He walked alongside me as we made our way to the truck, and to my surprise, he opened the passenger door for me. My body was humming with anticipation as he came around and slid behind the wheel. When he turned over the key, he snuck a glance at me before looking back at the windshield.
“I must have looked pretty rough before,” I teased.
Wyatt shook his head. “No. You were beautiful before too.” He pulled onto the road and headed down the mountain. “I just never told you.”
We rode in silence, my longing fighting with reason. I’d waited my whole life to feel something like this with a man. Why did he have to live in this godforsaken town?
I knew it didn’t matter, that we couldn’t have any sort of future together, what with our dual vendettas against our fathers—his need to face his, my need to flee mine. But I couldn’t stop myself from trying to learn more about him.
“How did you end up in prison, Wyatt?” I blurted out.
“As you already know,” he said without any sign of defensiveness, “I was charged with a DUI and breaking and entering.”
“But there were other charges at first. Robbery. I heard you broke into the garage you now own. Is any of that true?”
He dared to sneak a quick glance at me. “Yeah. I broke into the garage, but I didn’t steal anything that wasn’t rightfully mine. And I was driving while drunk. I deserved the conviction. I could have killed someone.”
“Is that why you wouldn’t allow your parents to hire an attorney?”
He snorted. “No, I’d already told my father I didn’t want anythin’ to do with him or his money, and that included hirin’ me an attorney.”
“What were you trying to get back that was yours?”
He was silent for a moment, as if considering how much he wanted to share. I started to think he was done talking when he said, “A baseball. My grandfather had given it to me when I was a kid.” He shot me a sideways grin. “It was signed by Joe DiMaggio. I loved that stupid thing.”
A baseball? It obviously had sentimental meaning if he’d gotten it from his grandfather. “How did it end up in the garage?”
“My maternal grandfather and my dad didn’t get along, but that old man loved me, which pissed my father off to no end. So when I told my father I wanted nothin’ to do with him, he sold the baseball to Earl Cartwright out of spite. I tried to buy it back, but Earl refused to part with it. One night I was pissed and drunk—never a good combination—and I decided to get it out of the display case in Earl’s garage.”
“So you got it back?” I asked.
He shook his head with a wry look. “No. The sheriff took it as evidence. It went missing. My father paid Earl enough to get him to drop the robbery charges, then paid my girlfriend to leave town.” He tilted his head toward me. “He thought she wasn’t good enough for me.”
“Was she?” I asked with a hint of a smile.
“This was one of those rare instances when he was right. Turns out she was more interested in the Drummond money than the Drummond’s eldest son.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I faced the same thing. Turns out most men were more interested in the fact that I was the Blakely Oil heiress than they were in me.”
“Including the guy you left at the altar?” he asked.
“Nooo…” I said, drawing it out the word. “I didn’t technically leave him at the altar. I left him the night before the wedding. And while I’m sure Jake was interested in my father’s oil money, he was much more drawn to my father’s illegal business ventures.”
His brow shot up. “Like corporate espionage?”
I released a short laugh. “It’s a hell of a lot worse than that. Think drugs and arms smuggling.”
“Shit,” he said, his shock evident. “Is that why he wants you back? Because you know too much?”
“No, although I’m sure he’s probably concerned about that too.”
He gave me a worried look. “So why does he want you?”
Did I risk telling him? Hadn’t I already risked enough? What was this admission compared to everything else?
Mistaking my hesitation, he said, “I’m not going to turn you in, Carly. I hope you know that by now.”
I turned to him in surprise. “That hadn’t even crossed my mind.”
He smiled, his face lighting up. “Progress.”
“Progress,” I admitted, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Admitting I was so dispensable to my father was humiliating. “How much do you want to know?”
“As much as you’re willing to share. I’ll guard your secrets, Carly. I swear.”
Call me a fool, but I believed him. “Okay. I’ll tell you everything.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“I think I need to start with my mother’s death,” I said, shifting my gaze to stare out the windshield. It hurt too much to look at him.
To my surprise, he reached across the seat and took my hand, twining our fingers together. “Take your time.”
His touch meant more than it should. Feeling like this was dangerous. Yet the warmth and strength of his hand gave me the courage to continue. “My mother was killed in a car accident when I was nine. Up until a year or so before she died, I thought my life was perfect. I knew we had money, but I didn’t truly understand it. I went to a private school where everyone had money.”
“I knew,” Wyatt said softly. “I knew right away. Max and I went to public school, and the contrast between what we had and what our friends had was startling.”
I hadn’t thought about that. “I suspect that was even harder, realizing everything you had while your friends struggled.”
He shrugged. “It is what it is. Go on.”
“I’m fairly certain my mother was happy. That’s how I remember it anyway. She and my father were trying to get pregnant. They kept talking about my future baby brother or sister. My father loved me. Doted on me. He couldn’t wait to have another baby. And then, suddenly, they started fighting. I was too young to truly understand what was happening, but now that I’m older, and after I heard my father talking to Jake…” I paused. “My father found out that I’m not his biological child. My mother had an affair.”
“How did he find out?” Wyatt asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. The logical guess is that they did fertility testing and my father found out he was sterile. It would explain why he never remarried and tried to have more kids. In any case, they both took it as gospel, so it must be true.”
“So what happened?”
“My mother was upset, and I didn’t understand what was going on. I only knew my father quit coming home most nights. Then my mother got in that accident, and I was left alone.” I shifted in my seat to look at him. “Only it turns out it wasn’t an accident. My father had her killed.”
He squeezed my hand. “God, Carly. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t respond. I didn’t see the point. “Hired help raised me until my father thought I was too old for a nanny. After that, I was alone in our mansion until I left for college, but through it all, I had Jake.”