Impulsion (Station 32 #1)(67)

Garrison reached to mess up Wyatt’s sweaty hair, then walked away. His words were lost on Wyatt for a long while. At first he thought Garrison was threatening him, then he thought he was just trying to make him feel like a man, included in the position his parents had agreed to take on. But as he watched Harley ride, watched her try to keep to herself at the farm, he realized that maybe, just maybe Garrison really did want Harley to feel safe and knew Wyatt was the one that could make her feel that way.

You’re safe. Those two words started their relationship as friends, a friendship that turned into more within a few weeks’ time.

Harley had been thrown by Danny Boy, a hard throw, the kind that knocked the wind out of you, would take you days not to feel. He was the one that caught Danny Boy, led him right back to Harley—the one that helped her mount again. He held her stare, seeing the fear saturate her expression. “You’re safe. He feels everything. If you feel safe, so does he.”

Those words were enough to get Harley through that ride. They also caused her to come to him as he was putting away all the tack later that day. “How can you read him so easily?” Wyatt smiled a slow, sweet smile. It was the first time she had spoken to him first. He felt like he had won a world medal at that point. The conversation never stopped from then on, and it lingered on more than just horses. He did his best to understand her world then. Even as a boy, it all seemed like bullshit to him.

Say what you mean, mean what you say. That’s all he knew how to do.

When he told Harley that she would always look away, when he demanded to know what scared her, she said her father. She said from the moment she was able to understand age, she feared losing him. Wanted to do whatever she could to be what he needed her to be while he was still here.

Before he could tell her then just to ‘be,’ a crash of thunder shook the house.

“Told you, the weatherman is on my side,” he said, moving his hands around her, then lifting her. The water was turning cold, and the flesh on their hands had begun to shrivel.

He was going to make her some warm coffee and talk about how she could just ‘be,’ what had to happen for her never to leave Willowhaven Farms.

Right as she put the towel around her, she said, “Crap. My phone. It’s by the creek.”

“I’ll get it,” he said, stopping her from picking up that dress on the floor. It was stupid, but the thought of it covering her felt like a loss to him.

By the time he made it back to the house, climbed the stairs to ask her to come down, he found her in the center of his bed wearing one of his fireman T-shirts that seemed to swallow her. He sat the phone on the nightstand, pushed out of his jeans, then climbed in next to her.

Even though she was sound asleep, she pulled him closer, laid her head on his chest. They fit perfectly side by side, their legs and arms entangled. Even their breaths were in sync as they laid in the darkness.

Wyatt drifted to sleep listening to the approaching rain that was going to give them every excuse to stay right there in that house until he had no choice but to leave for the fire department.

He thought it was his alarm, the ringing sound that woke him. But it was Harley’s phone.

She had rolled over as he sat up, buried herself deeper into the covers.

Wyatt silenced the phone as fast as he could. Rage came to him as he saw Collin’s face on the screen.

He tried not to think about it as he got up and somewhat got dressed. He’d called his mother to tell her that he was staying in. She didn’t ask if Harley was with him, he didn’t expect her to; that wasn’t his mother’s style. No doubt she had figured it out, though, or at least assumed since it was well after nine, a time that everyone would have at least gathered to figure out the plan for that day.

When he heard that phone ring again, he rushed to the bedside, silenced it again. Harley never moved; it was like the rain washing down the windows was lulling her into an endless sleep.

Wyatt fought with his mind as he grabbed that phone and made his way down the stairs, then to his front porch. He wasn’t scared to talk to this man, to tell him that he wasn’t going anywhere, that they needed to make this as easy on Harley as possible.

He asked himself if he could handle the idea of Harley loving him, of hearing this guy say he loved her.

He asked himself if this would be some southern redneck move that would cause hell in Harley’s life. All those questions jerked back and forth. He never answered a single one, and before he knew it he had tapped the call back button.

It was ringing.

When he heard the carefree voice on the other end answer, he felt his skin boil. Cocky son of a bitch, he thought to himself.

“Me and you have a problem, son.”

“Son? Wyatt?”

“You know about me.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I know everything about you,” Collin said.

“I doubt that.”

“Is everything all right? Where’s Harley?”

“Me and you are talking right now.”

“Are we?”

“Yeah, we are. Listen to me. As far as I’m concerned, Harley was never yours. She’s always been mine. I may not have your name, or fit just right in that world Claire Tatum keeps trying to force my Harley into, but she has always been mine. They ripped her from my arms and found some stuffed suit monkey to stand next to her and smile.”