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It wasn’t illegal for a town girl to date a boy from the seam. But it was certainly something that most people in District 12 frowned upon.
Was it because the blonde hair, blue-eyed merchants think of themselves superior to the olive-skin and gray-eyed folks? Well, Maysilee thinks they should shove their opinions up their prejudiced asses. Because why are people paying attention to who dates who when they’re all district scum to the eyes of the Capitol?
“I don’t know, Mays.” Wyatt said beside her after one of her many tirades. “People tend to crucify what they do not understand.”
“I just hate this.” She gestured to them and their surroundings. They’re at the meadow again where they hold their clandestine dates. It was the only place in twelve where they could meet in secret. “We aren’t doing anything wrong, so why do we have to adjust for those backward thinkers?” She let out an exasperated sigh before lying down on the grass and tried to make out shapes from the clouds drifting by. If she tipped her head high enough, it almost felt like she could get away, just drift into the endless blue and leave 12 behind.
“Don’t worry, darling. Someday we won’t have to go around sneaking behind everyone’s backs.” Wyatt reassured. “We’ll walk around town and I could come visit you after my shift at the mines, and you could come with me and I’ll show you the Hob and all the ways people cheat at card games, you could point out how Otho Mellark rolls his eyes at his wife when he thinks that no one’s looking,” that elicited a laugh from Mysilee.
“But you know what I like about being here?” Wyatt leaned back on his elbows and turned his head to face Maysilee who’s heart could have sputtered out of her chest from the way his dark brown eyes pierced into her, devotion and adoration laid bare.
“I like that I could do this,” he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek. “And this,” an audible smack to the other. Maysilee pretended to glare but she couldn’t stop the smile forming on her face.
His face turned serious as he cupped her jaw and brought his thumb to her bottom lip in a gentle caress, “but most especially, this,” and his lips were warm against hers. “Silver lining, see?” he whispered against her mouth.
Wyatt began to pull away before Maysilee wrapped an arm around his neck and another to his chest as she pushed him onto his back.
In life, there were two things that Maysilee despised the most; bad fashion and the smell of candy that she’s been trying to mask for most of her life. But no matter how much perfume she put on, it seems that she could never rid herself of the stench. It clung to the fiber of her clothes and embedded in every strand of her hair. She could almost feel it oozing out of every pore from her body.
Like every child, she used to love sweets, but one particular incident made her hate it. She was about 13 years old when freckly Tim Abernathy addressed her, “hey, aren’t you one-half of the candy girls?”
It was bad enough to be called candy girl but one-half? Maysilee loved Merilee more than anybody else but it was exhausting to be to be branded always as two parts of a whole. It was why she tried to differentiate herself as much as possible by loading on accessories. Atleast it made their dreadful matching frilly outfits more tolerable.
But even then, it became apparent to Maysilee that she would forever be associated to that damn sweet shop her entire life and she would have no choice because where else would she go?
And so, every morning ever since she finished school, she got out of bed somehow more exhausted than before she slept, put on a horrendous dress and the even more horrendous pink and blue Donner’s Sweet Shop apron and headed downstairs to start her shift serving up patrons. And unlike Merilee who keeps a smile plastered to her face no matter how tired she was, Maysilee couldn’t be bothered to put up with the façade.
“A bag of gumdrops please, the rainbow ones.” It was Haymitchy. And he must be in a good mood if he chose to face her instead of waiting for Merilee like he usually does. She noticed he’s combed his rat’s nest he calls hair. He must be going on a date with Lenore Dove. Her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head at that.
It seems that she’ll be scooping out sweets for annoying people like him until her hair turned gray and her back stooped to the angle of the counter—like each Donner before her.
She’ll marry a fellow merchant boy who secretly resented her, thinking that he could have done better than the mean daughter of the sweet shop owner and they’ll have blue-eyed, blonde-haired babies who have far too much opinions on everything but learn to bite their tongues anyway. She was filled with dread whenever she thought of the future that awaited her.
Atleast her friend Asterid had made it out. Even with her father’s threat of being disowned, she steeled her spine and didn’t look back. It was something Maysilee greatly admired.
Unfortunately, the other town folk didn’t share the same sentiments.
“Town girls don’t marry seam boys,” they said.
