The Singles (57 page)

I’ve given her a lot to think about and said things I never planned on revealing to her, so I know by the time I go to Atlanta, we’ll have hours of conversation ahead of us. There might be tears and maybe even some angry words, but I nod my head, welcoming it. “I know, Mom. I love you, too.”

***

F
or the next twenty-four hours, I let myself absorb my mom’s words, and by the next evening, I know that I’m ready to face Wyatt. I don’t want to lose my nerve, so I don’t call him to let him know I’m on my way as I make the drive to his West Hollywood bungalow.

His car, a fully restored classic Chevelle, is parked in his driveway, and I pull my blue Yaris right behind it. Taking a deep breath, I walk up to his front door. I ring the bell and then clench my fists by my side as I wait for him to answer.

When he pulls open the door a moment later, he’s speaking to someone over his shoulder, but his words are cut off the second he lays his intense blue eyes on me.

Slowly, I take in the sight of him. He’s barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts. My gaze traces over the bluebird tattoo on his chest. It’s healing fast, and I feel a sharp pang in my rib cage. “Hey, I hope you don’t mind me—”

“God, no. Never. Come in.” He’s hesitant to touch me at first, but then he places his palms to the side of my face, pushing back soft wisps of my hair with his thumbs. I tilt my face up to his, not caring that it’s obvious I’m breathing in the subtle scent of his cologne. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he murmurs at last, as he lowers his hands.

He moves aside, and I smile and step into his foyer. He stares at me for a long time until a noise from the hallway makes him turn his eyes away. “Be right there,” he calls out over his shoulder.

“You’re busy,” I say, suddenly feeling stupid. “I can come back later. I can—”

But the other person in the house hears me and cuts me off by saying my name loudly. “Kylie?”

It’s Brenna’s voice, and I lift my head to take in the sight of her just as she comes rushing from the hallway. She runs into me, hard, knocking the air out of my lungs.

“J
esus, kid, you’re getting tall,” I say. I close my arms around the girl clinging to my waist and hold her close. “Next year, you’ll be my height.”

Pulling away from me, she makes a face, and I screw my own into a dramatic pout. We both hold the looks for a long time before she gives up and laughter bubbles from her chest. I’m too nervous to laugh, so I manage a little smile as I tuck a lock of her dark blonde hair behind her ear.

“You’re just fun-sized,” Brenna says. She glances over at Wyatt, who hasn’t moved since she came sprinting into the foyer. “You said Kylie was gone on vacation, Dad.”

He lifts his shoulders slightly, and his eyes search my face, waiting for me to have some type of reaction toward him. “Guess she came back early.”

Brenna beams up at me. “Did you have fun?”

I fold my arms across my stomach, holding myself together. “It was...” I search for the right word, but it doesn’t come to me. I lift my eyes, finally meeting Wyatt’s deep stare head-on. “I’m glad to be home.”

She bobs her head up and down, grabbing my hand to lead me into Wyatt’s living room. Knocking a couple of PlayStation 3 controllers aside, she motions for me to sit beside her on the tan leather couch. Since I’ve never been able to say no to Brenna, I comply. “So, where all did you go?” she demands.

“New Orleans.”

“Lots of good food?”

“Are you kidding? Some of the best.” I catch Wyatt’s blue eyes as he eases down onto the matching loveseat across from us. I wonder if Brenna knows he was in New Orleans with me for a short period of time, but when he gives me a slight shake of his head, I figure he hasn’t told her. “Your dad will have to take you there some day.”

She looks at him expectantly, and he gives her a halfhearted grin. Returning her attention to me, she proudly declares, “Mom’s planning on taking me to Orlando this summer while Dad’s on tour.”

“You going to ride the teacups until you get sick?” I tease.

She wrinkles her nose. “I’m too old for that. I do get to go and see Hog—” 

“Baby,” Wyatt says softly, cutting off Brenna. She lifts her eyebrows impatiently, waiting for him to continue. Wearing that tender smile he’s always reserved exclusively for her, he comes across the room to kneel down in front of us. “Kylie and I need to talk right now. Can you go in your room for a little bit?”

