Page 53 of Shy Girls Can’t Date Celebrities (Shy Girls Sweet Romances #6)

“Mom!” I cry out, running toward her in the small arrivals lounge.

I drop my overnight bag onto the floor and she wraps me in a tight embrace. “Oh, darling, I’m beyond happy to have you home.”

I sigh out in her arms. “Me too.”

She smooths a hand over my curls. “How was the flight?”

“Long. Wyatt slept most of the way, and I wrote to pass the time.”

Mom pulls her arms from me and there’s a distinct shift in her stance. I follow her gaze over my shoulder, turning to find Wyatt walking over to us.

With his duffle bag hanging over his shoulder, he waves. “Hi, Mrs. Bartlett.”

Tears spring in Mom’s eyes. “Oh, Wyatt. Look how you’ve grown. It’s so good to see you.”

Wyatt awkwardly combs his fingers through his hair. “Ah, that’s good to hear. I really appreciate you letting me stay with you.”

“It’s really no trouble,” Mom says, scooping an arm behind Wyatt’s back. “We have a lot to discuss.”

Claire brings Wyatt’s cane and guitar into the arrivals lounge, and wishes us a safe trip home. Mom takes the items, anxiously muttering about whether Wyatt should be walking without the cane. I give her a stern look, wishing for her to cool it as we walk to the car.

I offer Wyatt the front seat, but he opts for the back. Probably a good thing, the way Mom is already spiraling. On the drive home, I stare out the window, and the knots in my stomach ease.

I’m home.

I’m really home.

I look over my shoulder at Wyatt and we exchange smiles.

Wyatt’s finally home.

We pull up at the house and I’m relieved Dad and the twins aren’t waiting out front. It’s Sunday afternoon, so maybe they’re at the park.

I cross my fingers. Please be at the park.

As I open my car door, the house front door opens.

Dang it.

Callum races out of the house, bolting toward the car.

I stand in front of the car, holding out a hand like a stop sign. “Slow down or you’ll hurt yourself.”

“Callum!” Dad’s voice calls out like a warning shot.

I buzz at the sound of it, watching the doorway until Dad appears. I squeal at the sight of him, and then Callum latches onto my middle. I hug my little brother back, walking him backwards as I move toward Dad on the porch.

“Hi Josie, darling,” Dad says, beaming. “So good to have you home. ”

“So glad to be home.”

He moves off the porch, giving me a hug while Callum is strapped to me.

I giggle at the beautifully awkward exchange, and pat Callum’s head when Dad releases me. “How you doing, bud?”

Callum hugs me tighter. “Good, now that you’re home.”

My heart bounces with glee. “Where’s your sister?”

Callum clicks his tongue. “In a mood, as usual.”

Dad has moved past me and I turn to see him shaking Wyatt’s hand. “Good to see you, Wyatt. I hope you’re doing better.”

“I am, thanks,” Wyatt replies. “Getting less headaches, walking better, and not st-stumbling over my words.” Wyatt frowns at himself. “Dang it.”

Dad chuckles, patting Whyatt’s shoulder. “You’re human, son. Good to see that fame hasn’t changed you.”

Callum unlatches from me, eyes bugging at Wyatt. “I can’t believe you actually know the famous guy. I really thought you were making up more stories.”

I scoff at him. “Where did you think I was all week?”

Callum shrugs. “Living in make-believe.”

“You think Mom and Dad let me have a week off school to play pretend by myself?”

Callum stares at me blankly. “Casey said you could have psychological issues.”

Wyatt laughs, planting his hand over his mouth.

I eye him, holding back a laugh. “Don’t encourage him.”

Wyatt lowers his hand, laughter still simmering. “Sorry. It’s just funny because he can say that word and I still can’t.”

I look back at the house. “Seriously, where is Casey?”

Mom pulls the guitar case and Wyatt’s duffle out of the trunk of the car. “Probably still punishing you, Josie. She wasn’t too pleased when you extended your trip.”

I hold my hips. “But I came home.”

Wyatt moves over to Mom, taking the items. “Let me take those inside.”

“Nuh-uh.” Mom motions for Dad to take them instead. “I’m not having any issues before you even step inside the house.” Mom hands Wyatt the walking cane. “You can take this instead.”

“Mrs. Bartlett, I’m really okay. I don’t need...”

Mom smiles at him. “End of discussion.”

Wyatt smiles back and nods. He uses the walking cane to make his way into the house. Mom and Dad carry our luggage, and I take Callum’s hand as we go inside.

“How come he needs a walking cane?” Callum asks, watching Wyatt move. “His leg doesn’t look broken.”

“It’s not broken,” I reply.

“Sometimes when people get hit on the head, it causes all kinds of neurological issues,” Dad says once we’re all inside. “Wyatt could’ve had part of his brain hurt, which meant he needed to relearn to walk.”

“How long did it take to relearn to walk?” Mom asks Wyatt.

“I didn’t com-completely fo-forget how to walk,” Wyatt replies. “I just had balance and co-coord-ordination issues.”

Callum pulls a face. “Is he having an episode?”

