What do you think Wyatt's POV will be? Will his Vulnerability be enough for Abs?

Any guesses?

What's your favorite scene so far?

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                                                              WYATT

My leg shakes nervously as I sit in the small dining nook in the corner of the kitchen, causing continuous ripples in my coffee mug. Why am I so nervous?

"You still like your eggs extra cheesy?" Abbie asks me, as she throws a dish rag over her shoulder grabbing a whisk from an island drawer.

"Yea" my voice cracks, Yea? That's your response? Fuck. Ask her something you idiot. Pick a topic, any topic.

"After months of bland food, I finally got my hands on some Tony's! Can you believe it? I swear it's the little things that can make a girl happy, reminding me of Louisiana cooking is just a cherry on top! Gosh, I miss it back home." She goes quiet, realizing her train of thought rerouted. Shaking her head, she continues to carry the conversation to break the ice.

"I was so excited to find it in the corner grocery store, I bought all that was on the end cap!" she laughs.

Gosh, how I have missed her laughter filling the air. If a laugh could have "perfect pitch" it would be hers, the way she carries the tune at just the right octave, is music to my ears and I can't help but smile. I join in and she turns to me, flashing her radiant smile, spreading across her face cheek to cheek. As if she too, had missed my laughter.

"I hope you're hungry! I tried to cook some of your favorites. We got ham and bell pepper omelets extra cheesy! grits, and bacon. I hope you don't mind; we ran out of toast and sausage."

"Abs! are you kidding! This looks amazing, and its more than enough." I say shoving my mouth with Abbie's famous omelet, I manage to slur out a thank you, before chewing. My taste buds explode, and I swear my mouth is over salivating from the Tony's Cajun seasoning and how it complements the sharp asiago cheese and enhances the crisp bite of fresh bell pepper.

"I don't know how I survived all this time without your cooking." I pause for a moment before taking another bite. "So, uh are you liking it here? where do you work?"

"Shit, shit. Work, I'm going to be late! I'm never late!" She stands from the table, twisting her long hair before shoving it into a messy bun, grabbing her apron sitting on the counter.

"Liv! We gotta go!" She dips into one of the rooms, and in under five minutes she is dressed and has Alivia in tow. They walk out in matching soft pastel yellow button-down dresses, the collars and sleeve cuffs trimmed in bright white. She hops across the living room while putting socks on each foot before reaching the front door. Alivia cuts through the back side of the kitchen, snatching the fork from my hand and stealing a bite of my omelet. Tossing her head back with a moan "ohhh, so delicious! Thanks, handsome!" she says with a wink, and proceeds to chin wave to me like Spanky from The Little Rascals, high tailing it through the door after she snags the hanging keys near the entrance.

"I'll be in the car!" She sings, leaving the front door open, allowing the crisp breeze to whip into the apartment.

"Wyatt?" Abbie calls out while pushing her heel in her sneakers, holding on to the door frame. She takes a step toward me with hesitation. Unsure of how to say bye, and a bit out of breath. "I'll, uh, see you later?" her eyes dart to mine and back to my lips, as she rocks from toe to heel. Is she thinking of kissing me?

Clapping her hands together and holding them to her chest. "

Bye, lo". But the door shuts before the word "you" had a chance to roll off my tongue. The apartment is so silent. And just like before with Abbie gone the room seems cold and grey. As I sit there alone with my thoughts, I replay the events that took place this morning. Abbie's voice on repeat. I love you. Taken partially out of context but still the same meaning, right? And Well, uh, stay as long as you like. Was that hesitation in her voice? Is that why she was rocking back and forth like that? I stand up and begin to pace, intertwining my hands together with my fingers as they rest on the back of my head. Biting my bottom lip in deep thought. Ah, shit she was being nice Wyatt, jeeze.

I clear the table, loading the dishes into the washer. And decide to leave her a note and my number. In search of paper, I walk into Abbie's room. Abbie always loved to write and journal, she would always leave whatever she was reading around the house while doing chores. She would turn the books face down, careful not to lose her spot. Leaving them in the oddest places like above the dryer and washer, on the porch swing or even in the linen closet. she had bright sticky notes all over her books along the margins, commenting on ways to improve and somehow managing to find errors in already published books with her strong attention to detail. Bingo, In plain sight, in a neat row and color-coded rested her books. A series of Corrine Michaels and Anna Todd novels, a few standalones written by Nicholas Sparks, a small stack of Karen Witemeyer books and of course, her journals.

