I stop myself from telling him. Telling Wyatt that I’m literally *thisclose* to moving back here.
“Stay here?” His voice sounds hopeful, or so I think. It could also be relief. Who knows.
“Yes. I mean no. Oh, I don’t know.” My hands fly to the top of my head, fingers twirling in my hair. I wanted to stuff my random thoughts back in if I could, but I can’t. “I’ve got too much going on. I can’t think straight, so I’m going.” I grab the basket and my things and start to walk away.
“Freya, I don’t want you to go.”
I turn and find Wyatt standing close to me, so close I swear I can see emotion swirling in his eyes. “It’s not about what you want right now. It’s about me, and I’m working at the cafe tomorrow for July Fourth. It’s going to be busy, so I’m going to go get some rest. You should, too, you also have a big day, and night, planned for tomorrow.”
Okay, that last part was petty, but I couldn’t stop it. It felt soooooo good to say.
I feel his eyes on me, still watching me as I start the trek back to my car. I’d managed to find a parking spot near the border of the park, and if I knew Wyatt, he would still be standing there keeping tabs on me, watching my every move as I walked to my car. He knows me well enough not to follow me, and for that I am thankful.
I don’t want him to see my tears of frustration that have finally escaped and are making their way down my cheeks right now.
CHAPTER 8
Wyatt
Was Freya going to tell me last night she was staying in town? I shake my head feeling bewildered—at least, I think that’s the right description of how I feel. I drop the large cardboard box I’m carrying to the ground.
“Good thing those aren’t fireworks,” the voice behind me jokes. I turn around and find Dylan, AKA Dyls, grinning at me, holding her own box stuffed full of decorations and other accessories needed for my master plan. “Where does this go?”
I nod, indicating the patch of grass on the slope next to the dock. “Drop it there if you don’t mind, then feel free to run if you want. I know you don’t have a lot of time to help me with this. I appreciate all you’ve done so far. You’ve been a huge help these past few days.”
“Oh, stop it.” Dylan straightens her baseball cap so the brim gives her shade from the midday sun. “I’ve got plenty of time to help you set up before I have to get to the garage.”
“Dub doesn’t have you working today, does he?”
“Nah.” She shakes her head from side to side as she kneels down next to the box and starts unpacking its contents. “Thegarage is closed for the rest of the week, but Dad likes to look over the accounting ledgers each week and I like to keep him happy. Seems like I’m good at that, or at least better than you are, huh?”
I wince as my friend mocks me. “Did you just make fun of how I’m handling things with Freya?”
“You bet I am.” She chuckles as she stands up and holds out a string of Christmas lights. “Will these work?”
“Sure will. Start draping them around the pilings on the dock if you don’t mind. I’m going to run an extension cord from the house later, so we’ll have plenty of power.”
“Roger that.”
How had I done this to myself? In my efforts to win over the girl of my dreams, I’d asked the wrong person for help. Not that Dylan is the wrong person; in fact, she's the absolute right person for this job today. She’s also an excellent firefighter, and being Dub’s daughter, she’s got a strong will and a wicked sense of humor.
And yes, I have been spending a lot of time with Dylan the last few days, but it’s because I need her assistance. Dylan is a woman and she’s got style, two character traits that elude me. I need feminine energy if I’m going to pull off this surprise for Freya.
“So she has no idea you’re doing any of this?” Dylan’s back faces me, but I hear the laughter in her voice. Fair enough.
“She has no idea. Not one bit. In fact, I think I'm in the doghouse right now because your dad let it slip that I’ve been hanging out with you the last few days.”
Dylan winces. “Ouch. So now she thinks we’re”—she points to herself and then back at me—"together?”
I nod, then shake my head. “It’s a yes and no situation. I told her there was nothing going on, then Dub happened. And she clammed up.” I didn’t add that I’d sent her a textmessage earlier that was still unanswered. A first in the history of Wyatt and Freya.
“Would it help if I said something, like explaining to her we went out and it only took two dates for us to realize we’re friends?”
“I told her all of this. But she’s wary. I’ve known her for a long time, and she’s dated some turds who’ve lied to her in the past. She’s got post-traumatic dating disorder or something.” I grab a string of lights and begin looping them on the last few pilings.
“I’ve seen you do some incredible things the last few months. You can carry your weight and then some, so based on that, I feel like you’d be great in a crisis situation—which this will escalate into if you don’t set the record straight.” She snaps her fingers at me and points to a giant trash bag stuffed with goods by my feet. “Now, pass me a few of those throw pillows in that bag.”
“Thanks for the encouragement. And yes, that was meant to be sarcastic.” I throw a couple of bright red and white pillows in her direction. “Who even has outdoor throw pillows?”
