A Lover's Lament Read online

  “You don’t have to thank me.” Lifting the hat from his head, Wyatt runs his fingers through his hair before readjusting the Stetson. I always loved it when Wyatt wore his cowboy hat. It made me think of my Daddy. “She called and said she didn’t know who else to call.” Wyatt props a hip against the wall and cocks his head to the side. “Why didn’t she just call you?”

  Great. Not exactly the conversation I want to have. Turning toward the kitchen, I wave for Wyatt to follow me so we don’t disturb Bailey. “Well,” I say, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, “we aren’t exactly on speaking terms.”

  “Why’s that?” His southern drawl has always grown thicker when he’s concerned, and it’s more than prominent now.

  “She got mad when she found out that you and I broke up.” Looking down, I fidget with the cap to my bottle, unsure as to why I suddenly find it hard to look Wyatt in the eye. I sure as hell was able to look him in the eye when I broke his heart.

  “We didn’t break up.”

  My head snaps up. “Uh, yeah we did.”

  “No.” Wyatt takes a step toward me. My entire body freezes. “You broke up with me. To say that we broke up is a complete lie, because if I remember correctly, I didn’t really have a choice in the matter.”

  “No, I guess you didn’t.” Glancing down, I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Wyatt.” For the first time since it happened, guilt over breaking up with him slices through me. Not because I regret ending things with him—because I don’t—but because I feel bad for hurting him. And I’m not going to lie, having him here in my house again is familiar and comforting, and I’m finding it mildly unsettling.

  I jump at the feel of Wyatt’s warm hand on my face, but I don’t look up. This is all so confusing. I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze, but when he hooks his thumb under my chin, tilting my head up, I don’t have much of a choice. His eyes are intense, swimming with emotion, and I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  Please don’t do this.

  “I don’t want you to apologize, Katie.” He swallows hard. “What I want is for you to give me another chance.”

  “Wyatt,” I say, groaning. Furrowing my brows, I shake my head. “Please—”

  “Just hear me out,” he says, holding up a hand. “I get it. I get why you broke things off. You’ve gone through so much lately, and I—I wasn’t there for you like I should’ve been. And I can’t tell you how sorry I am for that, but I can show you. Let me show you.”

  “Wyatt.” I stare at him for a few seconds, hating that he’s putting me in this position. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “Let me change your mind,” he pleads. “We were great together, Katie, and yes, somewhere along the way we drifted apart. But I know that we can find our way back to each other. I just need you to give me a chance.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Dinner,” he blurts. “Just have dinner with me. Let’s talk. That’s all I ask.”

  “I don’t know, Wyatt.” My stomach rolls with uncertainty, but turning him down on the phone was much easier than telling him ‘no’ in person.

  “Think about it.” Slowly, he backs away from me with a hopeful smile on his face. “Just think about it.”

  “Okay,” I concede. “I’ll think about it.”

  He doesn’t say another word. Turning around, he walks out of the house, shutting the door quietly behind him.

  Completely defeated, I drop into a seat at the kitchen table. Telling Wyatt that I’d think about having dinner with him was a huge mistake, because I know deep down that no matter how familiar it felt to be around him again, I made the right choice. And no dinner is going to change that.

  My phone vibrates in my pocket and I groan. “Come on, Wy.” Scooping my phone out of my pocket, I’m prepared to see Wyatt’s number—yet again—but the number is completely foreign to me. Who the hell is this? It’s probably some damn telemarketer, and usually I’d just send them to voicemail, but for some unknown reason I decide to answer.

  “Hello.”

  “Katie?”

  I’d know that voice anywhere. A tiny wave of electricity buzzes through my body, sending a shiver down my spine. No way. The sinking feeling in my stomach from before is now a swarm of butterflies that decide to take flight all at once. I push up from the table, knocking the chair over in the process. “Devin?” My voice comes out way too breathy, but I don’t have time to care because I’m too busy being shocked, and excited, and hopeful …

  “Hi.” His rich, gravelly voice floats through the line, soaks into my skin and wraps itself around my heart. I’ve wanted to talk to him—to hear his voice saying the words that he’s written—but I didn’t realize I needed it until now.

