Page 102 of Finding Their Place

The second issue was my father. I did as Wyatt had once suggested—I put myself in his shoes. Considered his introspection, how he’d dealt with his own emotions living beneath the same reign of terror I had. As an adult, he should have fared better than I did, should have had stability and wisdom enough to know his only child suffered alongside him and needed guidance in how to deal with emotional hurt.

Was it possible he hadn’t seen beyond his own pain? Had something in his past made him incapable of empathy? He’d never been affectionate as far back as I could remember. There were no shoulder rides, no bedtime stories, or making blanket forts.

Maybe he’d been robbed of that in his own childhood and didn’t think to initiate such things.

I let out a heavy sigh, knowing I would need to talk to him, but that could wait a bit longer.

Wyatt had opened a door inside me I’d been firmly planted behind, and he deserved my thanks—and so much more.

But I needed to take one step at a time in fixing what I’d fucked up.

My fingers shook, but I texted Wyatt three simple words to get the ball rolling: Send Garrett home.

I crawled beneath my blankets.

Either Garrett would come back to me or he wouldn’t, and curling up under my covers seemed the best place to wait for happiness—or more self-inflicted heartache I would have to find a way to deal with.

34

Wyatt

I’d hung up from leaving a voicemail, wishing I’d been able to say more, that I needed her just as much a Garrett did, but I’d been the one to cause their fallout. It had been my selfishness to have the both of them that had broken down the walls between them.

It was up to me to help repair what I’d ruined.

And if there was space left in their hearts for me once they worked things out, I would willingly give both of them everything I had.

Garrett lay passed out in my bed after a long day at work beneath the sun and one-hundred degree sweltering heat, but I hadn’t been able to rest.

The news of Haley’s mom’s suicide had sent Garrett into a funk that had worried me. I’d reached out to Haley since I didn’t know how to offer more than the comfort of my arms, which he hadn’t seemed to want.

“Fuck.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, bleary-eyed and blinking my refrigerator into focus. I’d been sitting at the kitchen table for close to an hour, a half-emptied bottle of warm beer in my hand.

It grew close to midnight—I noted the microwave’s glowing green numbers.

A loud as fuck notification tone jerked my attention to my cell laying in front of me. I’d set my volume to its highest since I didn’t want to miss a reply—if she would offer one.

Send Garrett home.

Haley’s three-worded text hit my chest like a sledgehammer.

She wanted her best friend and nothing more.

There was no acceptance of the apology I’d sent the Monday before. Nothing for me to hinge hope on, nothing to read into even though the message I’d left her hadn’t hinted I’d wanted anything more than to fix what I’d broken.

While I told myself that was what I wished for—her to be happy with the man she obviously loved—her text hurt like fuck.

I’d hoped for a call, a chance to talk to her myself before Garrett did.

But no.

Her heart belonged to Garrett, and I swallowed that truth down like a bitter pill. What had started out as a hug offered as comfort ten days earlier had turned in to a shit ton more between Garrett and me. A connection of not just bodies but hearts and minds.

At least for me, anyway.

Having Garrett in my arms, coming undone countless times beneath or on top of him had given me a sense of bonding more than from both of us being adopted. It felt like a part of me entwined with him beyond the physical.

Add in our easy conversation, being all up in each other’s space for two weeks straight, and I knew him better than any of my other employees or close friends I used to party with.

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