Page 125 of Wright Together

“But…”

“You don’t have to,” he repeated.

“I know, but…”

“I was being a control freak. You needed to deal with this. I’m glad that you called and brought me in when you had the space for it.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Eve, don’t,” he said again, claiming my lips. “I’m here for you. I’m here for Bailey. I don’t need an apology when you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Okay. I don’t apologize, but I wish that I’d handled it better. That I hadn’t cut you out.”

“It’s okay.” He laced our fingers together. “I’m here now.”

A throat cleared behind us. “If y’all are done making out, can we get back to work?”

I found Bailey standing at the door with her fingers in the loops of her jean shorts. “All right. All right.”

“What do you need from me?”

“We need to load up all of her furniture and probably help with some of the heavier boxes.” I showed off my bicep. “I’m a beast, and I can squat your body weight, but I wouldn’t mind some extra muscle.”

“Got it.”

Whitt followed Bailey into her room. She was joking with him like they were long-lost friends. His smile was easy, and hers was bright.

My stomach, however, felt like it had been yanked back on a yo-yo. So much fear rolled into this one meeting, and it had been for nothing. Maybe we’d both needed this time to figure out how important the relationship was to us.

“You coming?” Bailey asked when she saw me holding back.

“Yeah.”

I hurried after them to get the truck loaded. With Whitt’s help, it went much faster. I worked out in the gym several times a week, and still, I was nowhere as strong as him. It was entirely unfair.

We’d finished with almost all the furniture when another car pulled up beside the trailer.

“Shit,” I said, dashing up the stairs and back inside. “Whitt! Bailey! Dad’s here.”

“Fuck,” Bailey snapped. “Why is he back so early?”

Whitt’s brow furrowed. “Wait, does he not know?”

Bailey sighed. “I told you we needed to talk to Dad before moving everything.”

“I thought it’d be better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission.”

“Great,” Whitt said, looking between us in consternation. “What are you going to do?”

Whatever I had to.

“Evie Jo! Bailey Lou!” Dad called as he stepped into the house. “What the fuck is going on? Why is there a truck, loaded with stuff, at our place?”

I took a deep breath and then stepped up to the plate. “Because Bailey is leaving.”

“The fuck she is.”

“I’m taking her back to Lubbock with me.”

---