Page 54 of Truth and Temptation
“Language, please.” My mom’s reprimand is a gentle one, but clear.
“Wyatt, we’ve been in talks with your uncle for years about taking Crawford Books public. We knew you would never want to take over as CEO, so keeping it in the family didn’t make sense. Why didn’t you tell us how unhappy you were sooner?” Dad’s gruff voice comes from behind me, and disengaging from Mom, I turn around to face him. There’s no sense in hiding from my guilt and shame anymore, I have nothing left to lose.
“Ryder died alone because he and I fought over what I should do after he died. He…he wanted me to promise I would do something that we had talked about, but I refused. I didn’t want to do it without him.”
“Is that the outdoor tour company?” Mom asks quietly, and I turn to her in surprise.
“How did you know?”
She smiles softly. “Mila. She demanded to know why you had lied about why you were in Dogwood Cove. Apparently you told them you were there to research opening an adventure tourism outfit.”
“Sounds perfect for you, son, you always were happier outside.”
I drop my head and stare at the floor. “Yeah. Ryder and I were going to convince you to open an office branch of Crawford Books on the island, so we could just buy out a building as an investment. He’d have an office upstairs, and on the main floor would be WR Tours. He never wanted to be more than a silent partner, but we always said we’d do it together. I knew he was dying and I didn’t think…I couldn’t…I didn’t want to do it without him.”
Fucking hell. I’m crying in front of my parents. I haven’t done that since Ryder’s funeral. I saw how grief-stricken they were that day, and I vowed not to make it worse by showing them my own pain. But I can’t help it.
“Oh, honey. All your brother wanted, all we want, is for you to be happy. To live your life. Not try to live his.”
Mom’s words are so similar to Jacob’s, they hammer the message home even harder.
“I know, Mom. I’m starting to understand that,” I say quietly. “And I want you to know, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here for you when you needed me. His anniversary was so fuc-damn hard for me, I lost sight of how hard it must have been for you. I lost a brother, you lost a son. Hell, you sort of lost two sons with how much of an asshole I’ve been about everything.” I drag my eyes up to my mom’s face and see tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry. To both of you. I hope you can forgive me for being so selfish.”
“Of course we can, Wyatt. We were all just trying to get through and make sense of things the best way we could. Your need for space each year was no less important than our desire to be around you. We love you, no matter what.”
I fold Mom into my arms for another hug, this time letting the cathartic release of guilt and grief happen.
Eventually, we part, and we all sit there for a moment, until my Dad breaks the silence.
“Where does Paige fall into all of this?” he asks, innocently enough, not realizing how hard that is to answer.
“Nowhere, not anymore.” Those two words are perhaps the most painful ones of the entire conversation.
“Well, that’s a damn shame, son. She seemed like a wonderful woman.”
“She was. Is. She’s amazing.”
“Then why aren’t you with her?”
I don’t answer. Because I know that when I do, my parents will tell me to stop being an idiot. And they’d be right. But the fear of losing her is so strong.
“She told us about her asthma. How you left when she was in the hospital. We’ll get to how disappointed I am that you would abandon the woman you care about in her time of need later, but right now, we need to talk about fear.”
Mom is using that voice. The one Ryder and I used to call her Mama Bear voice. It meant business, as in, shape up boys or you’re in trouble. Memories of the two of us hustling to try and avoid trouble come to me unbidden, and my lips tip up slightly.
“What exactly are you afraid of, Wyatt?”
I answer honestly. There’s no other option. “Losing her.”
“Well good for you, you made your fear a reality. How does it feel?”
“Fucking awful.”
“Language.” Mom slaps my leg gently.
“Sorry, Mom, but it’s true. It feels horrible. As if I left part of my soul in Dogwood Cove and I’ll never get it back,” I answer hoarsely.
“Love is a risk. There’s always a chance of heartbreak and pain and loss. But think of it this way. Would you have been happier if Ryder had never lived? If you never had a twin brother? That way you would have never lost him — would that be preferable?”