Maysilee was twenty-four and she couldn’t believe she was still hearing this nonsense.
She hated the ideologies they were trying so hard to instill. And just when she thought she was lost adrift in the unknown, she met Wyatt Callow.
Her tether came to her one night in the Hob wearing faded brown overalls and messy hair. She was on the verge of hysterics having lost her grandmother’s locket when he approached her with the gold necklace on his palm.
And one thing led to another with their friends prodding, they were on the dance floor with his hand on her waist and hers around his neck. The heat of his palm permeated through her dress that travelled up to her neck. She was thankful for the dim lighting that concealed her flushed face.
She’s seen him before of course. Maysilee had unconsciously memorized the schedule of his visits which was once month on the last Friday and purchases a bag of lemon drops.
During these times, she couldn’t help but watch him. His quiet demeanor intrigued her. He kept his head low and spoke in a soft voice like he wanted to be unnoticeable as much as possible. But it only heightened her interest.
And now their proximity raised that to a whole new level. She could feel his tense muscles under her touch, firm and steady which she has eyed on more than one occasion. Once, Merilee caught her staring for a second too long and smirked at her for an entire day.
In Maysilee’s defense, it was hard not to when his brown sleeves were rolled to his elbows.
Wyatt clearing his throat brought Maysilee back from her musings.
“They’re pretty,” he muttered, a flush creeping up his neck.
“What?”
“Your necklaces,” he gestured to the many cords and accessories around her neck. “They’re pretty.”
“Oh, thank you. Not a lot of people know how to appreciate the art of accessorizing.”
“You here with your friends?”
“Umm, yes. My sister Merilee and my friend, Asterid.” Her eyes roamed around to spot where the said girls were chatting away at a table. As if sensing her stare, Merilee looked at her from across the floor and gave her a teasing smile which she rolled her eyes at.
“What about you?” Maysilee took this as a chance to test the waters. “Who did you come her with?” she paused for a second before adding, “a special someone?” He laughed loudly at that like he found it very amusing. She secretly sighed in relief.
“Just with Burdock, I don’t really have a lot of friends.” There was a tinge of awkwardness in the way he said it.
Maysilee vaguely remembered what she heard about him and his family who runs the illegal gambling dens in their district. But she cared none of that, especially when Burdock clarified one time that he wasn’t the one setting the bets, he just determined the odds. Besides, Maysilee could hardly fault him for that. Like her, he was stuck in the same kind of inevitable future as her—never escaping their parents’ legacy.
“Friends are overrated anyway.” She said in a light tone, Wyatt tilted his head at what she meant by that. “What you need is an ally.”
“An ally…” Wyatt spoke slowly like he was testing how the words rolled off his tongue.
“Yeah, and I could be your ally—if you’re not too choosy.”
“Okay.”
And the progression of their relationship was as easy as falling water. With him, she never felt like the world was closing in on her.
So how could something that feels so right be wrong? How could two people who were meant for each other be forced into secrecy just because of the misfortune in being born on the wrong side of the district?
However, every time she brought up with Wyatt how she wanted to make their relationship public, he always turned her down. And it stung but she understood because who would be admit of dating the most stuck-up girl in town?
And so, their interactions in public were reduced to secret glances and finger caresses as she handed over the paper bag in the shop.
But something had to give because she knew they couldn’t stay like that forever. Fire in an enclosed space would be snuffed out. Wyatt knew it too; he could see the growing frustration on her face every time they met.
He never gave her a clear explanation but it wasn’t because he was ashamed of being seen with her or anything, but because he was concerned how the merchants would perceive her.
Gossip about Maysilee raged like wildfire already, he didn’t want to feed it more kindling. She was always vocal about how she was never bothered by whatever they said but the barely noticeable quiver of the corner of her lip says otherwise. Which is why Wyatt thinks that it would be best to keep it secret, it was bad enough that he was a seam boy, he’s a Callow too. And he couldn’t do that to her. He couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to truly tarnish her image beyond repair.
And he wasn’t very vocal but he often wished that his odds were a bit more in his favor. Maybe if he wasn’t born from a rotten family…
But if Wyatt wasn’t himself, and Maysilee wasn’t her; would it still be the same?
