in. He’s dressed in nothing but a pair of long pants that dip well below his belly button. He tiptoes through the room to grab his hat, but when he looks at me, he realizes I’m watching.
He stops, his shoulders sagging. “I’m sorry about earlier.”
I move back to get a better look at him, bringing my knees to my chest. “Which part?”
“The part where I yelled at you.”
How did these guys enter my life and end up turning the whole thing upside down? I don’t even know if I should be mad at him anymore. Maybe I should be mad at my dad, but even that seems kind of fruitless considering he’s not even here...and maybe he won’t ever be coming back.
“It’s okay,” I say, even though it’s not. Even though those aren’t the right words at all, but I’m not equipped to know the right words. My experience with people is so limited that I’m not sure what’s what and how I should be reacting to anything. It’s sad when you can’t even trust yourself.
Even though I don’t say more, I think Wyatt knows those words were just empty. Just something people say. His gaze drifts to his hat and then back again. “Can I lie next to you?”
I move back, practically plastering myself to the wall, but who am I to deny Wyatt? Not after the night he’s had. He moves into place, staying on top of the covers.
“I was talking to Lucas about his magic fingers when he told me you were the one in the backseat with me. That was kind of awkward.”
I grin at him, thinking it funny he thought I was Lucas, but in the same token, I could see Lucas taking care of him too, running his hands through his hair just like I had.
“It helped ease some of the thoughts in my head,” he says, and for the first time, his vulnerability shines like a spotlight.
I bite my lower lip. “I can do it again, if you want.”
Wyatt shuffles closer, still sporting his innocent face. I move up, placing my pillow up under my rib cage, so I can lie in an elevated position. Wyatt closes his eyes, and I hesitate at first. This seems far too intimate now. Not like before when I knew he needed it but also that he probably wasn’t ever going to remember. He’ll remember it this time. He wants it.
With a breath held in my chest, I work my fingers through his thick, dark hair. He lets out a breath that I swear is more like a sigh or a kitten’s purr. I skim my fingers all the way to the back of his head and then start again. After several minutes, Wyatt turns to his side, facing away from me. I lie my head against my arm, shifting into a more comfortable position while still running my hands through his hair.
On my second pass through, though, my fingers run over a bump. They still for a moment, but keep going, running over that same spot until I realize it’s more like a raised ridge that’s about four to five inches long along the crown of his head. I frown as my fingers run over it time and time again.
What happened to you Wyatt Longhorn?
This will be one of the few times I don’t make up some fantastical story in my head because I’m pretty sure the real story is beyond anything I can imagine.
31
My hand shifts on its own, making me stir from sleep. The bed depresses, and I blink awake to find Wyatt’s back to me. There are freckles sprinkled over his cut form, and I resist the urge to reach out and touch his taut skin.
He stands, pulling his pants up. I almost got a glimpse of the curve of his ass. Instead, his tapered waist is all the view I’m getting. I shift down the bed, and he stills. There’s a pinch in my neck from how I fell asleep. Making him comfortable had been my number one priority, but I hadn’t expected him to stay in my room all night.
He looks toward his hat, then grabs it up, holding it south of his belly button as he turns toward me. He shrugs with a playful grin on his face before glancing down. “I woke up next to a beautiful woman.”
My face colors as I realize what he’s saying. It’s like when I woke Lucas up. He was already hard and waiting