Page 28 of Shy Girls Can’t Date Celebrities (Shy Girls Sweet Romances #6)

After the movie and a belly full of pizza, it’s late into the evening, and Wyatt encourages me to pack my bag and officially move out of the presidential suite. Let’s face it, he’s too ridiculously adorable to disagree with.

On the floor below the penthouse, I move along the hallway toward my suite, and I pass an opening door.

“Oh, Josie,” Mrs. Hayes says frantically, grabbing onto my arm as she leaves her suite. “Do you know if Wyatt has been released from the clinic yet?”

I blink at her. “Huh?”

Her grip on me tightens. “He was supposed to be getting out today.”

“Yeah,” I drag out the word. “And he did. This morning. ”

She lets me go, stumbling backward. “He did?”

“Yeah. He’s been waiting for you.”

She clutches her chest. “He has?”

“He’s been really cut up about it. He doesn’t think he has a relationship with you or his dad.”

“We were told we’d get a passkey to the penthouse when he arrived here.” Her stare narrows and hostility hardens her tone. “You’re telling me he’s been here for hours?”

I raise my palms defensively. “I don’t have anything to do with you getting a key.”

“But you’ve been with him? You’ve been in the penthouse?”

“Yes. I went to the clinic this morning so I could travel here with him. You could’ve done the same.”

Malice strikes through her glare. “Are you trying to guilt me? You don’t think I love my son?”

I back away, crossing my arms in front for self-protection. “I didn’t say anything like that.”

She shoots out her hand. “Give me your passkey. I need to see Wyatt.”

“I... I... I don’t know if I can.”

She snorts in contempt. “You guilt me for not seeing him, and now you won’t help me get upstairs?”

“No, it’s just I need the key. Once I get my bag, I’m going back upstairs.”

“You can have Randall get you another passkey. Wyatt’s father and I need to get upstairs now.”

“But Randall could give you...”

“Now, Josie!” she snaps. “Hand over the key.”

Her threatening tone chills my blood to ice. My knees knock together as I hand over the passkey.

Mrs. Hayes snatches it and turns on her heels. “Thanks. ”

My hand tremors as I pull out the passkey to my suite and unlock the door. I get inside and plant my back against the closed door, panting for breath. Her mood snapped so fast. I wasn’t expecting such a severe reaction from her.

Instinctively, my eyes lift to the ceiling. Crap . What mood will Wyatt be met with? Will she tone it down with him and be gentle? Or will she rage about not being notified he was in the hotel?

Should I tell Randall? I have to ask him about getting another passkey, don’t I? Or can I just call the front desk and ask for another key? Would they just hand it over to me?

Somehow, I doubt it.

I peel myself off the door, fanning my face as I walk further into my suite.

I enter the bedroom to pack my bag, but I’m too flustered.

There’s a horrible mix of heat and ice inside me, so I decide to refresh with a shower.

When I’m under running water, it’s hard to gain the willpower to turn off the taps.

The temperature and pressure is a renewing comfort, and I want to stay safe in this place.

But when my mind shifts to Wyatt, the need to get myself back upstairs fills me with purpose.

Hurriedly, I pack my makeup and skincare products from the bathroom counter and dump them into my carry-on bag.

With a brand new outfit on, I chuck the rest of my clothes into the bag without care of creases and wrinkles.

Slipping the bag over my shoulder, I move to the landline phone in the living area.

“Hello, front desk,” a male voice says on the other end of the call.

“Hi, it’s Josie Bartlett in the presidential suite.” Gosh, I sound so full of myself.

“Yes, Miss Bartlett. How may I assist you?”

“Umm. I need to get in touch with Erika or Randall. You know, the people who work with Wyatt Hayes.”

“Yes, Miss Bartlett. I believe they’re having drinks in the bar. I can patch you through and have the bartender notify them of your call.”

“Thank you. That’d be great.”

As I’m placed on hold, knots tie through my abdomen and twist around my spine. I hope Erika and Randall aren’t super peeved I gave Mrs. Hayes my passkey to Wyatt’s floor. Maybe they’re well aware of her manic tendencies, and that’s why they prevented her from visiting Wyatt today.

But that’s no reason to keep Wyatt in the dark. He was left thinking his parents didn’t care about him.

After ten minutes of on-hold music, someone finally answers. “Josie?” Erika’s tone is matter-of-fact.

Dang. I was really hoping for Randall. He’s less intimidating.

“Umm.” Any confidence I had is completely shot. “Umm, I...”

“Spit it out, would you,” Erika grunts. “I need to get back to my meeting.”

“Wyatt wants me to go back to his floor, but I need a new passkey.”

