Page 141 of Playing for Keeps
When I arrived yesterday, I had to push my way through a wall of reporters and flashing cameras, all of them shouting questions I had no intention of answering. I didn’t stop until I was safely inside, falling straight into Mom’s arms. She held me just like she did when I was little, after scraped knees or a bump on the head from flipping off the garden swing set. I hadn’t realized how much I needed that comfort until I was wrapped in it.
I didn’t text Wyatt. I didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t make him feel worse. I know he’s probably hurting that I left. I’m hurting too, but I needed the distance. He didn’t reach out either, and part of me wonders if that was Ash’s doing. She couldsee how badly I was spiralling. Maybe she told him to give me space. If she did, I doubt he took it well.
With a sigh, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of the bed. I can’t just lie here anymore, staring at nothing. I might as well start the day. Hopefully, it’ll be better than yesterday.
I grab my phone and quietly make my way downstairs. In the kitchen, I flick on the coffee machine, pouring myself a cup when it’s ready, and then head for the den. Curling up on the sofa, I take a slow sip, hoping the caffeine will wake me up.
My phone’s on silent, but when a notification lights up the screen, I hesitate before checking it. Every alert for the past twenty-four hours has brought more bad news, and I’m bracing myself for another blow. When I finally glance down and see it’s a message from Ash, I breathe a sigh of relief. I place my coffee on the side table, unlock the screen, and tap the message.
Ash: Hey, how you doing? I couldn’t sleep for worrying about you.
Sighing, my fingers fly over the screen as I reply.
Me: I’m okay. Couldn’t sleep either. How was Wyatt yesterday?
I watch as the message shows, read, and the typing bubble appears, then disappears before appearing again. Finally, a message comes through.
Ash: Upset. He’s worried about you.
I exhale loudly. I’m worried about him too, and maybe it was wrong to push him away. I don’t know how I’m meant to deal with this. I guess I just ran when things got hard.
Another message pops up.
Ash: You should know that he wanted to follow you back to Hope Creek. I stopped him and told him you needed some space. I hope I did the right thing.
I don’t know what the right thing is anymore. But I did tell her I needed space, and I’m grateful she had my back.
Me: You did. I should have called him. I wimped out. He probably hates me.
Ash: He doesn’t. You should talk to him.
Me: I will. Thanks, Ash. Love you.
Ash: Love you too. Call me if you need me.
I set my phone down on the sofa beside me and lean back against the cushions. Yesterday, I told Ash I needed space, and maybe I did in that moment, but the truth is, all I want right now is Wyatt. I want to be close to him, to feel his arms around me, again. It hasn’t even been that long since I last saw him, but I miss him like it’s been weeks. I just wish he was here.
Wyatt
I’ve been up since dawn, though I never actually slept. I’ve spent the whole night awake, then pacing the kitchen since first light, watching the clock and waiting for it to be a reasonable hour to show up at Ivy’s parents’ house.
I promised Ash I’d give Ivy space, and I have, even though it’s killed me. But now, as the clock inches toward nine, I know I’ve waited long enough. I need to see her. Ihaveto.
Mom’s been by my side all morning, doing her best to talk me out of giving this woman exactly what she wants just to make all of this disappear. Deep down, I know she’s right. Paying her off wouldn’t solve anything. It would only encourage her to come back for more later, and worse, it would make it look like the headlines are true, even though they’re complete garbage.
But logic isn’t exactly winning right now. Not when Ivy’s hurting. Not when my relationship with her is hanging by a thread.
“I really hope Nash has found something on this woman,” I mutter, raking a hand through my hair. “I thought he might’ve gotten back to me yesterday.”
“I hope so too, sweetheart,” Mom says, giving my hand a gentle squeeze.
“I can’t wait anymore. I’m going to Ivy’s parents’ place.”
“Okay. Give Ivy a hug from me,” Mom says.
I bend down and kiss her cheek.
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll see you later.”
