Page 54 of Shy Girls Can’t Date Celebrities (Shy Girls Sweet Romances #6)

He smiles at the sixth grade versions of us in the treehouse. “And the treehouse is still standing?”

“Yes. We should leave this cringe-inducing room and go check it out.”

Wyatt chuckles. “You really can’t stop squirming, can you?”

I yank on his arm. “Besides, my dad will come up here and enforce his no-boys-in-the-bedroom rule.”

Wyatt’s eyebrows lift. “How often do you have boys over?”

I smirk. “Never.”

“Then why is it a rule?”

I lift my palms questioningly. “Because I’m sixteen?”

As I pull Wyatt across the carpet, he tugs me back, glancing at the albums lying on my desk. “Whoa. These are mine?”

“Pretty cool, huh?”

He lifts up the cardboard covers, flipping them over and examining both sides. “Really fr-freaking cool. I didn’t even know they still made these.”

“I have every Wyatt Hayes collector’s item imaginable.”

Wyatt grins looking around the room. “That I can believe.”

“Come on.” I beckon. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Okay, I’ll let you stop squirming,” he teases, following me out of the room.

When we make it back downstairs, Mom calls out that she’s getting dinner ready. Meanwhile, Dad is arguing with the twins in the living room. I encourage Wyatt to take the opportunity with me to sneak outside without them following.

Wyatt gasps as we move across the backyard. “It’s just as I remember it.”

I love seeing the nostalgia pour glee into his expression as his eyes wander the treehouse.

“We should’ve brought your guitar out here.”

Wyatt carefully climbs into the treehouse. “It’s okay. I’m a bit wiped. I’m happy to just sit out here.”

I crouch beside him as we smile at crude artwork on the walls, board games piled in the corner, and childhood costumes in a busted crate.

“The twins are so blunt,” Wyatt says with a nervous laugh. “They took me off guard since being around the suits, who kept trying to kiss my butt.”

“Yeah, lucky I’m related to them, or I might not love them,” I joke.

“It’s really nice that your family has welcomed me here,” he says. “It’s a lot to ask when you’ve just gotten home.”

“They adore you.”

“No, I think I’m the consolation prize. They only took me so they could get you home.”

“No, you’re the bonus prize. Having you here is better than just having me home.”

He takes my hand and kisses my cheek. “There’s no just when it comes to you.”

I awe. “Well that was positively sickly sweet.”

He laughs. “No good?”

I giggle and wrap an arm around his.

He pats my hand and reclines against the pine wall. “I love how quiet it is here. Life’s happening, and your family is busy, but I don’t feel pressure.”

“I’m glad you don’t feel the pressure.”

He looks at me sideways. “Are you okay?”

I blow out a breath. “Yeah, of course. I’m so happy to be home, but there is a lot of pressure here. Mom and Dad are busy, trying not to show their stress. ”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your problem.”

“But I care about your problems.”

“They both work a lot, and Dad has crazy long commutes. I don’t know how they managed the twins without me.”

“Oh.”

“I help a lot with them before and after school.”

“It’s easy to see how much you were missed. I feel like a jerk for keeping you away for so long.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because your family needed you.”

I rub warmth into his arm. “You needed me too.”

“I didn’t have any clue about your homelife.” He sighs at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to feel guilty. I’m happy to be back with my family, but even happier that you’re here too.”

He rubs the side of his head. “I wonder how long we can make this last.”

“Our pull-out couch is certainly no California king bed in a penthouse.”

Wyatt smirks. “I bet it’ll be the closest thing to home I’ve slept on for a long time.”

I nestle into him. “I’m so glad you’re here, Wyatt.”

His hands press into the middle of my back. “Me too. I was so sick at the thought of you coming here without me.”

“But you’ll be okay when you go back?”

“I have another therapy call coming up soon,” he replies. “I’ll need to ask the doc how to survive my new work and homelife.”

“If it’s stressing you out, you should take a step back. I’m sure if you told Dr. Fincher, you weren’t coping, he’d tell Circle 8 you’re not fit for work. ”

“Especially after them using Portia to manipulate me back into the studio.”

“You really need some time away from the suits. They’re rushing you.”

“Well, like I said, the pressure is already off.”

I smile and trace a finger under his chin. “That’s so great.” I peck his lips, and then say, “I hope my mom’s panic doesn’t trigger you.”

“Your mom genuinely worries about everyone. It’s sweet.”

“We’ll see how long sweet lasts before it becomes grating.”

“Considering who I’ve been exposed to for the past few months, I think it’ll last a while.”

“She’ll love having someone around who doesn’t roll their eyes at her.”

Wyatt chuckles. “I get an ache when I do that, so I’ll keep her happy.”

“How is your headache?”

“ Really dull. I feel really good, Joze. Truly.”

