Messy Love(4)

Next, his powerful thighs encased in shorts had me distracted, and I almost forgot the reason why I was here in front of this very house and how harsh this man had been looking at me. That was until he cleared his throat loudly enough to be considered rude.

I blinked a few times and glanced back at his face before looking away when my cheeks warmed uncomfortably. This day was such a mess.

“So?’’ he pushed on when I still didn’t answer his question.

I pointed over my shoulder in the direction of the house and willed my voice to come out. “Hmm, well, I’m visiting someone.’’

“Visiting, uh?’’ He shook his head, and his dark eyebrows lowered more, something I hadn’t thought possible seconds before. His voice, still hard, had an undeniable ‘don’t bullshit me, or I’ll fuck you up’ vibe I wasn’t necessarily familiar with. “Listen, I don’t know what you’re selling, but we’re not interested. Go back to your car.’’ He gestured to my small town car, beat up and with dirt from the drive from my parents’, parked behind him on the curb in front of the house.

But my mind was stuck on something.

He said ‘we.’

I raised a shaky hand to my still flushed cheek as pinpricks took over my whole face when I was sure the blood was leaving it at once. “Do you live here?’’

His stance hardened more, muscles bulging briefly in his arms as he crossed them tightly, making his soaked t-shirt stretch over his broad chest and shoulders. “Who are you?’’

I shook my head, unable to come up with something. It’s a simple question, and he’s entitled to it even though he was, without a doubt, an asshole. But I couldn’t answer it. Instead, standing in front of him, head tilted up to keep my eyes locked in his stormy ones, hands clutching my purse and car key as my mind was scattered at my feet, a single thought blared in my head.

He was Wyatt Burton. He’s my biological mother’s adopted son. He wasn’t a kid.

“Oh my God,’’ I muttered with a quiet voice as my eyes widened.

And then, I didn’t know how or if I imagined it, but his eyebrows shot up on his forehead for the time it took to blink before he was scowling at me all over again. I was sure in the deepest part of me that he knew who I was.

I jumped back, away from him as if he’s burnt me. I couldn’t do this. I fucking couldn’t do this. I made a move to walk away from the house and back to the safety of my car when…

“Wyatt? What’s going on?’’ a female voice asked softly from behind me. It came from the house.

It’s too late.

My biological mother was behind me while her adopted son was in front of me, glaring at me so hard it’s a wonder he hadn’t managed to kill me by his sheer anger pouring out of every cell of his ripped body.

Wyatt’s eyes glided over my body from head to toes before he scoffed and walked past me towards the house. “She’s not here for me.’’ I heard him say gruffly before his steps faded away.

But I couldn’t turn around.

I was rooted there in the middle of the path leading to the house. I couldn’t move to my car, but I couldn’t turn around and face the woman who had given birth to me either.

Tears welled up in my eyes at the turn of events. It’s ridiculous, I knew it, but I had pictured it going very differently. I had imagined myself knocking at the door for her to answer and we’d calmly start talking. I never thought I’d be faced with her asshole of an adopted son. I didn’t think he’d be so tall and… so old. He’s probably a few years older than me.

“Miss?’’

I gasped and tightened my grip on my purse and key until my knuckles ached. Slowly, I turned around, and I was surprised to see I was so close to the front door, close enough to understand how Wyatt realized who I was. It’s the eye color. This unique blue-violet color that matched hers perfectly.

She brought a hand to her mouth. Her eyes shone brighter as recognition hit her.

I’d seen a picture of her in the file, but it’s nothing like seeing a bad copy of her ID. Now, I could appreciate the fact that she’s the same height as I was, had the same almond-shaped eyes with that strange color. Her body was maybe a bit thicker than mine, and she had light brown hair instead of my straight dark strands, but it’s undeniable. We’re the same blood.

“You… Are you…?’’

I nodded and walked toward her, my steps hesitant as I waited for her rebuke, for her to close the door to my face. But she didn’t. Instead, she opened it wider.

“Yes.’’

“Oh my God,’’ she whispered, her eyes looking at my face with such intensity it’s like she’s taking in every little detail about me to commit them to memory.

I fidgeted and looked down at my feet, almost smiling when I saw the bunny slippers she had on.

“Come in. I…’’ she said shakily, and I looked up to find her smiling softly at me, eyes wet. “I’ve been waiting to meet you for a long time.’’

“Really?’’ I asked, and I was surprised to hear the hopeful note in my voice. Up until now, I wasn’t entirely aware of how much I wanted to meet her, talk to her. I had known it, but now it truly hit me squarely in the chest, rendering me weak and so vulnerable I was sure her rejection would have left me temporarily broken.