Page 11 of I Found You (Wilder #1)

Maeve

Wyatt Wilder was at my house. Again. My body was reacting to his nearness, his kindness, in a ridiculous way.

I didn’t know what his deal was, but he had no reason to come to my rescue at the pizzeria.

Actually, he had more reason than most to jump onto the “Maeve is a loser” train.

What I did to Andrea or Jenny, I had no idea.

At least Abbie hadn’t been overtly mean.

She seemed like she wanted to say something to them, but she didn’t.

Turned out for the best in the end. If she had stuck up for me, maybe Wyatt wouldn’t have felt the need to come to my rescue.

Then, I wouldn’t have been able to see Andrea’s face when he said he didn’t remember being with her.

Ouch. That had to hurt. Not that I cared. She brought it on herself.

I pulled into my faded, cracked driveway and put the car in park.

Wyatt got out and went straight to Jane to get her out of her car seat.

I didn’t have one of those portable car seats that I could take into the house with her still in it.

One of the downfalls of shopping secondhand, but it was safe, and that was the biggest priority.

Wyatt loaded Jane and the takeout food into his arms and closed the rear door.

I took a second to finally breathe. Surely I wasn’t holding my breath the entire drive home, but that’s what it felt like.

My lungs expanded as I tried to suck in air and get my brain to focus, but instead, all I could smell was him.

It smelled like a forest but with a hint of something else, something intoxicating. It was making me delirious.

My car door opened, Wyatt standing ready to help me out, even with his hands full, his arm threaded through the handles of the takeout bag while simultaneously holding Jane. His other hand on my doorframe.

“Want me to take her?” I asked as I got out of the car and we made our way toward the house.

“No.”

“Can I take the food off your hands?”

“No.”

Well, okay then. Good talk.

This was going to be awkward AF. Why was he here? Why didn’t I just drop him off at his house or his car or something? He was making me all kinds of flustered.

He stopped at the front door and waited. It took me a second to realize he was waiting for me to unlock it.

“Oh, it’s open. I didn’t lock up,” I told him.

His head snapped to the side to look at me. Or glare was probably more accurate. “What do you mean? You just left your house unlocked while you were out?” He pushed the door open, shaking his head.

“I knew I was only going to be gone for a few minutes to pick up the food. And besides, if I’m not at home and an intruder shows up, then they can’t hurt me. That would be the best time for someone to break in. It isn’t like I was going to be fighting anyone off.”

“And if they are still in the house when you get back? What’s your plan then?”

“I don’t know. Maybe talk to them. See why they feel they need to steal.” His eyes were as large as dinner plates as they bored into me, and I could see the tightness in his jaw. “And call the police. Definitely would call the police,” I added.

“Do me a favor. Lock your fucking door.” He was looking around as if an intruder might be sitting on my sofa, just waiting to be found. “Please,” he added as an afterthought.

He walked around my living room with Jane in his arms, a slight bounce to his steps.

“I’m sorry. I should have brought you back to your house. I wasn’t thinking. Do you want me to bring you home now?”

“Do you want me to leave?” His eyes searched mine.

“No,” I answered him quickly. Probably too quickly. “You can stay. Sit… if you want. Make yourself comfortable.”

He put Jane in the bounce chair I’d picked up a few days ago and crouched in front of her, bouncing her gently. She was going to need a bottle and a bath soon, but she wasn’t fussy yet, so I was hoping I might be able to eat some of my pizza while it was still hot.

“Uh, Wyatt,” I started, looking at my knotted hands. “About that apology I owe you.” I glanced up to find him standing tall, arms crossed, textbook smirk making his face look dangerously handsome, not that I would tell him that.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m sorry I went off on you that day, about taking Jane out without telling me.

I didn’t see the note until I was in bed, getting ready to go to sleep,” I rambled off.

“I know you were just helping me, and had I seen that note when I woke up, I wouldn’t have had a complete panic attack.

I still don’t even want to think about you carrying me up the stairs, so let’s just agree to forget that ever happened. ”

His smirk morphed into a full-blown grin. It was crazy how he could seem dangerous and sexy one minute and playful and boyish the next. Another thought I would be keeping to myself, thank you very much.