He hated treating their relationship like it was some illicit affair, he could kiss her all he wanted at the meadow but then pretend that they barely know each other in public. Maysilee doesn’t deserve to be confined in a relationship like this; like a canary in a coalmine—and he feared for the day when it would stop singing.
Not when they’re here now, despite the million reasons why it wasn’t possible. Somehow, all his luck from his misfortunes must have pooled together for that one night at the Hob when he saw that locket glittering on the floor. He could barely believe it even now after spending years of staring at her from afar, of spending his entire visits to their sweet shop just shuffling from display case to display case even if he always got the same thing. Forever contented with just being in the same space as her—atleast that’s what he thought.
Wyatt wasn’t a greedy man, but just this once, he wanted to be selfish.
“I might visit tomorrow, end my shift early,” Wyatt attempted to break the sullen quiet between them. He held the wire fence high as Maysilee’s head went under, hands on the hem of her lilac dress, he pretended not to notice that she usually held his hand.
“Mmm hmm…” she replied and he didn’t say anymore until they came to the edge of the town square where they would part ways. She looked around cautiously before half-heartedly kissing his cheek, face clouded with a guarded expression, the way she was whenever she was truly upset. Something clenched around his heart, wishing that he could read her mind, or find some way to alleviate this tension between them.
He watched her retreating back, head a storm of decisions. Either they fix this or the canary won’t resurface from the mine this time. And it had to be now. However, the only thing stopping him was the thousand possibilities that lie before him.
He couldn’t help but be pragmatic. They live in a world where anything could happen, and as a child, he found comfort in statistics, knowing if he ran the digits right, he could calm the anxiety that always seemed to follow him around like a black dog. He relied on statistics to make decisions with the best outcome for everybody.
His indecisiveness was broken when Maysilee stopped and smiled so forced it strained her cheeks, “it’s okay, Wyatt. Because I wouldn’t marry me either…” she attempted to laugh though it came out as a choked sound.
And all thoughts flew out.
The moon’s light reflected off her golden head, a shining halo in dusty, grim, old 12. Her eyes so blue he would willingly drown in it. And it brought him back to all the times when he would hyperfixate on the freckles that lightly dusted across her nose, forming constellations. He remembered how he would lay his head on her lap as she carded her fingers through his hair, lulling him to sleep. How he would wake up embarrassed because he knew how badly he snored and she would laugh at his flushed face but kiss him anyway.
And suddenly… suddenly… fuck statistics. Why should he have to rely on numbers when the very proof of the .001% chance is right infront of him? And even then, he would have made up new formulas if it led to her.
Wyatt was prepared to risk everything for the probability of her over the actuality of everything else.
“Maysilee,” he called.
“Wyatt,” The blonde’s whisper carried across.
One step… another… a full sprint…
“I have to say this now;” he held both her hands, cold from the night air. “It was never because of that. Never assume that it is something because of you, because from what other people see as flaws, I see it as a charm and I just wish that people could see you the way I do.
And you are the best thing to happen in my life but your relationship with the townsfolk has always been strained and after seeing how Asterid was practically shunned—even by her own father, I realized that I couldn’t do that to you.”
“Wyatt—” she started to speak but he cut her off which he never does. But he must let it all out now, he couldn’t handle any more miscommunications.
“But now I don’t even care anymore. Like you always said, they can shove their opinions up their asses. A-and if you would let me, I would like to go on loving you, fuck them.”
Maysilee stood still as a statue and for a few heart-stopping seconds, Wyatt feared that he made everything worse, and he miscalculated everything and their relationship that was on the precipice was fully plummeting to ruin and it was all his fault.
He was caught by surprised when Maysilee launched herself to his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her lips hard against his. On instinct, he held her hips with one hand, the other cupped her cheek.
“I love you too,” she whispered against his lips.
“Well,” an agitating voice broke the atmosphere, “isn’t this sweet.”
Maysilee and Wyatt flinched in surprise. Standing in an ugly mustard yellow dress was Allie Lipp, the district menace—even by Maysilee’s standards. She’s been a real annoyance ever since their family never won back the mayoral position after her grandfather lost it decades ago.
