Eight years earlier...

The past few months with Wyatt have been the best of my life. Between the late-night ice-cream trips, to live karaoke at The Starlighter, we've been inseparable. It seems that no matter where we go, the town knows who we are. We've officially become the "it" couple of Darlington, predictions of us ending up married in a few years sweeping over the entire town.

Tonight, on Thanksgiving, might just be the most important night of our entire relationship. Despite dating for almost three months now, I've never met his parents. Wyatt isn't the type to take just any girl home, so when he invited my Dad and me over for dinner to introduce our families to each other I had a mixture of feelings that bounced between wanting to run for the hills from being so nervous and jumping up and down from excitement.

But when we arrive at the doorstep of Wyatt's house, I determine that I'm nervous. Definitely nervous. What if his parents don't like me? His family is so important to him. He's told me all about them—how his Dad is obnoxiously into football and his Mom collects little glass elephants to display on her kitchen shelves. If I don't get their approval, it'll be a huge problem for us.

"Please don't say anything to embarrass me," I tell my father after he rings the doorbell.

He turns to look at me, his eyes crinkling at the sides in amusement. I'm not used to seeing him in a dress shirt and jeans, but it looks good on him. "Why are you so nervous? This is a good thing that we're meeting, honey. It's about time if I'm being honest. I don't know why you've kept him away from me for so long."

I gulp when I hear the sound of heels clattering from the other side of the door. It's not that I didn't want Wyatt to meet my father, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to hide my past anymore when he did. I didn't grow up as he did. The way he talks about his Mom most certainly isn't the way I'd describe mine, and it's something I don't talk about with anyone. Even my Dad. We both don't talk about it and pretend it doesn't exist. It's better that way.

The door swings open to a tiny and petite woman with a short blonde bob. I have no idea how she gave birth to Wyatt, who grew to be well over six feet, but when she smiles, it almost makes all of the nerves flow right out of my system. "Oh Macey, it's so nice to meet you! We've heard so much about you." Before I'm able to object, she pulls me in for a hug and squeezes the life out of me. "You're even more beautiful than he described. Look at this dress!"

My cheeks are burning when she steps back to admire the burgundy knee-length dress I'm wearing over a pair of tights. It's modest, not too revealing, and my chest loosens at her approval.

"Dan," My father says with a smile and extends his hand out to shake hers. "It's a pleasure."

Wyatt's mom instructs us to hang our coats on the coat rack and then leads the way down a long hallway to the kitchen. It's bright and open with red checkered decor. Decorative roosters are displayed inside the cabinets, and then I spot the three shelves with all the elephants on them. I smile at Wyatt's story, my cheeks hot once more, but I blame it on the heat swarming from the oven that Wyatt's dad is currently checking out.

"Turkey's almost done," he says to her. His eyes slide to mine, a genuine grin taking over. "Macey Taylor. It's about damn time we meet the girl my boy is so infatuated with. Wyatt will be down in a sec. He's just finishin' gettin' ready."

When he straightens up, it all makes sense where Wyatt got his height from. He's a spitting image of his father, all the way down to the dirty blonde hair and striking blue eyes. I don't know why I feel so shy in his presence. I don't even know what I say in response to him as my Dad strides over to give him a firm handshake. The football game is playing in the living room across from the kitchen, and when Wyatt's father, who tells us to call him Bill, realizes my Dad is rooting for the same team as him, it's an instant friendship. He offers him a beer and they both head over to the couch to watch the game, leaving me and Wyatt's Mom alone.

I glance around at all of the ingredients on the island. "Do you need any help?"

A pair of hands snaking around my waist interrupts me, Wyatt's lips pressing against my cheek. "Hi," he says warmly in that deep southern drawl of his. He smells different tonight—a hint of a rustic cologne. "You look so beautiful."

His Mom is watching the entire interaction, but she seems overjoyed for us, not angry. "Thanks for offerin' to help, but you go ahead and spend time with each other. I'll be just fine."

"Are you sure?" I ask.

She nods and waves us away, but as soon as we turn around, my Dad is right behind us, waiting to be introduced. I feel Wyatt tense beside me, but for whatever reason, I'm glad to know it's not just me who is nervous.

"Uh, it's nice to meet you, sir." Wyatt sticks his hand out, but his hand isn't shaking. It's firm and strong. "I'm Wyatt."