She presses her small lips together and starts to shake her head. Then, she reconsiders, and a slow grin that looks just like his builds on her face. “Pizza for dinner? And
then
you help me beat that level in my game?”

He groans, moving his head from side to side, as he contemplates her offer. “Deal,” he says, surprising both Brenna and me. He’s never been a fan of pizza or video games. “Give me twenty minutes, okay?”

Wearing a look of sheer satisfaction, she leaves the room, and I watch her disappear down the hallway until she closes the door to her bedroom. I rub the pad of my thumb over the first blackbird tattoo, which is located a few inches over my left breast. I got it after Wyatt had confessed to getting a one-night stand pregnant. He’d met her a few months after we’d first made love in that hotel in Livingston, and even though we hadn’t been a couple and we’d agreed that we weren’t seeking a relationship, finding out that he had a baby on the way stung so much that I didn’t speak to him for months.

I didn’t actually meet Brenna until a couple of months after he had come looking for me once I had divorced Brad. Seeing her in person made me instantly regret that first tattoo. Brenna wasn’t one of the letdowns over the last several years.

She’s a piece of him that I’ve always loved fiercely.

“She’s an amazing kid,” I murmur, rubbing my hand across my chest.

As he slides down beside me on the couch, I drop my eyes to his hands. They’re in his lap, clenched, and I can almost guess he’s wondering why I’m here. “I’m not sure what to say, Ky.” His midnight blue eyes skim over my face, as if he’s trying to read my expression. “I fucked up, and I’m sorry.”

Because I’m not ready to touch what happened in Phoenix quite yet, I change the subject quickly. “Courtney dropping her off for the night?” I ask, referring to Brenna’s mother.

He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Courtney’s taking a vacation with her new boyfriend. She’ll be back in a few weeks.”

I frown because I know that the obvious irritation in his voice doesn’t stem from jealousy or not wanting to take care of Brenna—he adores that kid. I’m almost one hundred percent sure he’s frustrated with Courtney because of the way his own mother left him when he was a kid. His bitterness over those memories is one of the reasons why he’s always been such a huge part of Brenna’s life. “I’m glad I got to see her. I’ve missed her,” I say, staring in the direction of the hallway. I can hear music blasting from Brenna’s room, some bubblegum boy band. “I’m surprised you even let her listen to that while she’s here,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood, and he laughs.

“You’re all she’s talked about since she came here. She’s missed you.” He lifts his hands, dragging them through his blond hair. “Fuck, I miss you, Ky.”

“It’s only been eleven days,” I point out, my voice shaking.

“That wasn’t eleven days, not when I’ve spent them thinking you were gone, Kylie. That was fucking agony.”

I stand, clenching my hands together, as I pace in front of the big screen TV. “I didn’t plan to come here, McCrae. I was more than done with you because you lied to me, and then...” My chest tightens up, and I take a deep breath, staring at his bare feet, as he gets up and comes to me.

When he touches my shoulders, I shiver. “So, what changed?” He glides his hands up, so that he can tilt my chin, and I’m forced to meet him eye-to-eye.

“I checked my home voice mail, and message after message was from you. You said things that I’ve only imagined you saying.”

“And so you came here?”

I laugh, but it sounds more like a hysterical gasp. “No. I rearranged my apartment. I wrote a bunch of letters to Sinjin. I played my guitar. Finally, my mother called—”

He stops me from continuing, pressing his rough thumbs to my lips, as the rest of his fingers massage the sides of my face. “Thought you forgot how to play,” he says in a low voice. “At least, that’s what you said back in Albuquerque.”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’d never forget.”

He releases a deep exhale, crushing me to his chest. “Everything that I said in those messages? I meant every goddamn word. For you and that kid in there...” He points in the direction of Brenna’s bedroom. “I’d do anything. I’d give up the music and the lifestyle if you asked me to.”

A bitter ache spreads across the center of my chest. “I would never ask you to do that. You know that, don’t you? I would never make you choose between me and what you love.”

