Page 5

Wyatt

F inn is a goofy little fucker. I hadn’t expected him to peep on me like that.

His dad hadn’t mentioned anything about him being gay, but I don’t really care either way.

I meant what I said to him; it isn’t a big deal.

Shit, growing up out here in the middle of nowhere, hunting, camping, fishing with the guys, you’re bound to see each other’s dicks.

I chuckle and look at myself in the mirror. My beard could use a little bit of a trim, and so could my hair. Miranda has always been the one to cut my hair, ever since I was a kid. She’d be more than happy to help me out now, but I’d have to wash it first.

Turning on the hot water, I let the shower run for a few minutes to heat up.

As the bathroom fills with steam, I breathe in the moisture, which feels good on my skin and my lungs.

Sometimes the air up here gets so dry during the colder months, I end up with nosebleeds and cracked skin.

Lord knows I’d better start taking care of myself a little better, or I’ll look so much older than I actually am.

Am I becoming vain in my old age? Not that thirty-five is old, but when I get a close-up look at Finn’s twenty-two-year-old complexion, I suddenly feel green with envy. Not in a bad way, but there’s no way I want to look prematurely weather-beaten like my pops did.

Stripping off my dirty clothes, I hop into the shower.

The stream of hot water momentarily feels scalding, but I soon adjust to it.

The pummeling hot spray works its magic on my tired and sore muscles.

As I enjoy the calming shower, my thoughts drift back to my father.

He would be very proud of me. I know I gave him shit when I was younger, and he probably worried I’d turn into a low-life.

No, I know he thought that because when Doris came to me one day with a basket of freshly made scones and coffee to have a chat about my life’s direction, she told me his fears.

It was at that moment I realized I needed to make a change.

I was headed down the wrong path. There were guys my age living in town who did nothing with their lives but cause trouble now and then.

A life like that would never have been okay with my pops.

In fact, shortly before he passed away, I came to his bedside.

I can still remember how the room felt, warm but sterile.

Between Mr. Wildwood, Doris, and Miranda, my dad had wanted for nothing, and they’d taken care of him from the moment he was diagnosed with cancer until the very end.

I wash my hair, and when I close my eyes to rinse out the suds, my memories come flooding back once again.

I sit next to him on the bed and hold his hand.

He motions for me to lean in as he wants to tell me something important.

Careful not to put any of my weight on him, I lean down, and he whispers, “No matter what you do, find your forever and hold on tight.”

Opening my eyes, I turn around to face the showerhead.

I soap up and rinse my body clean when I suddenly feel emotional.

Tears well up in my eyes, and I fight back the sobs forcing themselves to the surface.

I hadn’t cried for my dad. I was the one who needed to hold it together for the rest of them.

They were all a complete mess when he passed.

But now, it’s my turn. Giving myself permission to mourn wasn’t what I expected from the day. Where is this coming from? Why now?

Once I’m done, I turn off the water and finish getting ready for dinner. After checking the time, I realize there’s still enough time to get my hair trimmed. I send Miranda a text asking for her expertise, and she replies with all hearts.

I’d better hurry and get dressed; she’ll be bursting through my door any minute.

There might not be enough time to trim my beard before she arrives, but I’m going to give it a shot.

I take out the scissors and the electric beard trimmer.

Not one to do this regularly, I keep making mistakes, and before I realize it, in order to make the damn thing even, I have to rely on the clippers—the short ones.

The door bursts open with an out-of-breath Miranda holding her tackle box—or at least that’s what I took to calling it when I was a kid.

It’s basically the same thing, one clip in the front that opens, and the lid tips back to reveal multiple levels of tackle.

Okay, it’s scissors, brushes, clipper guards, and the like.

“What’s the special occasion?” she asks as she begins setting up next to the vanity mirror in the bathroom.

I shake my head. “Nothing special. Just felt a bit raggedy, is all.”

Her gaze narrows, but she doesn’t press further. Not that it matters; I’m not hiding anything. Right? Maybe my newfound desire to roll back time? Whatever the reason, I sit on a stool and let her work her magic.

“How short do you want it?” she asks.

“Definitely not a buzz cut, but short.” I rub my hand over my beard, or what’s left of it, and say, “Kind of like this.”

She leans down and grasps the cross around her neck. “You did a good job keeping it straight, but Wyatt, why so short?” Miranda begins running her fingers through it. “Well, it’s not that short, but since it’s curly, you’re going to want to brush it out. It’ll give you more volume.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

“Doris is going to be shocked when she sees you,” Miranda says. “Remember how she’s been asking you to take better care of yourself? You’re far too handsome to let yourself go. Even your father would have agreed.”

