Blaise Evans hasn't been back to Adair, Kentucky in eleven years, but finds herself in her rural Kentucky hometown after a series of tragic circumstances and unforeseen surprises. At only nineteen years old, she is doing her best to balance family...
I grab a couple of towels from the dryer and leave James in the house's only full bathroom to clean up while I wash off in the kitchen sink. I move as quickly as possible, not even worrying about the mess I'm leaving behind. I'll deal with that later; my first priority is making it next door to talk to Jodi before she has a chance to talk to Wyatt. Based on the look on her face, I have a feeling she misinterpreted mine and James' interaction. I change clothes and slip my shoes on, but before I even make it out the door, my phone rings. I groan when I see Wyatt's name on the screen.
"Hey babe!" I'm overcompensating. My voice is too cheerful, too fake.
"I just got a call from mom," he growls, "What the hell is going on over there?" I expected his questions and concerns, but I didn't expect his open hostility. I take a deep, calming breath before responding.
"Exactly what I told you was going on today. I'm working on the house."
"I must have missed the part where you told me you were going to mud wrestle half-naked in your front yard with some random dude."
"We weren't mud wrestling. We weren't half naked. And he isn't some random dude. All of which you would know if you asked me instead of jumping to conclusions."
"There shouldn't be anything to ask about. There is no excuse for your behavior. Jesus. After everything I've done for you?" The tone and volume of his voice continue to escalate.
"You know what? Whatever. You're just going to assume the worst, so why bother." Sometimes I wish cell phones weren't a thing. I'd love to feel the satisfaction of slamming a receiver down right now. Instead, I end the call with all the aggression my little thumb can muster without damaging my touch screen.
My phone rings from my pocket, but I ignore it and set it on silent. It immediately vibrates, and I intentionally send it to voicemail. It vibrates again, three short bursts notifying me of an incoming text message.
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I have no idea where he's patrolling today; If it's on the south side of the county he could be here in as little as fifteen minutes. The shower is still running. James is still naked in my bathroom, and that's the last thing I need Wyatt to walk in on right now. I reluctantly call him back.
"So now you want to talk." He grumbles, his tone is cold.
"I don't want to fight." I sigh.
"Then maybe have a little self-respect and don't embarrass me. What are people supposed to think, seeing you act like that?" His tone is softer, but his words still sting.
"I don't care what they think. I care what you think. That you trust me. And you clearly don't."
"I do trust you. But my own mother called to tell me what she saw with her own eyes. I trust her, too. And when she says my girlfriend is acting like a little slut, I have concerns." He's not shouting at me anymore, but I can hear the anger in his voice, as if he's speaking through clenched teeth.