But where the hell did she keep her sticky pads? I don't want to invade her space more than I already have, by pulling her desk drawers open, so I decide to rip a fresh page from the back of one of her journals. I pull the one that doesn't display as much damage along the weathered edges.

From the sight on the title, my mouth goes dry and there is a tight pressure in my chest, Wyatt. I'm conflicted, should I open it? Is it addressed to me? No, I won't betray Abbie like that, if she wants me to read it one day, I would. But not today, not like this. I'd be lying if I said I have no interest. But these are her personal thoughts, and I won't take this security of her deepest emotions and thoughts away from her. Putting the small journal back in its place, I decide it's better to get a different page, to limit confusion. Abs would probably be pissed if she even knew I was aware of my journal.

It's been three days, why hasn't she called? I roll out from under the truck, my hands and arms covered in oil and road grime from the undercarriage, grabbing a filter from Weston.

"Well, process of elimination? Were you an ass hole?" Weston begins to quiz me.

Are you fucking serious? "Damn, Wes. Thanks for having faith in me." I say throwing a dirty shop towel to his face, before rolling back under. "And I'm not an ass hole, I don't mean to be anyway." I shout.

Wes shifts, leaning into the truck's open hood to hear me through the truck's sound barrier body. "I mean it wouldn't hurt for you to smile and be a bit more social. I couldn't tell if you were pissed or messing with me seconds ago." He pauses. "Did you say thanks for cooking, letting me crash here? Did you confess your feelings for her? Tell her you are in love with her? Hug her bye?", he rambles off what seems like a five-page list.

"I could always call Liv and see what you did wrong."

"No, don't call Liv!" I quickly state rolling out from the truck once again, sitting up I grab a fresh shop towel to wipe the sweat beading off my face. "I'm sure she has her reasons, and besides that's desperate." I move to fidget with the laces of my boots.

"Desperate? Shit, G.I Joe, and what do you call this?" he laughs. "You've been moping around and bringing her up all week."

"Shit, I know, I know you're right. I'll stop by after our shift. I need to return some things to her anyway."

By the time my shift has ended for the day, I've backed out of my verbal contract with Wes to visit Abbie three, make that four times. Before my confidence melts away once again, my car is already in the wind and halfway to her apartment. I decide it's probably best not to go home to change and chicken out or pick-up flowers only to change my mind and chicken out.

Instead, I show up, slightly out of breath from rushing through the parking lot and up the flight of stairs only to turn around to retrieve the small stack of books still untouched and bound by thick rubber bands. The same stack I grabbed from her nightstand before leaving Louisiana. I quickly run my hands through my hair and adjust my pants and shirt to make sure it's still tucked along the back. Raising my hand to knock, I realize my forearms, hands, and parts of my tan shirt are covered thick, dark oil stains. Shit. I pace the hall, conflicted on rather I should have changed.

Before over thinking, once again. I grab the door frame and knock. Fuck. too loud, she isn't being arrested, chill.

"Abagail?" I call out in a low, calm tone.

I finally hear, locks twist and shift in what feels like the longest minute in my life. There she is. The swift movement of the door opening causes the air to push and lift her wavy hair from her face, and as if on cue, she does a slight tilt to her head and smiles. Simply breathtaking, and she hasn't a clue.

"Hi, Wy-."

But before she can complete my name, I'm blurting, still cinching the door frame on both sides for support. "Have dinner with me." Quickly realizing my nervousness may seem a bit commanding, I shift, placing my hands in my pockets, rocking back on my heels. "uh. Please."

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Awe, poor Wyatt! do you think Abbie heard? and how cute was nervous Abbie?

What do you think is written is her journal titled Wyatt?

Also I love Alivia's attitude. 100% Best Friend material (She kind of has a Brooke Davis vibe going, from One Tree Hill)! What about you? Is there Character that you can't stand, or you feel like you connect with? 

Please Comment, Vote and as always thank you so so much for reading MY book.

Interested to see where all my readers and from, I can see on my demographic map Canada, and the USA.  But would love to know if any of you guys are familiar with Louisiana or Nederland, Colorado? Which States are you reading from?