Erika pauses for a moment, filling me with dread. “A new key. Where is the key you had? Have you lost it? That would mean you’ve put Wyatt’s safety at jeopardy. Is that what you’re telling me, Josie? Anyone could be on their way up to Wyatt’s floor?”

“No, it’s not just anyone,” my voice tremors. “I gave it to his mother.”

“You did what ?” Erika hisses. “Why did you do that? Who gave you permission to do that?”

“No one,” I squeak. “She was upset, and Wyatt was asking about his parents.”

Erika groans in fury. “This is not what I need right now. Okay, I’ll meet you on your floor and take you up.” She then yells away from the receiver. “Randall! Get to the penthouse and calm Mrs. Hayes down.”

The line then goes dead and all my nerves frazzle. I shudder, lowering the phone onto the cradle .

Crap .

What have I done?

Crap .

Oh, I really hope Wyatt is okay.

I leave my suite with my bag and wait by the elevator for Erika. When the doors ping open, Randall isn’t with her. She ushers me inside, telling me he dashed up to the penthouse while she tied things up with other associates.

“I’m sorry if I did something wrong,” I mutter at my shoes. “She just... She was in my face.”

Erika huffs and the elevator doors ping open. “It’s fine. Wyatt’s parents take a lot to handle.”

Erika marches into the penthouse and I trail behind.

“Why are we not being notified about our son’s whereabouts?

” Mrs. Hayes yells from the dining area.

As we move through the living space, her wild arm movements come into focus.

“We’re left out of the loop, and for some reason, Josie isn’t.

She’s spent years without contact with Wyatt.

Suddenly, she’s back in the fold and with him every step. Explain to me how this makes sense!”

I stop dead, sick at the thought of making eye contact with the hysterical woman.

Erika steps in to help Randall diffuse the situation, and I pan the room for Wyatt.

Since I left the penthouse, it’s been close to forty minutes.

I hate the idea of his mother berating him all this time.

I’m so angry at myself for not calling Erika before my shower.

How could I be so selfish? I should’ve made sure Wyatt got the help he needed before taking care of myself.

Clammy with nerves, my hands twist around the strap of my bag.

Quiet and cautiously, I edge along the living area and toward the bedrooms. I keep my eyes peeled to where everyone stands around the dining area.

My heart leaps into my throat when I see Wyatt.

He sits at the dining table with his dad standing at his side.

When his mother continues to go off on Randall, Wyatt’s thumbs draw circles on his temples.

My teeth grit, realizing how deep the ache in his skull must be burrowing. I move toward the bedrooms and spot Hubert in the hallway.

I gain his attention, whispering, “How long has it been since Wyatt last took his pain meds?”

Hubert looks at his wristwatch. “He should be due again in about fifteen minutes. I’ll ensure they’re ready for him.”

“Thanks.” I gesture at the noise coming from the dining area. “Anyway you can break that up?”

Hubert clasps his hands in front. “It’s not my place, miss.”

My shoulders slouch and I nod in understanding. I then pull my bag off my shoulder. “Umm, I don’t have many clean clothes left. Are there laundry bags here?”

Hubert smiles warmly. “Yes, Miss Bartlett. Just package what you need laundered in the bag located in your closet. If you leave it at the foot of the bed, I’ll have it returned first thing in the morning.”

“Thank you.”

I dump my bag in my bedroom, and then steal enough courage to return to the dining area. When I force myself out of the hall, Wyatt’s eyes brighten at the sight of me.

He sits taller, willing me toward him. As I move closer to the table, his mother whips around and steam sizzles out of her ears.

“Josie, darling,” Mrs. Hayes says, swallowing her simmering rage. “We are so very grateful you’ve helped Wyatt get released from the Clearview Clinic. But we have a life to get back to, and so do you.”

“Mom, she’s not going anywhere,” Wyatt says firmly.

“You can’t live in the past,” his mother replies. “The longer she stays, the longer she holds you back.”

“Sh-she’s th-th-the only one who...” He sighs out, pressing on his chest in frustration. “Jo-Josie mm-makes me better.”

“Mr. and Mrs. Hayes,” Erika says, stepping in. “Josie is here on Wyatt’s request.”

“Wyatt’s had a brain injury,” Mr. Hayes says. “He doesn't know what’s best for him.”

At that, Wyatt pales and shrinks in his seat. How could his dad cut him down like that? Wyatt has a functioning brain. He knows what he wants.

“We are stepping in,” Mrs. Hayes says, raising her volume. “There's been too much decision-making by the Circle 8 team. It’s time for his father and I to take care of him.”

Wyatt winces, pressing his fingers against the side of his head.

Mrs. Hayes combs her fingers through Wyatt’s hair. It makes him flinch, which only increases his pain-ridden wince.

“Wyatt, sweetie, tell them to leave. You’re the only one who can end this now.”