Before I can respond, the distinct slide of the back door sounds and then the racing of ten-year-old feet hit the backyard.

I hunch in my seated position. “Ugh.”

Wyatt mumbles a laugh as Callum and Casey bustle their way into the treehouse. They plant themselves directly in front of us, forcing Wyatt and me to break apart.

“So what’s it like making movies?” Callum blurts.

“Ah, I don’t...”

Before Wyatt can get through a response, Casey talks over him. “Is Circle 8 a cult?”

Wyatt laughs in astonishment. “Huh? What?”

“Circle 8 all work together. You only make movies and music with people in the group,” she elaborates. “Sounds like a cult to me.”

I click my tongue, unable to look at her. “What would you know about cults?”

She crosses her arms. “I have the internet.”

“I’m going to tell Mom and Dad to cut your connection.”

“As if.” She pokes her tongue out at me. “Dad’s the one who showed me where to find the videos.”

I huff in exasperation. “It’s so annoying how he encourages you to question everything.”

“I’m sorry I don’t think everything is sunshine and rainbows like you and Callum,” Casey argues.

I smirk at her. “I don’t think everything’s full of hope. A lot of things really suck.”

Callum pouts. “Like Wyatt getting hurt?”

I pat Callum’s knee. “Yeah, like that.”

Wyatt opens his arms wide, smiling. “I’m getting better.”

“A cane and a stutter seem pretty bad,” Callum reluctantly replies.

“I read online that some neurological issues never heal,” Casey says flatly.

I glare at her. “No one needs to hear that, Casey.”

She shrugs. “I’m just saying, he might never get his memory back.”

Horror sweeps over Callum’s face. “ Never ?”

Wyatt sits taller. “I’ll remember. It already feels like it’s coming back.”

“How?” the twins say at once.

Wyatt rubs the side of his head. “It’s hard to explain. Inside my head, it feels like there’s fog over part of my mind. Every now and then, it feels like it’s lifting, but never quite does.”

Callum beams. “So, one day all the fog will disappear?”

Wyatt nods optimistically. “Exactly.”

I nudge Casey. “See. Sometimes there is sunshine and rainbows.”

Casey eyes Wyatt skeptically. “Maybe.”

“Kids!” Mom calls from the back door. “Come on in for dinner. ”

“Thank goodness,” I mutter, and follow everyone out of the treehouse of interrogation.

Back inside the house, Callum races ahead. “Can I sit next to Wyatt?”

I nudge Wyatt. “I think you have a fan.”

“I’ll take it,” Wyatt replies. “It’s nice compared to the third degree from Casey.”

“She can’t help it. Dad’s programmed her as a little cynic.”

We move into the dining room and Wyatt and I sit opposite, Callum next to him, and Casey next to me. Dad takes the head of the table, and Mom sits opposite him after serving our dinner plates.

“Mmm,” Wyatt purrs. “Smells amazing.”

“I hope you like it,” Mom says with rosy cheeks. “I know you’ve been used to fine dining.”

“The best meal I’ve had was when Josie and I watched old movies and ate pizza,” Wyatt says, eyeing me while wearing the cutest smile. “But your home cooking might have that beat.”

“They’re black bean and squash enchiladas,” Mom says. “I’ve never used vegan cheese, but it looks like it held together.”

Casey screws up her face. “Vegan-what-now?”

“You won’t even be able to tell the difference,” Dad tells her.

Casey grumbles at her plate. “Tell that to Mom’s face.”

“It was just something new to try,” Mom says, frazzled. “You know I get nervous when I try something new.”

Callum cracks up, nudging Wyatt. “Mom gets nervous no matter how many times she tries something.”

Wyatt takes a bite and smiles. “It’s awesome, Mrs. Bartlett.”

While Mom thanks Wyatt, Callum quickly shovels in a mouthful of food. “Yeah,” Callum mumbles. “It’s good.”

“Don’t talk with your mouthful,” Dad tells him.

Mom laughs to herself. “It’s good to see Callum trying something new. We need to have Wyatt over for dinner more often if it actually gets this boy to eat.”

I smile, ignoring the fact my family is now onboard with vegan eating, despite my prior efforts to bring it into the dinner rotation. My heart is just too full, watching Callum’s adoration. Yep, definitely a mini superfan.

“Are we just glossing over this vegan part?” Casey asks, gesturing with her fork. “What the heck is this cheese made from?”

“Soy,” I say matter-of-factly.

She deadpans me. “Soy?”

“Yes.”

“As in, the stuff we put on fried rice?”

I stifle my laugh. “Yes, it all comes from soybeans.”

Casey pulls a face, which Mom and Dad are quick to tell her to drop.

Callum speaks with another mouthful of food. “It’s good, Casey. Try it.”

