Page 8 of The Mountain Man's Christmas Angel
“Yes. Of course. How do you take your coffee?”
“Splash of cream, couple of sugars.”
“Got it.” I fixed his coffee, yet I couldn’t get the picture out of my head. Who was that little boy? Was he not telling me something?
I wouldn’t press the issue. He could tell me in his own time.
After fixing out coffees, I slid onto the seat next to him, and sipped the hot liquid, my body feeling as if came alive more and more with each sip.
“And how do you take yours?” Wyatt asked me with a playful grin.
“Black.”
Wyatt scrunched his face up. “No way.”
“Yes way. I’ve liked it since I was little. Sugar and cream get in the way.”
“No, they give it the flavor.”
We sat at the kitchen island and a silence fell between us when finally, Wyatt released a sigh. I looked over at him. “So, you saw the picture in the cabinet?” He asked softly.
I nodded. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to. Whoever he is, he’s adorable.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Wyatt looked down at the table, his hands clapped together. “There’s something I need to tell you. I mean it’s only fair if we’re going to continue what we’re doing.”
Knots tangled in my stomach.I knew this was all too good to be true. See didn’t I say it was…
“The little boy in the picture. He’s my son.”
The news hits me like a tidal way. But it didn’t matter. I had plenty of love to share, especially for another member of our family. I reached out and squeezed his arm. “Oh my God, Wyatt, that’s awesome. I didn’t know you were a dad. Wow.”
“Here’s the thing. He passed away twelve years ago.”
This bit of news dropped like a nuclear bomb. I choked on my sip of coffee, coughing and sputtering on the hot liquid. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Wyatt. I don’t know what to say, besides I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t know. How could you?”
I said nothing as I searched his eyes. There’s that pain again. The flicker I’d seen before. A spark ignited once more.
And now I understood why.
“Wyatt…” I took him in my arms and wrapped myself around him.
“I was young, Jewels. Only nineteen. Had sex with a random girl at a party and didn’t wear a condom like an idiot. She contacted me a few months later and said she was pregnant. I had been in and out of foster care, I couldn’t have two extrapeople tagging along with me.” Wyatt sighed again. “My dad supported me along the way and when the baby was born, we took turns caring for him. We had worked out a good system. We co-parented decently and our little guy, Eric was his name, was thriving. For being so young, we did well. But it was stolen in an instant. A drunk driver hit them driving home one night and claimed the lives of both of them”
I gasped, my mouth falling open slightly. “Oh my God, Wyatt.”
“Yeah. Exactly why I don’t love Christmas. Eric loved it. Or being around other children. I miss my son so much.”
“Oh Wyatt. I’m so so sorry.” I held on tight. “Thank you for trusting me with that.”
“I miss him so much, Jewels.”
And then he cried in my arms, unleashing all of his pain and hurt and setting it free.
CHAPTER SIX
Wyatt
