Big Daddy Wants Me

14: Kyle.

The lights of the cabin send a wave of relief crashing over me—but I move even faster, hustling Waverly through the trees, over the packed dirt, and up the steps to the deck. The string lights I wound around the deck rail at the beginning of summer are lashing in the wind, their little bulbs still glowing heroically.

“Come on.” Less gentle than I should be in my worry, I push Waverly toward the door. She actually pauses to kick off her muddy boots first—so I snarl and lift her against my chest, carrying her inside the cabin like an unruly child and slamming the door against the wind.

I’m being an ass, and I know I am.

But I can’t think straight until the door’s locked behind us and Waverly is safe inside the cabin once more. Then I set her rigid body down, my heart hammering against my ribs.

As soon as I let her go, Waverly gets the hell away from me, kicking her muddy boots off by the wall. And I know she’s mad, because she’s moving jerkily and she won’t look my way, but I can’t bring myself to be sorry. Not yet. Not with the wind moaning outside and thunder rumbling louder than a heavenly drum roll.

“It’s not safe,” I say at last, toeing my own boots off. They’re caked in mud and dead leaves, and yeah, this’ll be a b***h to clean tomorrow, but it’s worth it to have Waverly safe from the storm. “You can’t just go out in bad weather like that. Not in the mountains.”

Waverly mutters something, then finally turns to me with crossed arms. She’s wearing sweatpants and some kind of fleecy blue sweater, and the whole outfit is soaked and clinging. Her blonde ponytail is plastered to one shoulder, and her cheeks are pale from the cold.

“You were out there.”

I stomp to the log burner. “That’s different.” There’s a small fire burning already, but we’re gonna need to make this thing sweat if we want to warm up.

“Why’s it different?” Waverly demands, and lord, I’ve never heard her argue back so fiercely. She’s powerful under that shyness; a force of nature, standing tall with her chin raised. “I’m allowed to care about you too, Kyle. I’m allowed to worry.”

The burner door jerks open in my hand, and I shove another log on there haphazardly. It’s sloppy work, but I’m too rattled by her words to do better. She really was worried?

“It’s different because I’m from here.” The burner door squeaks closed, the handle scorching my icy fingers. “I know what these storms can be like.”

“Rain, wind, thunder, lightning.” Waverly checks each off on her fingers, an angry blush staining her cheeks. “Yeah, I’m familiar with all of those. They’re not exclusive to Starlight Ridge, you know.”

“But they’re harsher in the mountains.” My bones creak as I push to my feet, and lord, I’d give my life savings for Waverly to understand me right now. To listen to what I’m saying. “You don’t get it, okay? You’re just a tourist—”

“Just a tourist?”

My head pounds. “No, wait. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Just a tourist,” Waverly says again, her voice waspish. “Right. I see.”

The fire crackles merrily in the log burner, completely at odds with the storm raging outside the cabin—and the argument raging inside. The heat spreads over my legs, but it won’t get either of us warm until we change into dry clothes. Until we call a truce and take it in turns beneath a hot shower.

Too bad we’re busy glaring daggers at each other, a chasm yawning open between our shivering bodies. This isn’t a huge cabin, but we might as well be standing at opposite ends of a football stadium right now. How did things go so wrong?

“Next time I won’t bother,” Waverly declares.

Is that supposed to upset me? “Good.”

She shakes her head and turns away. The sound of the bedroom door shutting behind her echoes through the cabin.