“A town girl, canoodling with a seam boy, how scandalous.” She said with an evil glint in her watery blue eyes. “Although I think I’ve seen this one before. I guess birds of the same feather really do flock together huh.”
“Really, Allie? Is that the best you can do?” Maysilee said coolly despite the thunderous beating of her heart. “If you really wanted to be offensive, that dress is doing enough, thank you very much.”
Allie’s nose flared at the insult, “I wouldn't talk, if I were you. Maysilee Donner, the most stuck-up girl in the district acting like she’s above everybody else but secretly goes around with scum, oh how the mighty has fallen indeed!” she cackled and Maysilee nearly charged towards the damned egg-yolk colored pest but Wyatt sensing her intention kept his arm around her wrist firm. “What, you realized that no merchant’s kid actually likes you so you went down and sniffed around the dirt? Tell me, when you two kiss, can you still taste the coal?”
Maysilee was practically shaking from rage but pressed her nails to her skin to keep her cool, as much as possible, she knew that violence would only escalate and whatever damage she does would affect Wyatt’s image too, Wyatt who was so stunned he stood still as a statue but she could see the quiet rage brewing within.
“I don’t know, Lipp. Maybe you should ask your Pa, I believe I spotted him with his arm around a girl half his age at the Hob, what’s even crazier is that she wasn’t even the third or fourth seen with him this week.” Once she started, she couldn’t stop. “Oh no,” she raised her brows in feigned concern, “what would your ma say? Oh right, she’s practically unresponsive unless she’s doped up with morphling.”
And if they go low, start digging to hell, “It really explains all explains this...” Maysilee gestured at the seething girl, “fatherless behavior…”
“You bitch,”
Maysilee felt the sting of a slap but having expected this, she immediately striked her palm aginst Allie’s cheek in retaliation. Wyatt acted quickly and stood in-between the two girls, his arms on a protective stance around his girlfriend against the insulted one who managed to take a hold of Maysilee’s blouse for a split-second and rip-off a few top buttons before her hands were pried away.
Unbothered, Maysilee continued to taunt her from behind Wyatt with a smug smirk.
“You—”
“Maysilee Donner!”
The commotion stopped at the sound of Mr. Donner’s voice. The two women stood still and Wyatt tried to quell the prickling sensation as he felt the older man’s eyes on him.
“I believe it’s time we head home, as do you Ms. Lipp.” he walked past his daughter with a sack of saccharin under each arm towards the Donner’s sweet shop. Maysilee and Wyatt looked at each other before following.
“Um sir, let me help you with that,” Wyatt tried to offer but was only met by a piercing stare. The rest of the walk was spent in silence. He took off his jacket and placed it around Maysilee’s shoulders who kept a hand to her open blouse.
“Pa—” she tried as her father unlocked the door to the sweetshop. “Wait until we get inside, Maysilee.” He cut her off
He disappeared in the backroom to deposit the sacks while Wyatt and Maysilee trudged upstairs where the Donner’s living quarters were situated. He wanted to hold her hand badly but held back. In the living room, Merilee sat on the sofa became still as a board when they came up, sensing the situation. She and Asterid were the only ones who knew about their relationship. One of the bedroom doors opened revealing Mrs. Donner wrapped in a night robe who must’ve heard the door open.
“Maysilee, your home—” Maysilee went to kiss her mother on the cheek whose eyes roamed over to Wyatt by the door. “And I see that you brought a… friend.”
“Yeah, about that…” Maysilee chuckled nervously.
Heavy footsteps began to come up the stairs. “Merilee, why don’t you heat up some water for tea?” Mrs. Donner told Merilee who practically shot out of her chair, sensing the chaos about to ensue.
Wyatt steeled his spine as Mr. Donner came through the door and sat on a leather armchair.
“Sit, boy.” The older man said in a gruff voice. Wyatt did as he instructed, Maysilee move to sit beside him before her father looked at her pointedly, “and Maysilee, I’d like to talk to Mr. Callow alone, man-to-man.”
Oh shit, Wyatt thought. He knows who I am.
Once the ladies left the room, Mr. Donner rolled his neck until it cracked.
“Surprised that I recognize you as one of old Jethro’s boys?”
