Page 7 of Wyatt

Sitting up, I rake a hand down my face and look over at my reflection in the mirror that hangs above the small bookcase that holds all my romance novels. My face looks the same as it did three months ago, but I don’t feel like the same person.

In some ways, I feel a little stronger than I did before. I left everything I knew and made a life for myself as best I could. My job isn’t as amazing as my old one and the bar is pretty rundown, but the people who work there are nice and treat me well. In other ways though, the ways that really matter, I feel weaker. My heart is heavy with how much I miss my family. Leaving felt brave at the time, but feels less so the more time passes.

It took less than twelve hours of being gone before I broke down and called Scarlett, crying and telling her how sorry I was that I was going to miss her birthday the next week. She tried to convince me to come home, and I almost did, but then I remembered Wyatt laughing lightly and telling me he was drunk when he kissed me, and I knew I had to stay gone, at least until I could face him without feeling the same humiliation I felt the night of my birthday.

When I told her I was staying gone, she said she understood and that she would be there for me whenever I needed. She’s the best friend a girl could have, and I miss her so much it hurts.

My phone vibrates against my nightstand, and when I see Scarlett’s name flashing across the screen I smile and make a grab for it. It looks like our bestie telepathy is as good as it ever was even though we’re over an hour away from one another. “Hey, Scar.”

I hear a huff of breath over the speaker. “Don’t ‘Hey, Scar’ me,” she grumbles. “It’s been three months to the day, Georgie. Can you please come home now? Or at least tell me where you are so I can run away and come live with you? My brothers are driving me up the damn wall. Every time I try to go out, they find some excuse for why I can’t go. I need space.”

I laugh at her complaining because it’s basically the same refrain I hear every day when we talk to one another. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that,” I say, standing up and heading to the tiny kitchenette and turning on the hot plate so I can fry an egg. My mind drifts back to all the times I cooked in the Landry kitchen and I add another item to my must have list for the next place I live. Must have a stove and oven.

Scarlett’s snort brings me back to the present. “Please. Albie is teething, so Sawyer is dog tired all the time and acting like a lion with a thorn in its paw. Lacey is damn near ready to pop and Brooks is freaking out that they haven’t picked out names yet. Mav isn’t as bad, but he keeps bugging me to go to one of Violet’s yoga classes and gets all mad if I don’t. It’s been hell. I swear if my brothers don’t stop acting like a bunch of angry bears I’m going to lose my shit.”

“Sounds like you already have,” I tell her, smiling at her flustering when I know she wouldn’t trade her brother’s for anything. I notice that once again she hasn’t mentioned Wyatt. It’s not unusual. Aside from the first conversation we had where she tried to get me to tell her what he said that made me run off and I told her I just needed to get over my crush on him, she never brings him up and neither do I.

I miss Wyatt. I miss him so much that it hurts and I spend most of my nights tossing and turning, either upset that he so casually kissed me and then brushed it aside, and also turned on at the memory of that kiss and just how much being with him, even only for those few seconds lit up my soul.

I’ve managed to quell my curiosity about him over the last little while, but for some reason, I just can’t anymore. Maybe I miss him too much or maybe I’m over the whole thing enough to not feel a slice of pain in my heart every time I hear his name. “How’s your other brother?”

Scarlett stays quiet for a long moment for answering. My thoughts immediately go to him having met someone special and getting ready to marry just like his brothers have. The Landrys seem to be dropping like flies when it comes to being single, so it wouldn’t be a shock, just another little stab to the heart.

“Wyatt’s actually doing really well,” she says, a small bit of surprise in her voice. “He’s been working on a few things here and there, always talking about working towards his future.”

“Future?” Maybe he has met someone and is trying to build a life for them. That fact hurts more than I thought it would, and I have to rub at my chest to ease the pain in my heart. “What kind of future?”

Scarlett exhales slowly. “I don’t know exactly. He’s always talking nonsense,” she tells me, brushing whatever her brother is up to aside. “Honestly, I stopped listening after a while.”

“Course you did,” I say, wishing she had paid more attention so I would have more information. Even though her brothers are annoying her, it sounds like everyone is doing well. When I told myself they didn’t need me anymore, a small part of me hoped that wasn’t true, but I guess it was. I’m glad that they are all happy, but I’m still a bit sad that my leaving wasn’t as big a deal as it could have been. “Seems you’re all okay. That’s good, real good.”

“Is that what you got from all I just said?” Scarlett asks, her voice high-pitched and irritated. “My brothers are on a tear and I am miserable here without my best friend.” She huffs into the speaker and the guilt I feel at having abandoned her is immediate. “Can you at least tell me where you are so I can come and see you or something? I know you won’t come back here, but I need a break from these goons and a hug from my ride or die.”

It’s the same question she’s asked me almost every time I hear from her. I think over her request and just how amazing it would feel to have her come and visit me, even if only for a little while. “Well…” I say, trailing off as I feel all my resolve crumble.

“Pleeeaaasssee,” she whines into the phone, and I laugh at just how much she sounds like she did when we were younger and she was begging her daddy for a ride on the tractor. Her old man never gave in, but I’m not as strong as he was.

“Okay, fine,” I tell her, putting her on speaker as I text her the address to my apartment. “I have to work tonight though, so maybe you can come up tomorrow. Sunday is still your day off, right?”

“Yup,” she says happily. “Now that I know you’re in…Oklahoma City? You’ve been that close the whole time?!” She asks incredulously. Before I can answer, she’s already talking again. “Where are you working? Sawyer told me no one’s called to ask for a reference, so I know it’s nowhere that great.”

I grumble at her words even though they’re true. It’s not the best place, but the people are decent to me, and I get good tips from the customers, even if they do tend to get into arguments and bar fights with each other. “Oh, um…” I mumble the name of the bar into the speaker, but of course she doesn’t hear me.

“What was that?” She asks, and since I know she won’t let me off the hook until I say, I go ahead and give up the name of my place of employment.

“The Angry Cock,” I say, bracing myself for her giggles. Even saying the name of the bar with a red rooster as its logo still makes me blush.

I can hear Scarlett trying to contain her laughter on the other end, but eventually she gives up and starts to cackle. “Are you for real? The Angry Cock?” Her laughter gets louder and louder until I have to hold the phone away from my face. “What kind of place even is that?”

Straightening my posture to look as proud as can be even though she can’t see me, I try to explain things as best I can. “It’s a bar, and I hate to disappoint you, but the logo is a red rooster, so it isn’t that kind of cock.”

Scarlett’s laughter dies off. “What kind of bar? Is it safe?” Her voice sounds genuinely worried, so I do my best to ease her mind.

“It’s a safe as anywhere else in the city. The guys who work there are really nice and the bouncer looks out for us waitresses, so I feel okay working there,” I tell her. “Besides, I saved up a lot while living with you guys and I live pretty frugally, so I only need to work a few hours each night to make enough to pay rent and stuff.”

The pan is finally hot enough and I crack an egg into it, listening to the sizzle as I fry up my breakfast for the day. Cooking for one is certainly much easier than cooking for nine, but I miss making more complicated meals that what I cook for myself.

“Well, I don’t like it and when I come up there the first thing we’re going to do is get you a new job,” she commands, her voice all authority. “Or you could just come home.”