  I can’t believe he called.

  He’s on the line, no doubt waiting for me to talk, but I’m utterly speechless. The only thing I can think of is that now that I’ve heard his voice again, reading his words won’t be enough. I’ll crave this … this connection. It’ll be my new weakness, my new drug of choice.

  “Is this a bad time?” I can practically see him frowning through the line.

  “No!” I take a deep breath to try and calm my nerves. “No, it’s perfect. You just caught me off-guard. I didn’t expect to hear from you, and now here you are on the phone and it’s so different, you know?” I cringe, loathing the way I’m rambling but completely unable to stop it. “Hearing your voice, it’s just … it’s … it’s too much … it’s been so long …”

  Devin chuckles and goose bumps scatter up my arms. He’s laughing at me, and I don’t even care because the sound of his laugh is like a heating blanket, warming me from the outside in.

  “Katie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You were engaged to Wyatt.” Okay, I wasn’t exactly expecting him to say that. He obviously got my email.

  “Were. Past tense.”

  “I’ve never been so fucking relieved to read something in my life.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You have no idea,” he says. “And Katie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Email or phone?” he asks.

  “Is this a trick question?” A slow grin spreads across my face.

  “You’re supposed to just answer,” he says, laughing. “You aren’t supposed to answer a question with another question. Now answer the question, Katie.” His commanding tone causes shivers to run down my spine. I forgot how alpha he could be.

  “Phone.” I didn’t have to think twice. Our words may have reconnected us, but hearing his voice only confirms the one thing I’ve suspected all along: what we had never went away.

  “Good answer.”

  My cheeks are hurting—seriously, they’re cramping up—and if I don’t stop smiling soon, I’m afraid I’ll have this goofy-as-hell grin for the rest of my life. But it feels good … really good. “What would you have done if I said email?”

  “I would’ve hung up and emailed you.” He chuckles. “You’ve never been one to ramble, so is it because you’re nervous … or is it just me?”

  My racing heart kicks up a few extra notches because it’s totally him. I’m tempted to tell him that I do ramble and he just doesn’t remember correctly, because telling Devin that it’s him is the equivalent of slicing my chest open and laying my heart on the line—and quite frankly, my heart has been through enough lately. But as tempting as it is, I know that I have to tell him the truth. We’ve come too far and built too much in such a short amount of time, and whatever this is, I don’t want to jeopardize it … or lose it.

  “It’s you.” Leaning forward, I prop my hands on the counter. Holy shit, that was terrifying.

  Devin blows out a slow breath but doesn’t respond. Oh shit. My stomach tightens as I try to come up with a way to dig myself out of this. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

  “I like your answer.”

  “You do?” That knot in my stomach unravels, taking with it the urge to throw up.


  “More than I probably should,” he says with a sigh. The line crackles, going completely silent for a few beats, and I’m worried that the call was somehow dropped when I hear him clear his voice. “I have a confession to make.”

  “Okay …” My nerves are running at high speed, so I grab a pot from beneath the sink. Maybe if I keep myself busy, I’ll be more relaxed.

  “Shit,” he says, laughing. “I really don’t want you to think I’m some sort of stalker …”

  “Spit it out, Sergeant,” I quip.

  “I stalked your MySpace page,” he breathes, quickly rushing to explain. “My friend Navas, that fucker, had me convinced that I needed to see you again, to see what you’ve been up to. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to know what you looked like after all these years, but … are you laughing at me?”

  “S-sorry.” I gasp to catch my breath. “I’m laughing because—” My abs constrict, tears of happiness—and quite possibly relief—running down my face. I suck in a breath. “I totally stalked you too.”

  “You did?” He sounds surprised, which makes me laugh harder.