She stops what she’s doing and looks at me in the mirror. Her eyes are filled with tears, and I can tell she didn’t mean to bring up my pops.

“It’s alright, Miranda. I actually had a good cry in the shower. I’m feeling better.” I smile. “And you’re right. He would have wanted me to take better care of myself.”

She kisses her cross and starts trimming my hair. Humming a tune I recognize but cannot name, she makes quick work of my mess. Once she’s done, she slaps the back of my head and says, “Look at that.”

I give it a once-over and smile. “Perfection as always, Miranda. I promise you I will start taking better care of myself.”

“You better,” she says. “Now rinse out the stray hairs and come to dinner. If you haven’t smelled it already, Doris is making prime rib.”

“With her famous potatoes and broccoli?”

She nods. “And the seven-cheese macaroni and cheese you like.”

My stomach immediately grumbles, reminding me I haven’t eaten since breakfast. “The woman knows the way into my heart.”

Miranda kisses the top of my head and then hits me playfully with the hand towel she used around my neck.

I couldn’t imagine a better substitute family than the one I have here.

After my pops died and then Mr. Wildwood, all I had left was Doris and Miranda.

They are the moms I need right now. Miranda has been so excited since Finn announced he was coming to stay here.

She keeps saying I will finally have a brother, but I don’t feel that way about him.

Something is different between us, and family is definitely not how I feel about him—at least not siblings.

Normally, I eat my meals tucked away in the back of the kitchen to keep out of sight of the guests, but we only have one couple, and they are taking their meal in the room tonight.

Since it will be me and Finn having dinner together, it will be nice to spend some one-on-one time talking.

The table is already set for two when I arrive, although Finn has not yet arrived.

I take my place, put the cloth napkin on my lap, and wait.

Doris and Miranda could join the table, but always have too much work to do, or so they say.

My guess is they want us to spend more time together.

Since Finn arrived, we’ve only spent a handful of hours together in the past month, and usually, it’s me simply telling him about a project I’m working on, unlike this morning when he actually helped.

My reverie is interrupted when I hear footsteps approaching from behind me.

Finn walks up to the chair across from me and says, “Is this seat taken?”

I make a show of looking around at the empty room and shake my head. “It’s all yours.”

Finn sits and arranges the napkin on his lap.

His bright blue eyes twinkle in the candlelight.

His smooth skin seems flawless in the low light, and I can’t help but notice the softness of his hands.

I feel suddenly uncomfortable. I don’t normally pick up on things like that.

But, if I’m honest, I have been noticing the little lines springing up around my eyes, so perhaps that’s why. It reminds me of his youth and my age.

My belly flutters a touch, and I shift in my chair. Still, these feelings make me uneasy. Perhaps it’s nerves?

“I sure hope Doris made some of her homemade rolls with dinner tonight,” Finn says.

I am relieved to focus on something other than the weird feelings I’m experiencing. “You can count on it. Her rolls were my pops’ favorite. There’s never a meal without them.”

“Your dad sounds like he was an amazing person.” Finn looks down at the table and fiddles with his fork. “I wish I could have gotten to know him more.”

Doris walks into the room carrying a big tray of food. “Prime rib, potatoes, broccoli, mac and cheese, and of course, Wyatt’s favorite rolls,” she announces, placing each dish on the table. “Eat up, boys! There’s plenty for seconds.”

Finn’s face lights up, and he eagerly reaches for the rolls. He takes one and passes the basket to me. As I take one, I can’t help but notice the softness of his hands again.

“Thanks, Doris,” Finn says. “This all looks amazing!”

She smiles and heads back to the kitchen, leaving us alone again.

As we start to eat, I take a deep breath and say, “So, tell me more about New York. What’s it like living there?”

Finn’s eyes light up as he begins to talk about the city. “It’s busy, loud, and always moving. But there’s so much to do and see. I miss the food the most. There are so many different kinds of restaurants and street vendors. You can find anything you’re craving at any time of day.”

I listen intently, fascinated by his stories of the city. My life here in the mountains seems so small and simple in comparison. But I also feel a sense of pride in the peaceful, beautiful life I have built here.

As Finn continues to talk, I realize that despite our differences, we have a lot in common. We both value hard work, family, and a good meal. Maybe, just maybe, we will have a strong friendship after all.