Yes, yes he was. Nothing set him too different from the other seam folk; the dark hair, olive skin, if not for his eyes that were slightly narrower compared to the almond shape most of them had, a rare feature even for District 12.
“Um, no sir.”
“I’m going to be straight with you, young man. In truth, I don’t really mind whether Maysilee brings home a merchant’s boy or a coalminer, what I won’t accept is her bringing home a Booker Boy.”
Wyatt had to bite his tongue at the last sentence, wanting to argue that he wasn’t. But what difference would it make? He was still a Callow.
“I can’t have my daughter being associated with that no-good family of yours, especially now that I just witnessed her getting into physical fights over you. Someday, you’ll understand that as a father, I only want what’s best for my daughter, and you ain’t it.”
He could’ve stabbed an ice pick straight to Wyatt’s chest and it would’ve hurt less. It felt like a bucket of ice was poured over him, seeping into his veins. All that declaration just for him to be out rightly rejected by the father of the girl he loves.
“Alright, I-I understand, sir.” There was a prickling sensation at the back of his lids but he willed himself not to cry. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience, have a good night, Mr. Donner.” He stood up and left. Just as he closed the shop’s door, he heard Maysilee causing a rampage. And his heart broke but unfortunately, he did understand where her father was coming from. He will always be a Callow, a pariah in District 12, this will always be his branding.
Still, Maysilee’s voice carried outside from the open window, Wyatt could hear snippets.
“You can’t do this, Pa! Only I can decide for myself!”
Behind him, the shop’s door opened again with Maysilee running towards him barefoot and hair disheveled like she wrestled her way out of the house. Her blouse flapping open as she ran and he could see that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. She looked so beautiful, so unattainable that he couldn’t help the renewed watering of his eyes.
“Maysilee, it’s cold out,” Wyatt forced a smile despite the stone lodged in the back of his throat. “You should head back inside, darling.”
She wasn’t even listening as she launched herself into his arms. “I don’t care.” She half-sobbed against his chest. “I know who you are and that’s what’s important for me. You aren’t your father, and even then, his legacy doesn’t define you.” She kept her hold around his neck, burying her face on the crook of his neck where he could feel her tears flowing.
He didn’t notice that the Donner’s neighbor had their windows opened, eager to see the latest gossip. But he did see her family heading towards them, Mr. Donner with his lips pressed in a thin line.
“Maysilee, haven’t I been clear already?” he tried to pry his daughter’s hands from the Callow boy. “You could choose anybody else—hell, I wouldn’t even blink twice if you brought back a Covey. C’mon sweetie, be smart.” He said with a surprising gentleness in his voice.
“But daddy I love him!”
She spotted Elsie Mellark with a hand on her swollen belly and a crazy idea came to her then, “I’m having his baby!”
And District 12 has never been quieter. Her father took a step back in shock.
“W-what?”
“I’m having his baby,” she repeated more firmly and took the stunned Wyatt’s hand and placed it on her flat stomach. “If you separate us, you’ll have to bear the fault that a child will grow up without a father.”
“Is this true?” Mr. Donner faced Wyatt with a murderous look growing on his face. And he couldn’t handle lying but he didn’t want to leave Maysilee hanging too, so weighing the possible outcomes. His reply would determine whether he gets to see the light of day again.
“No sir.” He answered truthfully. “Atleast not yet.”
But he wasn’t sure that that was the smartest response because the older Donner raised a brow at him.
“Okay fine! It’s not real, okay!” Maysilee turned her hands up in surrender. And that’s when they noticed all the other merchants watching the spectacle still dressed in night attires with hands pressed to their mouths in shock. She rolled her eyes and tugged Wyatt along to the privacy of the sweetshop with her father trailing behind.
Once inside, her father fell on a stool in disbelief of everything that just transpired. He propped an elbow on the counter with dilemma all over his face, he knew how stubborn his daughter is and once she came to an idea, she stuck to it like a belief system. Maysilee and Merilee, his pride and joy who could never do wrong in his eyes. He himself taught them that they should not abide by what society tells them to and to make their own choices, however, he didn’t think that his own advice would backfire like this. Maysilee was always the more stubborn of the two, never satisfied with anything the district has to offer. And it saddened him as he watched her face look more and more pinched with every passing year staying at the counter.
