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Stone’s heavy gaze meets mine in the mirror, and it’s then that I realize Wyatt is talking about me. His words are slurred, almost as if he’s talking in his sleep. I guess this would be more aptly described as talking while passed the fuck out. “How did he even get the alcohol?” I ask the guys.
Lucas shrugs. “How does Wyatt ever do anything? When he sets his mind to something, he just gets it done. He probably took an Uber all the way here and made the driver stop at a convenience store off one of the exits.”
I think back through our conversation earlier at school. Something isn’t adding up. I’m not sure what I said or did that would’ve caused him to do this. He’s the one who yelled at me, after all.
“Girls are bitches, man,” he grumbles.
A growl works its way up my throat, but Lucas turns to put his hand on my knee. He shakes his head. “That’s not about you,” he whispers. Louder, he says. “We know, man. Everything’s good.”
“She killed my father.”
Horror rips through me, and I gasp.
Those words were quieter than the others, but I’m sure I heard him right. I try to twist them into saying something completely different but when I lift my gaze and see Stone staring back at me, I know there’s no way I heard it wrong. Someone killed Wyatt’s father.
“We know, man,” Lucas says.
I keep running my hand through his hair. He sighs into me, finally curling up until soft snores signal that he’s sleeping it off. I guess there’s the reason why Wyatt has issues with women? Whoever this “she” is fucked him up.
I lie my head back and close my eyes, wondering what horrors Wyatt has had to go through and just how far in his past these things happened.
We could drop a pin in the car and hear it hit. That’s how silent the car ride back to Jacobs Manor is. When we get there, Stone and Lucas get Wyatt to his feet. He’s combative at first, even taking a swing at both of them. He’s too drunk to do any real damage, and it allows Stone to wrap him up, leading him toward the house.
I lag behind, watching the whole thing as they take Wyatt to his room and close the door behind them. I stand in the hallway for a little while. I hear the pipes start to run water and then a string of curses travels through the walls as Wyatt pitches a fit.
Fingering the brim of Wyatt’s hat, I take it into my room with me. I set it on the nightstand and then strip, putting my PJ’s on, so I can slip into bed. Despite wishing sleep would come, my mind keeps wandering to Wyatt and what he said to me at school and how the night ended. I’m upset still, but I also long to know what makes that boy tick. All of them, actually.
I’m easy to figure out. Poor girl with barely any history. I mean, how much history can you have if you’ve barely ever left the house let alone the small town you live in? I’ve only started to gather a history since meeting the guys.
Here I thought I was on this grand adventure ever since I was a little girl, but now I know mine is just starting.
* * *
Halfway through the night,my door opens, and Wyatt steps in. He’s dressed in nothing but a pair of long pants that dip well below his belly button. He tiptoes through the room to grab his hat, but when he looks at me, he realizes I’m watching.
He stops, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
I move back to get a better look at him, bringing my knees to my chest. “Which part?”
“The part where I yelled at you.”
How did these guys enter my life and end up turning the whole thing upside down? I don’t even know if I should be mad at him anymore. Maybe I should be mad at my dad, but even that seems kind of fruitless considering he’s not even here...and maybe he won’t ever be coming back.
“It’s okay,” I say, even though it’s not. Even though those aren’t the right words at all, but I’m not equipped to know the right words. My experience with people is so limited that I’m not sure what’s what and how I should be reacting to anything. It’s sad when you can’t even trust yourself.
Even though I don’t say more, I think Wyatt knows those words were just empty. Just something people say. His gaze drifts to his hat and then back again. “Can I lie next to you?”
I move back, practically plastering myself to the wall, but who am I to deny Wyatt? Not after the night he’s had. He moves into place, staying on top of the covers.
“I was talking to Lucas about his magic fingers when he told me you were the one in the backseat with me. That was kind of awkward.”
I grin at him, thinking it funny he thought I was Lucas, but in the same token, I could see Lucas taking care of him too, running his hands through his hair just like I had.
“It helped ease some of the thoughts in my head,” he says, and for the first time, his vulnerability shines like a spotlight.
I bite my lower lip. “I can do it again, if you want.”
Wyatt shuffles closer, still sporting his innocent face. I move up, placing my pillow up under my rib cage, so I can lie in an elevated position. Wyatt closes his eyes, and I hesitate at first. This seems far too intimate now. Not like before when I knew he needed it but also that he probably wasn’t ever going to remember. He’ll remember it this time. He wants it.