17. Wyatt

Chapter Seventeen

WYATT

After more than a week, Gage's bruises had finally faded to a palette of ugly, swampy colors.He wasn't in much pain anymore, not more than some ibuprofen could fix, but there was still a certain caution to his movements.

He slept nearly all day while I was on shift, doing the important work of healing, but I clocked him growing bored and restless.It was clear in the twitchy way he drummed his fingers on his thighs during dinner, or the way he drifted off in the middle of a movie, looking a million miles away and none too happy about it.He’d always been a high energy kid, but aimless in a way his brothers weren’t.It bugged him, I think, having no purpose.

So, I decided it was time for a field trip.

We launched my skiff in the periwinkle light of dawn, gliding through the bayou with only the rumble of the trolling motor for background noise.I’d had her for years, a simple flat-bottom skiff with a shallow draft, perfect for these tangled waterways.At this time of day, the air was still cool and damp, heavy with the scent of rotting vegetation.Cypress roots thrust from the shallow banks like spindly fingers, and minnows rippled across the surface of the water.The bayou was waking, but slowly, as if savoring the quiet, sacred moments before the heat settled.

Gage was lounging in that lazy, crooked way he had whenever he was trying to get comfortable without giving his ribs too much grief.His hand trailed in the water, fingertips barely skimming the surface, totally unconcerned by the gator creeping along the distant bank.With the light hitting him just right, he looked more like his old self than he had in days.

“I knew you’d like this,” I said smugly, flipping open my metal tackle box and sifting through it by memory.My hand found a red spinnerbait, bright and flashy, with a little spoon attached to catch the sun just right.Perfect for coaxing redfish from their weed-choked hiding spots.

“You did, huh?” Gage asked, shooting me an amused look.

I tested the hook’s sharpness with the pad of my thumb, keeping it casual and saying idly, “Figured you were damn near climbing the walls by now.”

“Yeah, well…you were right.” A smile tugged the corner of his mouth as he began threading his own lure.“I’m not a fan of being stuck in one place.But you probably figured that out already.”

I steered deeper into the bayou, taking my time before answering.Over the years, I’d learned that the best way to approach Gage was sideways—so he didn’t see it coming.“I noticed. When you left…I thought that was the last I’d ever see of you.Figured you’d be happy to shake the dirt of this place off your boots for good.”

Gage looked out over the water, lost in thought, chewing on a reply.Out here, there was no one watching.No one to judge. Just the green-scented breeze and the ripple of water slipping past the hull.And still, his hand clenched and unclenched on his thigh, and his eyes never stopped moving.Never. He'd been raised to believe staying alert meant staying alive.

"Leaving solved a lot of problems," he said quietly, "and after what happened, I didn't think anyone would miss me much.Especially not you."

He should have just punched me in the gut; it would hurt less.All his swagger and tough talk made it too easy for me to ignore how badly I'd hurt him.

He cracked his neck and stretched, shifting to a lighter tone.“Sure missed this, though.”

“Nothing like it," I agreed, casting my line and watching as the lure skimmed the surface."Was there anything you liked about Vegas?"

“It was nice not having memories around every corner, I guess.My name meant nothing. No one knew me or expected anything.” He cast his own line into the water with a soft plunk.“But it gets lonely without memories after a while.”

After a beat, I said, "There have to be some good memories here.They can't all be bad."

He chuckled, eyes going unfocused, like he was seeing far into the distance—or the past.“Yeah, there are good memories.Especially out here. When I was maybe eight or nine, I used to sneak out to go fishing all by myself.Didn’t have much, but I made myself a little fishing kit out of some string and a rusty hook I found in my dad’s shed.I could’ve sat there for hours.The world’s first eight-year-old survivalist.”

Looking at him now, so hard and strong, it was jarring to think back on the boy he'd once been.If I hadn't been tracking poachers that day, I'd never have spotted the scrawny little boy with mud smeared across his cheeks like camouflage.He'd been hiding in the roots of an old cypress, watching me with huge, hunted gray eyes.No one had ever looked at me the way he did, like I was a hero, and I knew right then that I'd do whatever it took to protect that kid.

I regretted hurting him, but sometimes I wondered if his catching a bus out of Devil's Garden was the best thing for both of us.It gave him a chance to come home a man.Without that time and space, I never could have seen him as anything more than the boy I'd rescued.

I still wanted to protect him...but in a different way.

I wanted him to be mine.

I shifted the engine to idle and let us glide into a low, shady bank.“You’re the only man in a hundred miles who gets to share my spot,” I said, nudging his boot with mine.“Best fishing in the Garden.”

He raised a brow, looking skeptical.“You never took anyone else here?”

“My brother and dad used to come with me on weekends.Nothing fancy. Just some beers and enough boudin sandwiches to last the day.We had a running bet. Biggest catch got to sit on his butt while the others cleaned and cooked.”

“So that’s how you got so good in the kitchen,” Gage cracked with a teasing wink.“How about we revive that bet?Loser cooks tonight.”

I grinned. “You’re on.”

We relaxed in pleasant silence after that.The morning had started to warm up, but it was still too early for beer, so I unscrewed a thermos of hot coffee and passed him a cup.

