He was a class-A asshole.
He knew it, Stetson knew it, hell, Declan probably knew it and was just too nice to say so.
And now Abby knew it.
Oh, she probably had her inklings, considering the fact that he’d once punched her father and laid him out flat on the ground, and because he’d spent seven weeks in her close company because of charges of assault and battery.
But somehow, she’d overlooked all of that. Somehow, she hadn’t seemed to notice, or at least hold it against him.
But not now. There was no way that she missed this fact now.
It’d been three days since her announcement. Three days of hell. Only one day of working with the kids out at Adam’s place, and all anyone seemed to want to know was where was Abby? The little brown-haired girl who always clung to Abby like her shadow had been especially insistent.
“She promised she was going to come again!” she’d said, her mouth full of metal making it hard for her to speak clearly. But what she wanted to say wasn’t lost on Wyatt. She was a force of nature, and her wishes were crystal clear.
“I’m not sure where she’s at,” Wyatt had said lamely. Abby’d actually never planned on coming that day; it interfered with her work schedule. But he couldn’t tell the little girl that and lead her on, making her believe that Abby would for sure be there the next time. He rather doubted it, actually…
“Did you make her sad?” the little girl had demanded, crossing her arms and glaring at Wyatt.
Dammit. Even small children seemed to know that he’d screwed this up.
But on the other hand, he’d told Abby how much he wanted kids, way back during Christmas. She’d known all this time what children meant to him. She’d had a whole month to tell him, and hadn’t. The people around him were always betraying him; he couldn’t rely on anyone to tell him the truth when it didn’t suit their needs.
Shit. That wasn’t true, and he knew it. At least not when it came to Abby.
His head thunked forward against the tractor seat. He was out in the shop, ostensibly doing a tuneup on this old workhorse, but he’d spent the last…he didn’t know how long, actually, just staring off into space.
With a grunt, he left the shop and headed over to the barn. He was going to spend time with Elvis. At least he still liked Wyatt. Maggie Mae pushed herself up onto her feet and trotted alongside him as he went.
“When was she supposed to tell me?” he asked Maggie, who gave him a mournful yip in return.
That’s what was getting stuck in his craw. He wanted to just hate her because she hadn’t told him the truth from the beginning, but what beginning, exactly, was that? When he was first thrown in jail? Was she just supposed to tell every inmate who came through, on the off-chance that they fell in love during their stay?
He entered the warmish barn, the heater on low to keep the cold at bay. Flakes were swirling again; another winter storm was going to hit. Even for Long Valley, this had been a hell of a winter.
Elvis nickered when he saw Wyatt, his ears pricking up. Maggie Mae headed straight to her blanket in the corner so she could get back to her interrupted nap. She flopped down with a disgruntled sigh.
Wyatt ignored the pain Maggie obviously felt she’d just been put through, and instead grabbed a metal scoop and opened up the mice-proof bin of oats to dish some out. He dumped it into the feeding bucket and carried it over to Elvis, who began hoovering it down like he hadn’t seen food in the last ten years. Which was always how he ate oats; that and carrots. Wyatt long ago stopped worrying that he was mistakenly starving his horse. The big glutton just loved to eat.
“I treated her like shit,” he said, stroking his hand down Elvis’ neck as he continued to lip around the bottom of the bucket, attempting to suck up the last bits of grain. “I couldn’t figure out why she’d run away that day when we’d kissed, and now I know.
“You could say that she should’ve told me then, but…” He paused, staring at the far wall of the barn, seeing nothing. “That’s the kind of private information that you just don’t go around telling every soul in sight, and it probably took her time to build up her courage to talk to me.”
Just like it’d taken him time – three days, to be exact – to be able to see the situation clearly. She’d gathered up her courage, told him the truth, and he’d promptly acted like the bastard he was. He was never going to win a personality contest, but even for him, his behavior that day had been inexcusable.
Elvis, the oats officially gone, began nibbling on Wyatt’s jacket instead. Wyatt pushed him away with a small laugh. “I better go ride you before you start eating your stall door.” Elvis just nickered again, obviously trying to prove his innocence of such charges.
Wyatt didn’t believe him, not one bit.
He saddled him up and they headed outside into the cold, blowing snow, Maggie Mae fast on their heels. This would be good for all of them; Maggie needed to get outside and stretch her legs too. He looked down and saw her loping alongside him, tongue lolling out, happy as a clam.
He steered Elvis towards the trees that ran along his fence line that separated him from Mr. Krein, his nearest neighbor. He’d follow the frozen creek along. It was beautiful, winter or summer, and the view always soothed him.
As they trotted along, Wyatt turned the thought over and over in his mind. It was pretty clear to all involved, even him, that he needed to beg Abby’s forgiveness for his behavior the other day. She’d never been anything but thoughtful and sweet to him, and didn’t deserve what he said, not one bit.
But that didn’t solve the other, looming question: Could he fall in love with someone who couldn’t give him what he wanted most in the world? He wanted kids. He wanted someone to have his smile and his wife’s temperament (because God only knows, this world couldn’t handle two Wyatts in it). He wanted someone to teach how to catch a baseball, and dance with on her wedding day, and show just how to make the perfect weld, and how to curry a horse just right.
He wanted to make a difference in a kid’s life, girl or boy, he didn’t care. He wanted someone to call him Dad.
His throat felt tight with unshed tears. He hadn’t cried since the night Shelly and Sierra died. Not at the funeral, not a day since.
But the idea of losing the ability to have kids…that was a hell of a price to pay to love someone. Could he love Abby enough to forgive her? Not her, but the situation? It wasn’t fair to her to be in love with someone who would always resent her for keeping the one thing he wanted away from him.
Love…
Had he meant to use that word? He thought back to the last couple of months. Even in the depths of inmate hell, the one shining moment had been Abby. When she’d walk by and they’d trade joking insults or just brief comments. It was what had kept him sane while being locked in a 6 x 9 jail cell. Unlike so many others in the community, she hadn’t judged him and found him wanting.
And then, they’d kissed. And his whole world shifted on its axis and he wasn’t sure what he wanted or who he was anymore.
His eyes stung from the cold winter air; nothing more than that. He dashed at them with the back of his hand.
He had a choice to make, and in deference to Abby and her feelings, he needed to make it soon. Before he’d screwed everything up, they’d made plans for him to pick her up tomorrow and take her out to Adam’s. He had no idea if she still wanted him to, or if he wanted to.
He better start making decisions.
He wiped at his eyes again.
Damn winter air.