“You are what I love, Ky.” Dropping his hands to my shoulders, he continues. “I don’t know what you want from this anymore, but I know what I need.
You
. And don’t try to bullshit me into thinking that you don’t need me, too. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t.”

“It’s not that simple,” I whisper.

He shakes his head. “I don’t believe that for a second.” His voice, eyes, and even his touch are slowly breaking my heart. “All I know is that you’re all I think about. I can’t
not
have you in my life because you and Brenna are the only two people who give a shit about me.”

“Still doesn’t make it simple, babe.” Dragging my palm across the center of my chest, I close my eyes. “I was stupid for thinking that I could just walk away from us and pretend like the last eight years had never happened. It’s impossible.”

He bends his head, so our lips are practically touching. “Then, we start over and fix things.”

“It won’t be easy, and it sure as hell won’t be quick,” I point out.

He shrugs. “Nothing worthwhile ever is.” As I take a second to digest what he just said, he inches his mouth a little closer. His piercing touches my bottom lip, sending a ripple of pleasure through me. “I fucking love you, Ky. That’s about all I need to know. We can work through all the other shit as long as we have that.”

Even though he’s said it before, both in the messages he left for me and on the night we argued in Phoenix, hearing him tell me that he loves me now takes my breath away. Somehow, I manage to force my voice to sound confident when I respond. “I love you, too.”
So much that I’ll put myself out there one last time to see if one four-letter emotion is enough.

His muscular shoulders sag in relief as he drags me closer to him. He kisses me. It’s a simple yet powerful touch that lasts no longer than ten seconds. “I’m not perfect, Ky. I’ll never be because I’m fucked-up, but I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“I know you don’t,” I say. Ignoring the nervous fluttering in the pit of my stomach, I circle my arms around him tighter, losing myself in the way he holds me to him.

“Can I come out now?” Brenna shrieks from the back over the sound of boy band falsetto.

“Not listening to that you can’t,” he bellows, and she cuts the music abruptly.

“Happy, Dad?”

I can’t help but laugh as I wipe the backs of my hands over my cheeks to get rid of the tears that have started to fall.

“We’re good now,” Wyatt yells back.

Her bedroom door flies open, and she races down the hallway, jumping onto the couch. She ignores Wyatt’s pointed frown and eyes me suspiciously. “Is everything okay?” 

I glance at Wyatt and then to her. “It’s going to be.”

“Are you staying for dinner?”

“If your dad is paying.”

We both focus our gazes—her blue eyes and my brown—on Wyatt until he nods his head. “But we order in tonight,” he says, and she suppresses a groan. “And no making Kylie play that fuc—”

“Dad!” she says sharply.

He groans. “
Your
video game.”

***

M
uch later in the evening, after Brenna falls asleep on the floor playing her video game, Wyatt goes to the back room. He returns a few minutes later, holding two guitars, and then he extends one out to me. At first, I start to decline since Brenna’s only a few feet away, but he places the Fender in my lap. Taking my hands in his, he wraps my fingertips around the neck of the custom black guitar.

He sits across the room from me on the loveseat, gripping his guitar, and a tiny smile builds on my lips when he strums the opening of “Send the Pain Below.” It’s one of those songs that I’ll never forget, that will always have a special meaning for me, but it seems so wrong when we’re supposed to be trying again.

Grabbing my pick off the side table, I start playing a new song. He pauses, and it takes him a moment to figure out the chords I’m struggling to strum through. Even though he doesn’t know it well because he’s never been an Incubus fan, he catches on quickly as we pick through the song about love surviving the bad things.

When we reach the last line of the song, I can’t help but sing along softly. “Without love, I won’t survive.”

His eyes never leave mine, and I think about our bad times and our good. I’m hopeful that, this time, things will work, so we can make new memories that won’t hurt so damn much.

Still, I savor every part of our past.

-The End of
Savor You
-

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T
hank you so much to my readers—to YOU—for being so amazing. Your enthusiasm and support for my books amaze me on a daily basis, and I feel so blessed to have you. Thank you for all the emails, reviews, and Facebook messages. You rock my world!

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