She shook her head. “I don’t know. She’s infatuated. I’ve never seen her like this.”
Wyatt took in Melanie’s profile. There was still a measure of tired behind her eyes, but she looked as if she’d managed a few hours of sleep.
She must have felt his eyes on hers. When she twisted in his direction, she grinned and ran a hand down the back of her hair.
He smiled.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” He stepped into her personal space and pressed his body next to hers. “Getting some sleep?” he asked in a gentle voice.
“A little.”
“Anything I can do?”
She glanced over her shoulder at her daughter. “Nothing you’re not already doing.”
When she twisted back his way, he closed the space between them and kissed her. Like every time, his body responded with a desire for more, not that this was the time, or the place.
She pressed a bit closer, and he suffered a groan.
Melanie broke their kiss and smiled. “Happy to see me?” she asked with a knowing smirk.
“Miss you,” he told her.
She lowered her eyes. “Now’s not the time.”
He placed a finger under her chin and forced her eyes to his. “Just holding you is enough . . . right now,” he added.
Wyatt wrapped an arm over her shoulders and walked her in the opposite direction from Hope and his father.
When Melanie looked behind them, he stopped. “She’s safe with my dad.”
“I know. It’s just . . .”
“It’s hard.”
“It’s impossible. I worry in my sleep.”
Wyatt kept walking and let her talk.
“I wake up in the middle of the night dreaming that we didn’t find her. I see her cold and broken on the side of the cliff.”
He held her closer.
“I see Mr. Lewis coming back and checking in at the hotel and none of us being the wiser to what he is up to.”
“I don’t think he’s coming back,” he told her.
She snuggled closer. “I still worry. Then there is Nathan and that pinched-face Oz woman.”
Wyatt stopped in the middle of the street and laughed. “Oz woman?”
“Yeah, didn’t Pensky look like the witch from The Wizard of Oz?”
Now that she mentioned it . . .
“I see her taking Hope away and Nathan laughing.”
“Oh, darlin’. Stop doing this to yourself.”
She shook her head. “I’m not. It’s my dreams. I feel so damn helpless. Like I’m not in control of anything right now. Like someone is going to reach in at any moment and take everything away.”
“You know what you need?”
She laughed. “For Nathan to jump off a bridge, or relocate to Alaska where he can’t get to Hope?”
“All good ideas. No, what you need is to remember the power you do have.” They were already walking back around the block and on the opposite side of the street. “You need to take control and do something other than react.”
Her laugh wasn’t convinced. “Like what?”
“I don’t know . . . sue Nathan for child support. Use the media that has been wanting to talk to you since all this happened to fight against Oz Lady and all those like her. Take control. It might not stop everything Nathan is doing, but it will make you feel better.”
Her feet met the street and didn’t move. “I can do that.” It wasn’t a question.
“You can.”
“Stop being a victim,” she said with a sigh.
The smile on her face said it all.
“You’re brilliant.”
He chuckled. “Second time today I’ve been told that.”
“Humble, too.”
He accepted her kiss, mourned it when she broke it off and disappeared inside Sam’s diner.
In the middle of the main street in River Bend, Wyatt realized how hard he’d fallen.
And he smiled.
Melanie sat beside Wyatt’s father, sinking her teeth into some of the best barbeque ribs she’d ever eaten and feeling as if the food was gas in a car that had been sitting in the front yard for twenty dry years.
She’d eaten enough to survive in the past week, but not enough to fuel her brain.
With Wyatt’s infusion of confidence and watching the town come together to celebrate her child . . . she was ready to fight.
“I’m angry, William. The man refused to give me a dime, said he was barely living off the funds his parents gave him for college. When I suggested he get a job like me, he couldn’t be bothered to tap into the hours set aside for his social life. We had a child. A social life takes a backseat to that.”
William stopped chewing on his corn on the cob to respond. “That it does.”
“Now he’s back and for what reason? And even if we don’t learn what’s behind all this, what makes him think he’s parent material? And you know . . .” she pointed the end of the rib bone at William, “that social worker has to be in his pocket. Hope was being cared for by a respected, sane, responsible adult when she . . .” The thought of Hope on the side of the cliff made her pause. “She wasn’t neglected. Isn’t neglected.”