  “Yes, I had to. Maggie made me!” Filling the pot up with water, I place it on the stove, setting the temperature to high.

  “She made you?” he teases. “How did she make you?”

  “She’s evil, Devin. She’s a little devil, and she’s enamored with you and your chiseled abs.”

  “I think Maggie and I are going to be great friends.”

  “I’ll tell her you said that.” Wiping the wetness from my face, I pull the angel hair pasta from the cupboard.

  “And you … were you enamored with my chiseled abs?” I smile, picturing Devin with a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Nah. Your abs could use some work, if you ask me,” I joke.

  Devin’s laugh is deep and throaty, and it does things to me that a laugh should never be able to do to someone. It’s quickly becoming my favorite sound. “I’ll have to remember to do an extra set of sit-ups tomorrow.”

  “Your smile.”

  “Huh?”

  “It was your smile that got to me.” Without permission, my mouth continues to spew exactly what’s running through my head. “I miss seeing the way it lit up your face. And that dimple in your left cheek … I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s just as sexy now as it was then.”

  He sucks in a sharp breath at my confession. Then the line goes quiet, and I can’t help but think that I’m crazy for opening my mouth and saying those things. What the hell was I thinking?

  “How are you, Katie?” Devin’s voice is infused with so much emotion. I take a deep breath, thankful that we’re finally getting the chance to talk while simultaneously trying not to dwell on the fact that he didn’t mention what he thought about me. I know I don’t look the same. What if he doesn’t find me attractive anymore?

  “Good,” I answer honestly. I drop the pasta into the near boiling pot of water. “I’m good. I had a session with Dr. Perry tonight, and I told her that I think I’m ready to read Andrew Drexler’s letter.”

  “Wow,” he breathes. “That’s a huge step. But you’re strong, and if anyone can do it, I know you can. I’m so proud of you.”

  Hearing him tell me that he’s proud of me gives me an enormous amount of confidence, but it also makes me nervous. “I don’t know if I can forgive him.”

  Closing my eyes, I conjure up a vision of my dad. He’s smiling, his round cheeks red from laughter, and I wonder what he would want me to do. “He’d want me to forgive him,” I murmur, quickly repeating those words as they sink in. “Daddy would want me to forgive him.”

  “One step at a time, that’s all you can do. Read the letter first, listen to what he has to say and then go from there. You don’t have to forgive him right away—or at all, for that matter—but at least you’re taking that step. Just remember you’re taking that step for you, and no one else.”

  “Wait a minute … is this Dr. Perry?” I quip. “No really, what did you do with her?”

  “Ha ha.”

  The faint sound of water sizzling catches my attention, so I open my eyes and whip around. “Shit.” Quickly, I turn the temperature of the stovetop down and blow across the top of the steaming water until it stops boiling over.

  “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

  “No, I’m fine. Just a little cooking mishap. And in case you’re wondering, no, I’m not a better cook now than I was before you left.”

  “Duly noted.” Devin yawns through the line and I look at my watch. Six forty-five. I wonder what time it is where he’s at. “What are you cooking?”

  “Do you really want me to tell you?” I ask. “Is it going to make you dream of food?”

  “Tell me, woman. Let me live vicariously through you.”

  “Okay,” I drawl. “Wait for it … wait for it … spaghetti!”

  “Mmmm.” Devin moans, deep and long. The vibration in his voice slams into me like a tidal wave. Desire pools low in my belly, and a vision of the two of us naked and writhing in bed flashes through my head.

  “That’s sounds so good,” he says.

  “It—” My voice squeaks and I clear my throat, thankful when the words come out right the second time around. “It is. It’s become my specialty.”

  “Oh yeah? What’s your secret?”

  “Well, if I told ya, I’d have to kill ya.”

  “Wow, now I’m dying to know.”

  “Fine, fine, twist my arm, why don’t you? It’s chicken.”

  “What?” He chuckles. “Chicken?”

  “Yeah. I put chicken in the spaghetti rather than beef. It’s amazing! I’ll make it for you some time.”

