near his feet, smiling, until Maggie parked the car, then she barreled over, eyes wide and tongue lolling, and collapsed at Maggie’s feet as she got out of the Jeep.
Stoopid flailed over from near the chicken yard, apprised Maggie of the fact that Wyatt was present, then ran back from whence he’d come, neck feathers at half-mast.
Wyatt sat on the third step, a six pack of Yuengling on the step beside him. He was drinking one of them. He stood up as Maggie walked toward the house with Coco on her heels.
“Hey,” Maggie said.
“Hey,” he said back.
They looked at each other a moment, then he picked up the six-pack and stepped aside as she came up the stairs. She stopped a couple of steps up from him, looked him eye to eye. He looked tired and closed off from her, and she was surprised that she could feel that in a physical way.
“I just need to take a quick shower, okay? Five minutes?” she asked.
He nodded at her. “You want a beer?”
“No, thanks,” she said, as they started up the stairs again. “I don’t actually like beer. I just drink it if there’s nothing else.”
“You need to fix these stairs,” Wyatt said behind her.
“I know.”
She opened the front door and stood aside for Wyatt.
“I’ll just sit on the deck,” he said.
Maggie faltered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll be right out.”
Coco followed her inside, and Maggie quickly got out of her sticky clothes and into the shower. She tended to linger in the shower until the hot water was gone, but this time she was out in less than five minutes. She’d spent the entire time dreading the upcoming conversation and trying to come up with justifications for her actions, but she wasn’t so far gone that she could find any.
She threw on some khaki shorts and a white tee shirt, poured a glass of Muscadine wine, and walked out to the living room. Coco was sitting at the sliding glass door, vibrating at Wyatt, who was sitting at the small round table outside.
He looked up when she walked out onto the deck, and she had an urge to curl up on his lap. She remembered what that had felt like. It had felt safe, and it had felt right.
Instead, she sat down in the chair across from him. Coco sat in the middle, but it was Wyatt she was smiling at. Wyatt wasn’t smiling. Maggie was glad she got a good swallow of wine before he spoke.
“Did I ever tell you about when Lily told me she had cancer?”
That threw Maggie. “No.”
He sighed. “It was three weeks after she decided to have a lumpectomy instead of a mastectomy,” he said. “She told me two days before she went in for the surgery.”
Maggie had no idea what to say to that. He looked up at her. “I realize it was her body and it was her cancer, but it was our lives, and I had no idea. No idea at all, until it was too late for me to have any say in it.”
“I’m not sure what to say,” Maggie said. “I’m sorry.”
Wyatt took a long pull of his beer, then banged the bottle down on the table, making both Maggie and Coco jump just a little.
“I don’t want you to be sorry,” he said. “I want you to trust me enough to be honest.”
“I get what you’re—” she started.
“No, you probably don’t,” he said. He stood up and took a couple of paces, then stood with his hands on his hips. “I understand why you didn’t tell me about the rape, and I understand why you felt like you couldn’t tell me about Gregory Boudreaux. But Wilmette? And Boudreaux, freaking Boudreaux!”
“I told you because I do trust you, Wyatt!” Maggie said. “I know I waited too long, but I told you. I don’t want to have secrets.”
“But you do, Maggie.” Wyatt glanced at Coco, who had stopped smiling and was looking confused. He lowered his voice when he spoke again. “You do. Because I don’t know what the hell is going on with you and Boudreaux.”
“I don’t either, but it’s not—it’s not a romantic thing, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she
Stoopid flailed over from near the chicken yard, apprised Maggie of the fact that Wyatt was present, then ran back from whence he’d come, neck feathers at half-mast.
Wyatt sat on the third step, a six pack of Yuengling on the step beside him. He was drinking one of them. He stood up as Maggie walked toward the house with Coco on her heels.
“Hey,” Maggie said.
“Hey,” he said back.
They looked at each other a moment, then he picked up the six-pack and stepped aside as she came up the stairs. She stopped a couple of steps up from him, looked him eye to eye. He looked tired and closed off from her, and she was surprised that she could feel that in a physical way.
“I just need to take a quick shower, okay? Five minutes?” she asked.
He nodded at her. “You want a beer?”
“No, thanks,” she said, as they started up the stairs again. “I don’t actually like beer. I just drink it if there’s nothing else.”
“You need to fix these stairs,” Wyatt said behind her.
“I know.”
She opened the front door and stood aside for Wyatt.
“I’ll just sit on the deck,” he said.
Maggie faltered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll be right out.”
Coco followed her inside, and Maggie quickly got out of her sticky clothes and into the shower. She tended to linger in the shower until the hot water was gone, but this time she was out in less than five minutes. She’d spent the entire time dreading the upcoming conversation and trying to come up with justifications for her actions, but she wasn’t so far gone that she could find any.
She threw on some khaki shorts and a white tee shirt, poured a glass of Muscadine wine, and walked out to the living room. Coco was sitting at the sliding glass door, vibrating at Wyatt, who was sitting at the small round table outside.
He looked up when she walked out onto the deck, and she had an urge to curl up on his lap. She remembered what that had felt like. It had felt safe, and it had felt right.
Instead, she sat down in the chair across from him. Coco sat in the middle, but it was Wyatt she was smiling at. Wyatt wasn’t smiling. Maggie was glad she got a good swallow of wine before he spoke.
“Did I ever tell you about when Lily told me she had cancer?”
That threw Maggie. “No.”
He sighed. “It was three weeks after she decided to have a lumpectomy instead of a mastectomy,” he said. “She told me two days before she went in for the surgery.”
Maggie had no idea what to say to that. He looked up at her. “I realize it was her body and it was her cancer, but it was our lives, and I had no idea. No idea at all, until it was too late for me to have any say in it.”
“I’m not sure what to say,” Maggie said. “I’m sorry.”
Wyatt took a long pull of his beer, then banged the bottle down on the table, making both Maggie and Coco jump just a little.
“I don’t want you to be sorry,” he said. “I want you to trust me enough to be honest.”
“I get what you’re—” she started.
“No, you probably don’t,” he said. He stood up and took a couple of paces, then stood with his hands on his hips. “I understand why you didn’t tell me about the rape, and I understand why you felt like you couldn’t tell me about Gregory Boudreaux. But Wilmette? And Boudreaux, freaking Boudreaux!”
“I told you because I do trust you, Wyatt!” Maggie said. “I know I waited too long, but I told you. I don’t want to have secrets.”
“But you do, Maggie.” Wyatt glanced at Coco, who had stopped smiling and was looking confused. He lowered his voice when he spoke again. “You do. Because I don’t know what the hell is going on with you and Boudreaux.”
“I don’t either, but it’s not—it’s not a romantic thing, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she
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