My gut drops and I whack Callum’s shoulder. “Do you have no filter?”

Wyatt mumbles a laugh. “It’s okay, Joze.”

“Casey!” Mom calls up the stairs. “We’re home!”

“So!” Casey calls back.

I move over to the bottom of the stairs with Mom. “Come down and tell me you missed me!”

My little sister is definitely in a mood. Loud stomps echo from the upstairs hallway. She appears on the top landing with a grumpy face and crossed arms.

Mom points at the floor by her feet. “Now, missy.”

Casey trudges down the stairs, and stops on the last step in front of me. “Finally.”

I arch an eyebrow. “That’s all you have to say?”

“Yes. You were gone forever.”

I open my arms out wide. “And now I’m back.”

Reluctantly, she hugs me. I rub a circle on her back, hoping to deflate her sour mood.

When I pull out of the hug, I check her expression for something brighter, but she’s quick to move past me.

Casey stomps in front of Wyatt with her arms folded across her chest. “So you’re the guy who kept my sister away?”

Wyatt blinks at her, startled. “Ex-excuse me?”

“ Casey ,” Mom scolds. “Don’t be rude.”

Casey huffs, keeping her stance rigid. “I want to hear what he has to say for himself.”

I step between them. “Listen, you little monster. I told you, Wyatt was in the hospital. He doesn’t have to answer to a snarky ten-year-old.”

Casey rolls her eyes at me. “I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you.”

Her agitated exterior and the vulnerability of her words make me melt. “You’re so annoying, but I love you.”

She drops her crossed arms. “Don’t get too sappy, but I love you too.”

“I’m sorry for keeping your sister away,” Wyatt offers.

Callum points at Wyatt. “Now he’s not stuttering. What’s up with that?”

Casey looks at Wyatt sideways. “You stutter? You don’t stutter in the movies.”

“Okay, kids,” Dad says, placing his hands on Casey’s shoulders. “ Let’s give Wyatt some space. He and Josie have gotten off a long flight.”

“I’m sorry to say, Wyatt,” Mom says, turning a shade of pink, “we only have the pull-out couch as a spare bed. If I had more notice, maybe I could’ve worked something else out. I know it’s nothing fancy but...”

“It’s fine, Mrs. Bartlett,” Wyatt interrupts. “I don’t need anything fa-fancy.”

I gesture at the walking cane, leaning against the couch. “Probably a good thing he won’t be using the stairs.”

Casey wriggles her eyebrows. “You wouldn’t want him going upstairs. Would you, Josie?”

I deadpan her. “Huh?”

Callum’s shoulders jiggle as he laughs. “Your bedroom is full of pictures of him.”

Wyatt grins. “What’s this now?”

A mess of self-loathing embarrassment writhes inside me.

“Stop teasing your sister,” Dad says, having difficulty holding back his laughter.

Wyatt turns to the twins. “How many pictures of me?”

I lunge at the twins, shoving my hands over their mouths before they can speak. “Don’t you dare!”

Mom pats Wyatt’s shoulder. “Let’s just say, Josie never stopped being a fan of yours.”

Wyatt edges toward the staircase. “You don’t think I need to see this, do you?”

It takes me way too long to decide. Should I remove my hands from the twins’ faces, or grab onto Wyatt instead? While my brain malfunctions, Wyatt moves onto the staircase.

“Take it easy up those steps,” Mom says with brewing panic.

With bone-chilling despondency quaking throughout my body, I unlatch my hands from the twins’ faces and edge forward .

“They’re all over her walls!” Callum calls out.

“She’s got problems,” Casey adds on.

Nausea swirls inside me and I grit my teeth. “Quit it, you guys.”

I follow Wyatt up the stairs, ready for the horror on his face when he calls me a crazy stalker.

Wyatt laughs to himself. “I don’t even know which bedroom is yours.”

“You can’t miss it,” Mom says, moving away from the staircase with a snigger.

I send a glare her way, and then hear Wyatt utter, “Oh my...”

The nausea vortexes.

I find him in the doorway of my bedroom with his mouth ajar. He takes in the wall plastered with his images, and even worse, my face taped over Portia’s.

“Holy crap,” whispers out of him.

I jitter behind him. “I swear, I’m not crazy.”

Wyatt splutters a laugh, turning around to face me. “You don’t think I heard you when you called yourself a fan?” He turns back to the room. “I just can’t believe there’s this many pictures of me in existence.”

I cringe as he makes his way into my bedroom.

He points at an image of him and Portia, my face over hers. “ Ha . This I like.”

I press into my feeble stomach. “I seriously never thought I’d see you again. It was harmless fantasy. I know it looks creepy.”

“Creepy?” he questions. “Creepy is thinking about someone I don’t know having this on their walls. At least you and I have a history.”

“So, wait... You don’t find this creepy?”

“It’s somewhat off-putting,” he quips. “But I can’t diss your level of en-enthus... Eh, excitement.”

“I’ve enjoyed following your career.”

Wyatt gasps and zeroes in on the polaroids stuck to the wall. “Wow. These are awesome.”

I brighten. “They’re definitely my favorite thing in this room.”