  “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

  I hope you do, soldier. “It’ll be great. We can have a spaghetti picnic under the stars. If you’re good, I’ll even pack Cool Ranch chips and Mountain Dew.”

  “You remembered,” he mumbles as though lost in thought. I nod my head, but by the time I remember I’m on the phone and he can’t actually see me, he starts talking again. “And on this picnic, will you serenade me with Backstreet Boys too?”

  We both fall into a fit of laughter as we argue the age-old question of who is better—or worse, as Devin likes to say—Backstreet Boys or NSYNC. Then I go on to tell him about Bailey, why she’s upset with me, and how she ended up here tonight—leaving out the fact that Wyatt brought her. He doesn’t need to know everything.

  Devin tells me some funny stories about his friend Navas, and I can tell by the way he talks about him that Navas is a good person. I’m glad that Devin has someone like that in his life—someone he can trust and talk to that’s there with him, day in and day out. If I’m being honest, I’m a little jealous that I’ve been replaced, and then I wonder if that’s how Devin feels when I go on and on about Maggie.

  Devin is yawning nearly every other word, and when I glance at the clock in my kitchen, I notice that we’ve been on the phone for nearly an hour. “You sound exhausted. What time is it there?”

  “Ummm …” The phone buzzes and crackles a few more times. “Almost two-fifteen.”

  “In the morning? Oh my gosh, Devin, why didn’t you tell me I was keeping you up?”

  “Because I wanted to talk you, Katie.” My shoulders relax, but I still feel bad. He probably has to get up at the asscrack of dawn. “And trust me, I don’t sleep much anyway.”

  “We’re going to discuss that the next time we talk,” I say, causing him to chortle. “But I’m letting you go because you need to get some sleep.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  Neither of us says a word or makes the first move to hang up. I’m instantly transported into the ‘you hang up, no, you hang up’ antics we used to play as children, before his mom disconnected their phone. “I’ll try and call you again soon,” he says.

  “You better.”

  “Katie?”

  “Yeah?” Walking into the living room, I curl up in the recli
ner and lean my head back, closing my eyes.

  “This was—”

  “Great,” I interrupt. “It was great.” He mumbles in agreement, and suddenly I feel the need to ask him about us. I need to know if he feels this connection or if it’s just in my head, because I can feel myself starting to fall again. And wouldn’t it be a bitch if there was no one there to catch me?

  “Devin?”

  “Yeah?”

  “This friendship … it’s, um … I mean, I feel like …” I bite my lip, frustrated that I can’t seem to put into words everything that I’m thinking and feeling. Taking a deep breath, I reach down deep, grasping whatever courage I can find. “Since your first letter to me, I’ve felt … I just …”

  “I feel it, Katie.”

  Everything around me blurs as tears fill my eyes. “You do? Because I feel it, and it’s powerful and overwhelming and I thought I had moved past it, and then all of a sudden, there it was again, and ... ”

  Devin sighs, a rush of air sounding through the phone. “God, Katie. I don’t know how to explain it, but you’re not alone. I feel the same way, only I knew that I never moved past it. Believe me, I tried because I thought it was best, but it’s always been there for me. Why do you think I was so quick to reply to your letter when I tossed all the other letters away?” My heart constricts. I had no idea he’d tossed other letters away ... he didn’t tell me that. “And yes, it’s powerful and overwhelming, but in a good way. Christ, what we had … I’d never felt anything like it before, and now, there just aren’t words for it.”

  I sniff, wiping my face with my arm. “I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear you say that. I didn’t know … I thought maybe it was just me. That maybe I was making it so much more than it was—”

  “It’s everything.” His voice grows thick with emotion. “Whatever this is between us … it’s big, Katie. Bigger than you, bigger than me … and ten years hasn’t changed that.”

  “So, what now?”

  “I don’t know.” If it’s at all possible, his voice seems lighter, as though a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. “But I think that I’m going to like figuring it out.”