear Toni cackling, asking again why I’m not falling for this man.
I don’t have words for that either.
As I park the Bronco, which Wyatt still insists I drive everywhere, I clench my hands around the wheel and stare at my fingers.
“Thank you,” I say finally, feeling something ease in my chest. I tilt my head, giving him a sideways glance. Full on seems like too much. “You didn’t need to buy new furniture.”
I almost addfor me, but I don’t know that he did it for me necessarily. I mean, I asked why he hadn’t and complained about the squeaky bed, which now makes me feel horrible, but never did I imagine him buying two whole new bedroom sets. And a new couch. Rugs, a new kitchen table, and a bookshelf.
The house needed it, so maybe he ordered it like a month ago?
Somehow, though, I think not.
Especially when he caught me staring at the bookshelf and told me it’s for my books.
I had to shut myself in my room and sit on the new, non-squeaky bed so I wouldn’t start crying in front of him.
So, I guess at leastthatpiece of furniture was for me.
“It’s nothing,” Wyatt says, like it isn’t.
I clear my throat. “It’snot, though. And I need you to know I appreciate it.”
“Can we go into the library now?” he asks like a man totally not in touch with his feelings.
“Yep,” I say, but then I quickly walk around to his side of the car as he pulls out his crutches and stands. “But first, I need to do this.”
Without waiting for a response, I wrap my arms around his waist and hug him.
I’ve missed hugs. While Toni says she runs purely on coffee and a steady stream of Twizzlers, I run on hugs. Physical touch from people I love, really, but hugs are the best. And as my cheek presses into the hard yet snuggly planes of Wyatt’s chest, I can’t stop the deep sigh from leaving my chest.
Wyatt’s frozen at first, but then he shifts on his crutches, one hand landing between my shoulder blades and the other arm fully circling me, pulling me in tight.
My breath catches in my throat, and it takes a few moments for me to swallow down the swell of emotion.
“This is called a hug,” I say. “People do this for many reasons, but often as a thank-you or a show of comfort or affection.”
“Huh,” Wyatt says. “I had no idea.”
“Well, you’re doing great. Totally a natural at this.”
It’s starting to go on too long. I know this, but it’s still hard to peel myself away from him. I can’t meet his eyes when I do.
Giving him a pat on his arm like he’s a really good puppy, I start toward the library. He follows, catching up quickly. I swing open the door, sensing his gaze on me. But I’m still feeling a little too emotionally raw to meet his eyes.
“Do you like to read?” I ask. Seems like a low-risk question. I only half expect him to answer.