But there isn’t much he could do, its not like there were other opportunities in their district. He always hoped to find some way to alleviate her discontent—but not like this. He never would have thought that it was a Callow boy who would bring the light back to her face. He remembered his disbelief when Maysilee started to smile again, not the one she puts on before making a snarky remark at some poor kid’s fashion choices, but a genuine smile—like when her grandma was still around. He used to be resigned that his daughter would end up the same way as most people in 12 do after years of exasperation, old with bitterness etched in worn faces.
Could he accept the boy even with the memory of his father? The memory of him watching his poor mother fishing out betting slips from pockets, his mother who single-handedly ran the sweetshop while raising him on her own after his no-good father ended his life and leaving them to shoulder his debt.
The betting scene was the worst part that taints District 12 and the boy infront of him is the personification of it. And of all the others who could’ve caught his daughter’s attention, she really just had to go and pick Jethro Callows’ oddmaker.
Just then, Maysilee, his sweet, rambunctious daughter who never lowered her head for anybody sank to her knees and took his hands in pleading. To plead amnesty for the boy whose family nearly drove theirs to the dirt.
“It’s not real, Pa. I’m sorry I said that.” She scrunched her brows and pouted her lips just the slightest. It was a look that was sure to get her anything she wanted. The first time she looked at Wyatt with those puppy eyes, he knew he was a goner. And like him, her father couldn’t deny her too.
“But haven’t I been a good daughter? Do I not wake up every day and work even if I hated every minute of it?” She kissed her father’s clenched knuckles. “Papa, you told me to find what makes me happy and this is it, please give me this.” When she stood up, she noticed the slightest drop of father’s shoulders drop in resignation.
Wyatt moved to take his place beside Maysilee. “I understand your concerns about my family, sir. But I’m willing to prove that I am deserving of your daughter. And I promise that the moment she decides that she doesn’t want me anymore, then I’ll leave. But as long as she’ll have me, I will stay devoted to her.”
It was a long shot, the odds were stacked up against them, so even as Wyatt stood with Maysilee holding onto his elbow in the Justice Building as they made their marriage official; he could still hardly believe it.
After signing their marriage papers and accepted the greetings of family and close friends, he was still in a trance. It’s like there was a filter in his vision that gave the surroundings a halo glow. Maysilee looked like a dream in her grandmothers wedding dress, altered to her design. Merilee and Asterid fixed her hair so that it hung in loose curls under her veil. Her neck was bare save for the golden locket. She didn’t have to differentiate herself from anyone tonight.
She looked like something divine.
Maysilee must have noticed his staring, “What? Having seconds thoughts husband?” she jests and his heart soared at what she called him.
“None at all, Mrs. Callow,” he relished the way he said that. He wouldn’t have forced his surname on her but she insisted (much to the further dismay of her father). Not because she was trying put as much distance between her and the business, but as a proof that they were now as one; through joy and hardships, in sickness and in health, for reach or poorer, and that she accepts him, name and all.
“I still can’t believe you dropped that baby bomb in front of the whole town square,” Wyatt whispered to her as a small celebration was held at the Donner’s sweetshop, there was a cake smothered in strawberry cream and the Covey provided a nice music in the background. Even the Callow family was there who brought booze and roasted chickens. The only person missing was his father who he’s always had a strained relationship with. It was no surprise he didn’t even bother coming to his own son’s wedding.
“What can I say, I’m ingenious like that,” Maysilee winked, he threw his head back and laughed.
From the corner of the room, Philip Donner watched as his newly-wed daughter laughed with her husband. He still wasn’t sure about the boy but watching his daughter’s face and the way Wyatt looked at her like she hung the moon, he found peace in knowing that she was in good hands.
It was early evening when the newlyweds were urged into a car (curtesy of Merilee and her wealthy fiancé). Wyatt insisted that Maysilee wear a blindfold as they drove, insisting that it was a surprise.
“Careful,” Wyatt held her hand as she stepped off the car.
He removed the blindfold momentarily to let the two sisters properly say goodbye to each other. For a moment, they stood with foreheads touching, arms in an embrace like a mirror view. But there was no sadness, just love and hope for new beginnings.
Wyatt waited until the car drove off from sight before covering her eyes with his hands.