“What about your brother?” Gage asked, taking a sip of aromatic dark roast.“He still around?”

“Not anymore.” I leaned back and stretched my legs out, crossing them at the ankles.“He’s up in Minnesota now. Got himself a wife and kids and took up ice fishing instead.I tried it when I visited a few years back, but freezing my ass off while fishing on a bucket just ain’t the same.”

Gage laughed, a light, free sound I wanted to hear for the rest of my life.“That’s something I’d pay to see.You in a pair of mittens. Maybe a hat with a pom-pom on top.”

“Laugh it up, but I’ve got a picture somewhere of exactly that.My folks framed it and hung it above their mantel."

“You see them much?” Gage asked, adjusting his line.He sounded curious, and I realized despite how long we'd known each other, we knew so little.I'd always tried to maintain a professional boundary between us, but now, I wanted him to know all the small, intimate details of my life:my personal record for a dead lift, favorite cereal, or the music on all my playlists.

I wanted to be in his life, and I wanted him in mine.

“They retired down in Florida a few years back,” I said, wedging my pole under a seat and settling in to sip my coffee.“Dad sold the old house and crawdad business and scraped up just enough to buy a condo.He split the leftover money between me and my brother.Doug used it to start up a fishing shop, and I used my portion to remodel the house.Make it somewhere I could see myself growing old, you know?"

"Maybe someday you'll retire to Florida like your dad," Gage suggested.His smile was small and bemused, like he was enjoying stories about my family even though he couldn't relate.

"Spending my time pulling in sea bass and hitting golf balls?" I wrinkled my nose."Doubt it. But he loves it. We stay in touch with phone calls here and there, but yeah, I miss the old fishing trips.”

“Well, you’ve got me now. I’ll be your wingman any time.”

“That right?” I raised one eyebrow and grinned.“I’ll hold you to that, you know.”

Gage shot me a sly look from beneath his lashes, one that instantly had my dick perking up and taking notice.“You ever take dates out here?”

“Nah.” I chuckled. “I usually drive down to Baton Rouge for that.The dating scene isn’t exactly bustling in Devil’s Garden.You may have noticed.”

“Not really.” Gage stuffed his tongue in his cheek, looking suddenly embarrassed.“I was mostly focused on only one person back then.You may have noticed.”

“I noticed, you little fucker,” I muttered under my breath.

He threw back his head and laughed so loud that an egret near the bank startled and took flight, swooping above our heads on giant wings.

"I get it now, you know," he said, flashing me a sheepish, lopsided smile."The way Ivy looks at me—it finally clicked.No wonder you looked so horrified whenever I tried to flirt with you.Can't really blame you, but I'm glad you finally got over it.Took you long enough."

"Just so happens, I'm real good at waiting 'til the time is right." I let my fingers trail lightly over his wrist, casual enough to pass as friendly,but lingering long enough to pick up his flickering pulse.His breath hitched, and I fought the urge to grin.

"Guess I came back at the right time," he murmured in a voice that had gone throaty.“Might even call it fate.”

“Fate,” I repeated, savoring the sound of it.Maybe it was. For nearly fifteen years, Eden and Gage had been on the periphery of my world.A thread running through the seams that held my life together.

Gage tipped his face up to the sunlight, basking in healing warmth.He looked untouchable, leaning back against the gunwale of the boat with that lazy, almost feline grace.A soft breeze ruffled his hair, tugging at the loose fabric of his t-shirt.His skin had taken on a healthier glow, and except for the deep bruises over his kidneys, the pea-soup colors had mostly faded.For the first time since that night, he looked like he was finally breathing easy.

I wouldn't have bounced back from being worked over nearly so quick, but then, this wasn't Gage's first rodeo.Pain and betrayal were expected parts of life for him.

I’d kept my hands off him since touching him in the bath.At first, it was easy. He was healing, sleeping nearly around the clock, and my focus was only on caring for him.I’d waited years, and then weeks more after he came home.A few more days wouldn’t kill me, especially when Gage wanted it as badly as I did.I saw it in his eyes.

Now that he’d gotten his strength back, there was nothing holding us back…and yet neither of us made a move.We were stuck in a strange no-man’s-land—not friends, but never quite lovers.

“Well, look at that!” Gage cried, bolting upright in surprise.His fishing rod jerked, and the line zipped through the water.He tugged, setting the hook, and gave me a grin that lit up whole his face.“I guess I’ve still got it.”

He wrestled with the rod, biceps flexing as he reeled, face bright with pure, unselfconscious joy.The line thrashed, and he leaned back with all his strength, reeling the fish closer inch by inch.

“Get ready to pay up,” he crowed, flashing me a cocky grin.“I won that bet.”

“That’s a hell of a claim to make when you don’t even know what’s on the line,” I shot back, though I couldn’t hide my own smile.“It could be an old boot.”

With one final heave, he pulled a massive redfish alongside the boat.One of the biggest I’d ever seen.He whooped, scooping it into a net and bringing it over the side, filled with so much glee I couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll cook,” I said, admitting defeat when he turned to me, beaming like he’d just conquered the whole damn world.Something tugged deep in my chest.

Looking at that smile, I knew I’d do anything—move heaven and earth—to keep that smile on hisface.