Casey huffs, rolls her eyes, and stabs her fork into her enchilada. “Should I say my final words?”

Everyone at the table huffs in frustrated annoyance.

Casey’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Just eat it,” we all say at once, erupting in laughter when Casey’s eyes slit as she takes her first bite.

“Not so bad, huh?” Dad says, bouncing in his laughter.

Casey grunts a response, keeping her eyes fixed on her plate.

I happily take another bite of my dinner, satisfied we muted the mini skeptic.

The chatter throughout dinner is light and breezy, but when Mom starts clearing the dinner plates, I notice a shared look between her and Dad. There’s a definite shift in the air when she returns from the kitchen.

“Casey and Callum,” Mom says, somewhat on edge. “Why don’t you two go watch some TV before dessert.”

Casey wriggles her eyebrows. “Why don’t you give us dessert now?”

Dad points toward the living room. “It’s not a debate. Just go.”

The twins grumble as they scoot their dining chairs backward and leave the room.

Wyatt and I share a look, having not been excused from the table.

“So, we think we need to discuss something,” Dad says, lacing his hands together on the dining table.

The way he looks at Wyatt makes me squirm. Is he going to say we should cut off all contact? That he doesn’t approve of us being together when Wyatt’s so famous?

Dad shifts in his seat, and says, “Wyatt, we’re really concerned about your relationship with your parents.”

My stomach flips inside-out. First, squirming at the word ‘relationship’ and going on a rollercoaster of emotions by the end of his sentence.

Wyatt gulps. “You are?”

“You’re so young to have such a fractured relationship with them,” Mom says, eyes growing glassy. “We were hoping there was some way we could help.”

“We’re happy to talk to them,” Dad offers. “If that’s something you would like.”

“Uh, th-thanks, Mr. and Mrs. Ba-Bartlett.” Wyatt clears his throat, his browning furrowing. “But it’s really complicated. Like, they changed at some point when my career took off.”

“Doesn’t mean things can’t be mended,” Mom says gently.

“I don’t want to put my parents behind a wall,” Wyatt defends. “But they’re not the same people. I don’t like being a bank for them.”

“You’re more than a bank,” Dad says.

“They were desperate for me to get b-better and go b-back to work. ”

“I’m sure they were desperate for you to get better,” Mom says. “Going back to work would’ve been the cherry on top.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying,” Wyatt says, bracing himself. “But you haven’t seen them in three years.”

Mom sighs, wiping the tears from her lash line. “It’s just so sad,” she murmurs. “I hate the idea of you being divided from them. Family is so important for us. We just want to fix it for you.”

Wyatt smiles at her. “Th-thanks, that’s really nice. Considering the adults around me have been en-encouraging me to sever ties with them.”

“Josie mentioned emancipation.” Dad grows rigid in his seat. “I don’t think it was a great idea for you to sign documents when you’re recovering from a neurological issue. I’m worried they’re taking advantage of you.”

“I signed it because it felt like a relief at the time.”

Dad leans forward. “And now?”

Wyatt twists his lips and shrugs. “I dunno.”

“We were thinking we could invite them here,” Dad says.

I wriggle uncomfortably in my seat. “ Dad .”

Wyatt swipes the clamminess from his brow. “Look I really app-app-appreciate this, but...”

“It was just a suggestion,” Mom rushes. “Something for you to think about.”

Wyatt nods. “I will.”

“We’re just concerned, that’s all,” Dad says softly. “We want to help you make things better.”

Wyatt forces a smile. “Thanks.”

I finally take a breath. “Can we drop this now?”

Dad leans back and shares a look with Mom. “Sure. Sounds like it’s time for pie.”

Mom gets up from the table at the same time as Dad. “Yes. We picked up a lovely key lime pie when we heard you were coming home. It’s vegan.”

“That’s awesome, Mrs. Bartlett.”

When Mom and Dad leave for the kitchen, I reach a hand across the table and latch onto Wyatt. “I’m so sorry they put you on the spot like that.”

“It’s fine. They were only trying to help.”

“But like you said, they don’t know the real situation.”

“But they care. That’s all that really matters.”

“I’ll make them back off, if you want.”

Wyatt lifts my hand and kisses it. “No. I like them just how they are.”

Casey and Callum race back into the dining room.

“You get to read to us in person tonight,” Callum cheers.

“You better have something amazing prepared for us,” Casey says with an eager grin.

Wyatt smiles at me. “You do bedtime stories?”

“They’re my critics,” I reply. “They’re first to hear all the stories I write.”

“Oh, I’m jealous,” Wyatt says.

Callum loops an arm around Wyatt. “You can come upstairs and listen to the story too.”

“Thanks, little man.”

Casey huffs, folding her arms. “As long as you don’t talk through it.”

Wyatt laughs and draws an X over his heart. “I promise I won’t.”