Wish for You (8 page)

I still have no idea what people are referring to when they say that particular phrase. Intermittent phone calls and sketchy internet connections made it impossible to keep up with pop culture or the latest sayings. Sometimes, it feels as though I’m two years behind. But I guess if I really want to know what’s going on, I could do a YouTube search, or go hang out with Beau.

Dude loves to gossip.

“
A smile while you’re in my office? Don’t tell me that all it took was two cancellations,” Dr. Lewis jokes.

I swing my gaze his way. “I hadn’t realized I was smiling.” I know there isn’t a smile on my face now.

The Doc inclines his head. “How are things going with Lacey?”

His question takes me by surprise. Usually, he talks around the questions he wants answers to, making me spill my guts before I know what’s happening. I’m convinced the guy was a general in a former life.

“
We’re moving in together.” I say this right as he takes a sip of his coffee. He sputters a little, then composes himself and sets the mug down. I take pity on him. “Her parents are moving to a foreign country. She can’t go, and she needs a place to stay. Everything that’s remotely livable is out of her price range. So… I offered to help her out,” I give him a winning smile, “like any good
friend
would do.”

He sucks in a breath. “Wyatt, whatever you think this will accomplish, I can assure you it won’t.”

“
She needed a place to stay. I provided it. Mission accomplished,” I point out. What I don’t say, what I don’t share—all the things that scare the shit out of me. All the things she could discover about me. All the things I’ve kept hidden.

“
It’s not my place to tell you when you’re wrong.”

“
Then why start now?”

Dr. Lewis gives me a patented exasperated look. It’s just this side of fatherly disapproval. “But it is my place to tell you to consider the consequences of your actions.”

“
I went on a date. Lacey introduced us.”

His eyebrows raise. “Really?”

“
Yes, really.”

“
And how did that go?”

“
Fine.”

I swear I hear his teeth grind. “Describe
fine
.”

“
We talked, we laughed, and we had a few beers. Her background is similar to mine. Good student, respects her family, inked, and is pre-med. Like a match made in Heaven.”

This time, the Doc smiles. “Great first step. I’m proud of you.”

And with that pronouncement, I feel about an inch tall. My skin feels too tight, and I know I’m a liar, a drunk, and a self-medicating asshole… among other things, but he doesn’t. Lacey doesn’t. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the charade.

Secrets always have a way of coming out at the exact moment you wished they wouldn’t.

***

Lacey’s waiting for me when I get home. She’s standing by the front door, a suitcase in one hand, her familiar, purple roller derby bag on her shoulder, and a sweet smile on her face. In every dream I’d had while serving in Afghanistan, this was how it started, with her waiting for me. I take her hand, lead her to my bedroom, to the bed, and somehow we’d end up pressed skin to skin, my hands and mouth finally on her breasts, her nipples, and between her thighs.

Then I notice Mrs. Evans, and I reel myself back in. No need for Lacey’s mother to see how eager I am to get her daughter in my house.

“
Hi, Mrs. Evans. Lacey. Ready to move in?” I shove my hands in my coat pocket and pull out the spare key I had made last week. I’d carried it with me everywhere, like some sort of talisman.

“
Wyatt,” her mom says by way of greeting.

“
My mom wanted to see your house,” Lacey says as I hand her the key.

“
Why don’t you give her the tour?” I gesture for Lacey to unlock the door. Thankfully, I had the condo cleaned, again, from top to bottom. “I’ll wait out here.”

“
No need for that. I can show myself around,” Mrs. Evans says, walking inside, without Lacey and me.

Lacey turns her pretty eyes on me. “My parents aren’t thrilled, but they’re leaving this weekend.”

This weekend?
“I thought they weren’t leaving until the end of the month.”

“
They have to go down to Mississippi first, and didn’t take that into account.”

How could they not take that into account? Don’t they know how much change bothers Lacey? They are her parents, for fuck’s sake. I rub my hand over my face and bite back a curse. “Are you kidding?” I can’t help but ask.

“
They didn’t do it on purpose.”

“
It doesn’t matter!” I practically shout the words at her, though my voice is low. Her face pales, and that familiar protective feeling washes over me. “I’m sorry. I’m just… concerned.” I’m more than concerned and, right now, I don’t care how much I reveal to her. She’s hurting, and I want to hurt the people making her hurt—including myself.

Lacey looks away, her gaze on the floor. She swings her suitcase back and forth, until I take it from her. “Thank you,” she says softly.

“
Is there more stuff downstairs?”

She nods. “A couple of boxes. I hope you don’t mind.”

“
It’s your home, too. What’s mine is yours.” Her head jerks up, and I flush. So much for not caring how much I reveal.

“
Wyatt
. You didn’t,” she says, the unfinished accusation wedging between us. “How am I supposed to—?”

“
Lacey? Wyatt?” Mrs. Evans calls from inside the condo, and I clench my jaw. I want to slam the door closed and demand that Lacey finish what she was saying. How was she supposed to do what? There were a million ways she could end that sentence—a million ways she could have shredded my heart, once again.

Lacey turns away, walking inside. I take a perverse pleasure at watching her walk, her hips swaying beneath the loose pants she’s wearing. Today it’s warmer than usual. Instead of a wool sweater, she wears a long-sleeved, light pink shirt with a vintage ad for flowers.