“Don’t worry about it. Any of it.” He sent another wink my way. That seemed to be his go-to move. I wasn’t mad about it. “You going to share that pizza? I’m half-starved, and considering I had to leave before I was done, I think I should be entitled to half that pizza.”

“Half? No chance. You can have a slice,” I said to him while I was getting paper plates from my cabinet. It wasn’t that I didn’t have or use real plates, but pizza was a paper plates kind of meal in my opinion.

“Three,” he countered.

“Two. And I’ll split the salad with you.”

“Deal.” He put his hand out to shake on it like we were making some kind of contract. His broad, warm palm wrapped around my hand, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

I divvied up our plates, two pieces of pizza and some salad on each, and brought them into the living room.

I had a dining room directly off the kitchen, but the layout didn’t allow me to see into the living room where Jane was.

It was easier just to eat in there. After handing Wyatt his plate where he had taken a seat on the sofa, I put my plate on the coffee table and sat on the floor with my legs tucked under me.

Putting his plate down to stand, Wyatt asked, “Do you mind if I grab a water? Can I get you one while I’m up?”

“Oh, I can grab it.” I moved to get back off the floor, but Wyatt stopped me.

“I’m already up. I’ve got it.”

“Oh sure, and yes, I’ll take one, please.” I smiled at him.

When he came back with our drinks, he picked up his plate, but instead of bringing it to the sofa with him, he sat on the floor next to me.

“Sorry about the paper plates. I don’t want you to think that I don’t know how to eat like a grown-up. I do. I have real plates.”

I was always so embarrassed growing up when I brought friends back to my house or wherever we were sleeping at the time.

Everything always felt so temporary, like our whole lives were disposable.

I’d worked hard to turn our lives around, but every so often, I still felt like that poor kid with the drug-addicted mother, like everyone could see right through me.

His lips quirked up on one side, head tilted at an angle as he turned to look at me. “I don’t give a shit about paper plates, Maeve. Not one bit.”

He stopped to take a bite of his pizza, so I did the same. The silence in the house was cozy rather than oppressive. Comfortable, like we didn’t need to fill every second with noise.

“Can I ask you a question?” His brow furrowed slightly. “You look familiar, but for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. Did we go to school together or something?”

“We may have crossed paths years ago, when Andrea Petit was your girlfriend. She was kind of a friend, or we would hang around with the same crowd, anyway. I was a few years below you though. I knew who you were, but you wouldn’t have known who I was.”

“Girlfriend? I’ve never even had one of those. Andrea and I hung out a bit, but I definitely wasn’t calling her my girlfriend. But more importantly… you knew who I was?” he asked, glee written on his face, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

Shoot.

“Oh, um, yeah. But only because I was in the grade between Luke and Lydia at school, so I kind of just knew who the Wilders were. And I always thought Lydia was so cool, even though she was younger than me. How is she, anyway? I don’t think I ever see her around town.”

“No, she moved away right out of high school, and she doesn’t come home much. She’s doing great though. She’s an art curator for some small galleries in New York.”

“Wow, that’s really impressive. The art world is supposed to be super hard to break into, isn’t it? I bet your parents are so proud of her.”

“Yeah, but my dad’s easily impressed, so it barely counts,” Wyatt laughed. “After our mom died, Lydia put all her focus on one thing: her art. She wouldn’t let anything stop her from making it. She can be a complete wild card sometimes, but no one can take away that she is determined as fuck.”

“I’m so sorry. I always thought her life looked so perfect. I had no idea.”

“That’s three times you’ve apologized today for things that need no apology.

I think we’re going to need to work on that.

” He paused to take a bite of his pizza.

“And you weren’t completely off base. We had a privileged childhood.

I was just out of high school when my mom passed, but until she got sick, honestly, it was damn near perfect. ”

“Wow. I’m going to try really hard to not be envious of that.

I think it’s really insightful of you to recognize it too.

A lot of people seem to take it for granted, and I don’t blame them.

If that was all they knew growing up, then I think people can’t, or don’t, realize that not everyone has what they have. ”