Love Song(14)

I can’t spend the summer with him, Jules. And he was SUCH a dick yesterday. Snapping at me and acting all annoyed, like I purposely showed up here to ruin his plans.



JULIETTE

You need to stop giving this asshole so much power over you.



She’s right. I care way too much about what Wyatt Graham thinks of me.

But I’m no longer the pathetic teenager with stars in her eyes. I’m turning twenty-one soon. I’m an adult, a grown woman who doesn’t need to beg for a man’s attention. And if Wyatt wants to be a dick to me, I can be a dick right back. I’m not interested in impressing him anymore. Which is probably a good thing, because breaking down and crying in his arms last night isn’t the way to impress anyone.

But hey, at least I finally cried. Guess I’m not a robot after all.

JULIETTE

Oh btw I went to your building yesterday and grabbed that box like you asked. Isaac left it downstairs with the doorman.



I perk up. Finally! I’ve been messaging the cheater every week for the past month, bugging him to box up some items I’d forgotten at the condo.

Thank you. I love you so much.



Hot Boi’s finally back where he belongs!



JULIETTE

So. About that.



I have bad news.



Incoming.



A photo pops up, triggering an outraged gasp.

Oh my God. That asshole.

I’m already typing a new message, this one directed at Isaac, as I climb out of bed. I hit Send, then pad into the hallway on bare feet, my bad mood only getting worse. If I was in the blue room, I’d have an en suite, but thanks to Wyatt, I’m forced to use the hall bathroom.

Teeth brushed and bladder empty, I grab my phone and go downstairs, walking into the kitchen to the sound of a very pissed-off Wyatt. The french doors sit wide open, letting the cool morning breeze waft inside. Our house faces east, which means we wake up every morning to the Sierras catching the morning light. It’s gorgeous.

Wyatt is standing on the deck with his back to me. Shirtless.

God, why does he have to be shirtless?

With the sunlight slanting just the right way to catch the strong lines of his back, I can’t help but admire him. Fine, ogle him. Everything about Wyatt’s body, every fucking inch of him, is ogle-worthy. Wide shoulders, narrow waist. Defined muscles that ripple beneath his suntanned skin with every move he makes. He wanders closer to the railing, and his hair now catches the sun’s rays, making it appear more gold than brown.

The way he’s cut, you’d think he was an athlete like his father and not a tortured, chain-smoking musician. Gigi told me he quit smoking, but evidently not. A cigarette dangles from the corner of his mouth, lending him a dangerous air. And his hair is longer from the last time I saw him. It keeps falling onto his forehead, making my fingers itch to sweep it away.

I pass the long dining room table, which is covered with pieces from a newly started jigsaw puzzle. I don’t want to eavesdrop on Wyatt’s conversation, but I also don’t want to interrupt, so I make sure my footsteps are extra loud as I enter the kitchen to pour myself some coffee. Of course, he’s barely noticed me my whole life, so why would today be any different?

“Yeah, Dad, I heard you. I’m not a total prick, okay? I’ll—” Wyatt stops talking, turning toward the door and spotting me in the kitchen. “All right, Blake’s up. I gotta go. You know, make sure she’s fed and watered.”

My jaw drops. What the fuck?

He stubs out his cigarette in the ashtray, then comes sauntering into the house as if he hadn’t just spoken about me in the most dehumanizing way.

“Fed and watered?” I demand, throwing his words back at him.

He heads for the coffee maker. “Sorry, that was more for my dad’s benefit.”

“At my expense,” I growl. “I’m not a fucking pet, Wyatt.”

“And I’m not a fucking babysitter.”

“Good, because I don’t need one. I don’t care what your dad says—”

“It’s not just my dad,” he interrupts in annoyance. “It’s all of them.” He holds up his phone, waving it around. “They pulled me into Dad Chat against my will and warned me that if I don’t protect our precious Blake Logan with my life, then I, and I quote, ‘sacrifice’ my life.”

“They didn’t.” I narrow my eyes.

Without a word, Wyatt unlocks the phone and slides it across the counter. I lean in, skimming the last few messages in the chat.

Oh my fucking God. My father actually said that.

JOHN LOGAN

If you don’t protect her with your life, you sacrifice that life.



GARRETT GRAHAM

You realize you’re speaking to my only son, right?



DEAN DI LAURENTIS

Remember when Logan used to be normal?



JOHN TUCKER

You’ll still have your son-in-law, G. You can sacrifice one.



WYATT GRAHAM

You’re all insane. Please release me from this psych ward.



“Then after I left the group, my dad called me to hammer the point home,” Wyatt grumbles as he gets himself a cup of coffee. “I’m under strict orders to not leave your side this summer.”