"The boy who made my little girl fall in love with this town." He chuckles, and I can see Wyatt's body visibly relax. "It's a pleasure. Call me Dan. I don't want to be rude, but the game's getting pretty good." He thumbs behind him as Bill screams at the television.

"Oh, go ahead," Wyatt replies. "I was going to show Macey around the house anyway. I'll join you guys in a few minutes."

After another pat on his shoulder, my Dad joins Bill again on the couch and Wyatt drags me back down the hallway.

"Leave all doors open!" His mother shouts.

My jaw practically hits the ground as Wyatt's face turns as red as a tomato. "Ma, are you kiddin' me right now?" He shouts back.

I hear my Dad laughing hysterically in the living room. "Being a parent isn't any fun if you can't tease them, right?"

Wyatt continues up the staircase, but I pause to look at the family photos plastered on the wall beside it. There are plenty of Wyatt as a kid with a toothless grin. Fishing with his Dad, and cooking in the kitchen with his Mom. This house is filled with so much love it's practically bleeding from every inch of it.

"You were so adorable," I say.

He tugs on my hand to continue up the stairs, but I don't miss him blushing. We enter the third door on the left, and I'm suddenly standing in Wyatt's bedroom. Shelves lined with records and his guitar placed beside them make me grin from ear to ear. He's never played for me, but every time I ask him to, he says he's too nervous. He performs for people all the time at The Starlighter, but playing just for me is too intimate for him I guess. It's cute.

"I really just wanted to do this." He pulls me into his chest, tilts my chin up with his fingers, and kisses the hell out of me. I stumble backward, careful not to hit the wall as he moves his hand to drag down the sides of my dress.

I break away from the kiss, panting heavily. "Wyatt, our parents are literally right downstairs."

"Do you know how old this house is, darlin'? You would hear them climbin' up those rickety stairs from a mile away. Now come here." He kisses me deeper, and this time, I let him. He picks me up so that I'm straddling his waist, his hands grasping my ass as he moves his kisses to my neck. Nothing in my life has ever felt so right. I've been with boys before, but it's never been like this. I've never met someone's family before. I've never been so protected. So safe.

"God, Macey, you make me wanna-" He heaves out a sigh and then lays me down on his bed.

I tug him down on top of me, raking my hands through his hair, and then I slide a hand between us to grasp onto what I know is painfully throbbing for him right now. He groans right into my ear as he props his body up on one of his elbows, his other hand sliding between us to unzip his jeans. He's never asked me to do this, and I never offered because of his religious beliefs. I didn't know just how far he wanted to take it.

Our parents are downstairs. This is such a bad time to do this, but when I glance into Wyatt's eyes, I can see the desperation. How badly he wants to be touched. I want to give him all the pleasure he's seeking more than I've ever wanted anything.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

"I've never been more certain of anything," he says in a choked whisper.

***

Back downstairs after we were told dinner was ready, I can't even look at Wyatt without feeling like my face will burst up in flames. All throughout dinner he had a permanent smile on his lips—a special smile from the sacred moment shared between just us. I should share the same smile back, only now I feel my stomach twisted up with guilt. Granted, we didn't have sex, but giving him a handjob is just as bad, isn't it? Did that go against his beliefs? Did I coerce him into doing something he didn't want to do out of lust?

He certainly doesn't look like he regrets it.

To try and get my mind off of it, I offer to help Wyatt's mom, Linda, with the dishes. I'm washing while she dries, trying to get the images of Wyatt's release out of my head, but I can't. He stared at me like I was the most important person to him in this entire world. I'm his first everything. It carries a lot of weight. What if we don't work out? I can't become a fashion designer here. Not in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. If I have to leave for college, will that bother him? I didn't think we needed to have these crucial conversations so soon, but after tonight, we do. We definitely do.

I'm so deep in my thoughts that I aimlessly let go of a plate in Linda's direction, assuming she was there, and it drops to the floor, glass scattering across the kitchen tiles.

"I am—" My voice falters, fear striking every part of me. My bottom lip quivers as tears prick into the backs of my eyes, the nightmare of the night flooding into my head all at once. In seconds, my hands are shaking and I divert my eyes to the floor when my Dad, Bill, and Wyatt all whip their heads around from the back of the couch. "I am so sorry. I—I'll buy you a new one. Do you have a broom? I'll clean it up. I don't know how I could have been so clumsy. I thought you were there, and I—"

Linda grips me by the shoulders, forcing me to look up at her. Her eyes soften when she sees the tears streaming down my cheeks. "It's just a dish, Macey. It's fine. You didn't mean to break it, did you?"