“How much farther is it?” Maysilee held the hem of her dress with one hand and Wyatt’s wrist for support in the other. There was a faint scent of flowers and fresh paint in the air and her curiosity grew.
“Right here, stay here.” Wyatt told her before he left for a bit. The sound of a light switching came from a distance before he came back to her side. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.”
Infront was of an old but lovingly familiar house. But unlike the dilapidated old one from her memories, the house was in good condition.
“Grandma’s house.”
“Yeah, it was sort of, part of the deal that I made with your father.” Wyatt scratched the back of his neck. “But from the way I see it, I think it was more like an early wedding gift.”
That was most probably true, her father wouldn’t admit it but he will always look out for her and Wyatt by extension, who has grown on the old man over time. He made deals with him at first. One of those was that he would stop the oddsmaking at the betting scene (but once in a while, he helped his father run the numbers, consulting, they call it). His skill with computing proved to be helpful at the sweetshop too, her father was relieved of his huge workload at the accounting of the business. He was extremely impressed when Wyatt once helped him with his taxes.
But she didn’t know about the house. It must have been why for the last year, he’s been absent most of the time, said he was picking up more shifts at the mine and other things.
Mr. Donner helped with the cost of the renovation but it didn’t come cheap. So when Wyatt wasn’t doing odd jobs here and there, he worked on the dilapidated house with the help of a few friends. In a year, the house was restored to its old beauty.
Maysilee turned to Wyatt with her palms to her chest, “I really, really love it.”
“Wait ‘til you see the threshold,” it wasn’t much, just filled with the necessary furniture but he knew that they could both make it work, soon enough, the house would be filled with personal mementos to last through the years.
“Alright, just give me a sec to rid of these,” she started to take off her heels.
“If your father didn’t force that confession out, what would you have done with the baby thing?”
Maysilee chucked her heels beside the door and gave him a mischievous smile. Wyatt gulped when she pushed him softly until he felt the railing on his back. “I would’ve made it real as a last resort.” Something ignited in his core.
“Your commitment to do things out of spite scare me sometimes.” Wyatt retorted in a husk voice. He swiped a finger to her lips before trailing down and settling it them on her waist.
With a quick movement, he flipped their position and raised a hand to her jaw, his thumb resting on the base of her throat. She placed a palm to his chest where she could feel his heart beating like mad, similar to her own.
“I hope not enough to turn you away,” Maysilee breathed.
“Nothing you do could make me ever think otherwise of you, in fact, I think it’s doing the exact opposite.”
Their lips collided and Maysilee felt like a dam had burst in her chest as she raked her fingers through his hair and down his tie which she started to frantically loosen. After, she leaned back to admire her work.
Heat pooled deep in her stomach at the sight of Wyatt’s messy hair and the tie hanging on his shoulders, somehow, a few buttons of his shirt was ripped from her haste too. His eyes darkened as she caught her breath.
And they were back again at each other again, hands traveling the expanse of each other’s body, Wyatt was familiarizing with her every curve. He pressed her backward until he settled between her knees, not daring to break the rhythm of their mouths. Maysilee tasted of strawberries and he could tell that he just found a new favorite flavor.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you too, always.”
Maysilee felt his hands digging beneath her dress, which rode high when he grabbed her thighs, bare as they wrapped around his waist. His mouth lowered to the pale column of her throat and all sorts of sound threatened to let loose come out of her. She grabbed his nape and tugged. Forehead to forehead, panting hard, her hair fell to a curtain around them, blocking out everything.
“How about we take this inside? Wouldn’t want to give our poor neighbors something to talk about.” They chuckled at the idea of having a new scandal ravaging their district.
Wyatt moved for the front door a fever breaking out in his body and guttural sounds in his chest. He twisted the doorknob and staggered inside before pinning Maysilee against the wall, barely registered the sound of the flower pot breaking as it crashed onto the floor. And they moved in sync, he didn’t know where he ended and where she began. Fire ignited where their skin made contact and for her, he would willingly burn.
Possibilities lay out before them by the millions, the odds of different outcomes differing but never zero. But instead of dread, it filled him with hope. Because whatever may happen, even in different lifetimes, he will and always love her.
Of this he’s certain.