What I wouldn’t give to see her in one of my shirts… or to see her walking around the living room wearing one of my shirts and a pair of tiny panties. What I wouldn’t give to see what kind she wears… Boy cut, thongs, bikini cut. I might be pushing my erotic daydreams to imagine finding out Lacey doesn’t wear anything under her clothes.

A part of me wants to pray that she’s allergic to panties.
Severely
allergic
. So allergic that once things change between us, and I have every confidence in the world it will, clothes will start to bother her, and she’ll have no choice but to stay bare-assed naked. Though her allergy would conveniently go away when she needed to go out in public, or if we had company.

I blink, wondering what in the hell was in that joint I’d had earlier, to calm me down, that would make me have such a fucked-up and illogical thought process about a girl whose family was leaving her. Next time, I wouldn’t get my stuff from my cousin. In fact, I’d stay clean—no matter how much I rationalized in my head that weed should be legal.

Currently it, and every other hardcore drug, is illegal, and I am a moron for breaking the law. Wouldn’t that be the way to Lacey’s heart?

Hey babe, I know I’m serving time for possession, but if you just wait for me to get my shit together, I’ll never touch any of it again.

Only, I know the hard truth about myself. I’d do it again. And again. And again, until the blue faded from Nathan’s eyes, and he never haunted my thoughts again.

Chapter Nine

Lacey

I can’t put my finger on it, but something’s off with Wyatt. I’m not sure if he’s high or hungover, because he has yet to take off his sunglasses. Something my mom considers the ultimate in rudeness. I take a little sniff, but all I smell is him, his cologne, and that male scent that makes me want to bury my nose in the crook of his neck.

“
How often do you have parties?” my mom asks. She’s on question twenty of about a hundred, but Wyatt is patient as he answers each one.

“
Not very often, ma’am.” He finally takes off his sunglasses and tosses them onto the closest table.

“
I wouldn’t have believed you if you’d said none.” She smiles, patting him on the arm. “You’re a good boy… Excuse me, a good man. Joe and I appreciate you helping Lacey out like this. After much praying and deliberating, we’ve decided that we will support Lacey becoming your roommate. She’s almost twenty, and it’s time she makes decisions for herself.”

I want to sink into a hole and yell at her at the same time. It’s like she’s talking about another person, a helpless person who has no clue how to do anything. I’ve had a job since I was fourteen; I’ve always studied hard, helped out at home, and found a way to attend college, without becoming a burden to my family. A little credit would have been nice, not this ingratiating thankfulness toward Wyatt.

I bristle, my hand curling around my roller derby bag. I haven’t skated all week, because I’ve been helping them pack and keeping the little ones entertained. Because of this, I can’t do the charity bout. The rules state that if you miss practice, no skating in bouts or games. I’ve missed four practices, and rules are meant to be followed.

Rules make me feel better. Rules—

Wyatt and my mom are both staring at me, like I’ve just missed an entire conversation and should have said something. Which is probably true.

“
What?”

Wyatt is the first to stop staring. “I’m going to go get the rest of your stuff.”

As he leaves, my mom takes my hand, leading me to the couch. She gives me a wobbly smile. “Everyone wanted to come, but I thought it would be too much.”

“
I’ll come by on Friday to say goodbye.” The thought of my family leaving me makes my heart race, and not in a good way. I’ve never been one of those people who counted the day until they could move out. I love my family, like I love Wyatt. Well, it’s a different kind of love, but it fills my heart in the same way.

My mom opens her purse and takes out an envelope. “This is a little something your dad and I have been saving up for you, for when you would be able to move out on your own.”

I take it from her and open it, counting the bills. My mouth falls open in shock, and I jerk my head up. “Five hundred dollars?”

“
We would have liked it to have been more, but…” She lifts her shoulder helplessly, as if in apology.

“
It’s too much! I can’t take it. What if Adam needs new glasses, or—or Joy needs more art supplies?” I could list all the things my siblings could need or want in a matter of seconds, but the look on my mom’s face stops me completely.

“
Allow your dad and me to help you this one time,” she says, taking the envelope from me and sticking it in my bag.

Smiling, I let my head fall softly on my mom’s shoulder. Her red hair tickles my nose. “Thank you.”

Her hand covers mine, squeezing tight. “We’re proud of you, and we’re going to trust you to make good decisions, and to be able to live with the consequences if you don’t.”

Wyatt comes through the door, balancing three boxes against his chest. “Do you want these in your bedroom?”

“
Yes.” Those boxes, my suitcase, and my roller derby bag, are my entire life—at least materially. Emotionally, however, is another story.

I’m afraid, that once my family boards a plane, I’ll look to Wyatt to fill the void. I’ll look to him, like I always have, to be the one constant in my life. To be strong when I’m weak. To be happy when I’m sad. To be normal when I’m a freak.

As he walks down the hall, disappearing around the corner, my shoulders sag, and I sit up.

How I am ever going to keep the full extent of how bad I can get from him? It was awful enough he had to…
deal
with me when my parents moved us across town. It was awful enough that what happened drove home the point… I clench my jaw.

There’s no use of thinking of that time. No use at all.

“
I better get back. Nine on one doesn’t seem like fair odds for your dad,” my mom jokes as she rises to her feet.