I shake my head.

"Alright then. I've got about ten others that look just like it. I'm not worried one bit. Why don't you go clean yourself up while I get the broom, alright?"

"Okay," I meekly agree and avoid my father's gaze as I seek out the half bathroom down the hall. I can't bear to see the expression on it. The regret he still carries.

Once I'm in the bathroom, I splash some cold water on my face to try and make the swelling in my eyes go down. It doesn't work. Mascara is running down my cheeks, which I attempt to wipe away furiously when there's a soft knock on the door.

"Mace?" Wyatt asks softly. "Can I come in?"

"I'll be out in a second," I say, but it doesn't come out as confidently as I want it to. I choke out another sob and twist the handle to let him inside. He takes one look at me and pulls me right into that strong chest of his, his arms stealing the breath right out of me from holding me so tightly.

"What's goin' on, darlin'? Talk to me."

I shake my head, still not able to meet his eyes. "I have to go help your mom clean it up. I don't want to stay here too long."

"Talk to me," he repeats. "Why do you say sorry for everything? There's gotta be a reason behind it."

I knew coming over for dinner would break me. I knew seeing a house filled with so much love and laughter would make me crumble, but in the warmth of Wyatt's arms, I find myself spilling my secrets without giving it a second thought.

"My Mom wasn't the best person," I start shakily. "While I was growing up, she and my Dad fought a lot, and she'd always be the one to yell and throw things, but my Dad never once fought back, even when he was being verbally abused. She was a drunk."

Wyatt kisses the top of my head, holding me tighter against him and allowing me the space to get this out.

"Every mistake I made, she'd scream at me. If I spilled a cup of juice, I'd hear about how irresponsible it was of me for the next hour. I was told that I wasn't good enough no matter what I did. If I got a B on a paper, she'd ask why it wasn't an A. I always strived to be perfect for her for so many years of my life. I tried and tried and just kept failing. I couldn't get her approval. It took me a long time to accept that I'd never get it. She was miserable about her own life, and she took it out on me. She eventually lost her job from the drinking, and my Dad worked long hours to provide for us. He wasn't around to witness the verbal abuse until one night..." I choke out another sob.

"It's okay," Wyatt whispers into my ear. "I've got you, darlin'."

I nod and let out another deep breath. "I was setting the table for Christmas dinner. For the holidays we always used my Mom's good china that was passed down in her family and one of the dishes slipped and broke." I shudder at the whip of my mother's head in my memory. "She just started screaming and screaming at the top of her lungs and called me all sorts of names. My father had no idea, and when he saw that I was just sitting there taking it, not crying at all just like him from being so used to it, it was like a switch went off. He packed our things and we left that night. I was only eleven."

"Oh, darlin'..." Wyatt holds me against him, rubbing soothing strokes up and down my back as he lets me cry into his nice dress shirt. "You realize that nothin' you did was your fault, right?"

"Yeah, I know that now, but it feels so stupid to even break down like this about it. She didn't hit me, she didn't physically hurt me, but all of those words she spewed at me, all of those comments live in my head constantly. I don't think I'll ever be able to shut them out."

"Verbal abuse is classified as abuse for a reason, Macey. You have every right to mourn what was done to you. It wasn't right what she did, not at all, and I'm honored that you chose to share that with me. I understand you a hell of a lot better now."

I smile even though I didn't think I had it in me. "I don't know if that's a good or a bad thing."

He wraps his fingers around my chin and tilts me up to look at him, the expression on his face stealing my breath away. I've never seen him look so determined or serious. "To continue to live life, to be able to find the ability to laugh and smile and push through it all is the most attractive quality about you. You're the strongest person I know, Macey Taylor, and I'm hopelessly and foolishly in love with you."

Tears stream down my cheeks at his admission, but I'm grinning from ear to ear. My heart is bursting, butterflies dancing in my stomach, and then I laugh at how a hallway bathroom is going to become such an important place to me. The first time he told me he loved me.

"I love you too, Wyatt Brooks. More than you'll ever know."

A/N:

I felt better when I woke up from my nap, so there's still an update today!!

Also, for all my smut lovers, of COURSE, there is going to be smut. Would it be one of my books if there wasn't??? LOL. But they are minors in these scenes, and I'm trying to stray away from descriptive sexual content when they are that age :)

But, rest assured, it's coming :)

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