Page 73 of Wild Rivals

I hold my breath as I look at Kade. We’ve never not agreed on our business dealings, but this is different; this one is personal. More personal than when I first set out to take the land out from under her.

“This is insane.” Kade exhales, shaking his head. “Looks like we’re doing it then. I’ll head back to my office and reach out to Max?”

Tension seeps out of my body as they all file out of Grayson’s office. We’ll get the wheels in motion on our end, but I’ll give it a few days before I let Maddie know. Hell, I might not even tell her myself. I don’t want her to think that I’m doing this so that she feels obligated to be with me. That’s the last thing I want; I just want to fix this. To undo the pain I caused her by taking it in the first place.

44

MADDIE

Nerves flutter in my stomach and for a moment as I navigate my truck along the track to Wyatt’s place, I wonder if I’ve left it too late and he won’t want to see me. Different scenarios run through my mind, but I only hold on to the ones where he welcomes me with open arms and tells me how much he’s missed me, that he’s never letting me go.

His truck is parked in the exact same spot as it was the last time I was here, and I suck in a breath as I stare up at the two-story house. I felt so different back then, fueled by my anger. Hell, I barely gave myself time to think, and yet, now, it’s a different kind of urgency spurring me on.

Exhaling, I cut the engine and climb from the cab. If I sit in the truck, it’s highly likely that I won’t make it to the front door and this conversation needs to happen. I want it to happen.

Gravel crunches beneath my feet and every step I take feels laden with my guilt at having cut myself off from him. I should have let him in, I know this now.

A lump forms in my throat and I rest a hand against my stomach as I reach the front door, like it will somehow ease the butterflies swarming in it. I’ve never been so nervous to have a conversation; even when I’ve pitched for weddings or corporate retreats, I’m excited and buzzing with energy. All I feel now is nauseous and the heavy weight of uncertainty at what will be waiting for me behind the door.

I lift my hand and knock.

There’s no turning back now. Not that I want to.

It feels like an eternity before I hear the sound of the lock clicking on the other side. Wyatt opens the door, his hair slightly disheveled, as if he’s been running his hands through it. The sight of him soothes me and I feel some of the tension ease out of me, only to be replaced by a longing ache in my chest.

“Mad?” he utters, almost like he can’t quite comprehend that I’m standing here.

“Hi,” I whisper nervously. “Do you mind if I come in?”

He steps back, giving me plenty of space as I pass.

I wipe my suddenly damp palms over my hips as I turn toward him. He looks good, in his dark wash denim jeans and white T-shirt.

Wyatt closes the door, before facing me. “Hi,” he murmurs, his gaze bouncing around my face like he’s trying to catalogue every inch.

I know what he’ll see. I’ve lost weight because it’s been hard to find the will to eat, especially when the place I make food is the same one where my world came crashing down. Dark circles now peek through my makeup no matter how good the coverage claims to be, because I haven’t been sleeping. I either see Daddy and replay our last conversation, or I see Wyatt and the hurt on his face before he left my place for the last time.

“I hope you don’t mind that I’m here,” I say, suddenly feeling awkward.

He blinks before stepping forward as if he might touch me before he catches himself. “Not at all. Come, let’s sit.” Leading the way to the living room, he asks, “Would you like a drink? Something to eat?”

“No, thank you. I just have a few things I want to say, so I won’t keep you long,” I reply, watching as he takes a seat on the couch.

I couldn’t sit down even if he begged me; there’s too much angsty energy rushing through me. Instead, I pace in front of the coffee table as I try to align the words in my mind so that they make sense.

All the while, Wyatt watches me patiently, never pressuring me to hurry.

“I’m sorry,” I say, scrubbing a hand over my forehead as I feel the pressure of a headache starting up. I should have rehearsed something before coming over here, but it was busy at work, and I didn’t want to take a second to slow down in case I chickened out.

“You don’t have to apologize, Mad. I’m glad you’re here.”

“You are?” I ask, coming to a stop as I face him, his words calming the chaos inside me.

The corner of his mouth kicks up like my question is silly. “Yeah. I meant it when I said that I missed you.”

Emotion clogs my throat and I feel an all-too-familiar stinging sensation at the back of my eyes. “You did?”

He stands, maneuvering around the coffee table before pulling me into his arms. I sink against him and it feels like coming home. “Of course. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”