Must Be Wright (The Wrights 3)

His throat was so tight, it was getting hard to breathe. “Okay. Make sure all your things are together. I just have to make a few phone calls.”

As soon as Belle wandered out of her mother’s bedroom, Wyatt’s knees gave out. He turned, pressed his back against the wall, slid to his ass, and covered his face with his hands. “Holy. Fuck.”

Fury exploded in the pit of his stomach. How could she do this? Just abandon her daughter?

He looked at the papers again and found a business card paperclipped to the back of the document. Attorney Ted Larkin. Wyatt rolled to his knees and pushed to his feet. He glanced down the hall and closed the door to the bedroom, but didn’t latch it. Then he went into the master bathroom, locked the door, and turned on the water in the sink. Only then did he dial the attorney.

With his butt against the counter, he braced himself with his free hand.

“Larkin and Douglas, attorneys at law,” a woman answered.

All Wyatt’s air left him on a whoosh. He was cold and sweaty, his vision tunneling. “Uh, yeah, hi. I’m calling… I mean I found a document…” The overwhelming situation hit him all at once, and all he could do was stammer “I… I don’t know…”

“Sir, let’s start with your name.” The woman sounded understanding, which helped Wyatt focus.

“Wyatt,” he breathed. “Wyatt Jackson. The name on the card I have is Ted Larkin.”

“Perfect. Hold just a minute.”

It was the longest fucking minute straight from hell before the attorney came on the line. “Mr. Jackson.” His voice was both soothing and compassionate. “I’ve been expecting your call.”

6

Gypsy tugged against whatever kept trying to pull her from sleep. She couldn’t face the day. Not yet.

Pound. Pound. Pound.

The knock on the door sounded more like a demand. Her mind darted to Marty, the man who owned the property where she lived, and his elderly mother, Alaina. As soon as her thoughts clicked that direction, Gypsy sat straight up. Her eyes wouldn’t focus, and everything was quiet. Did she hear that? Or was it a—

Pound. Pound. Pound.

Her heart kicked into a gallop. “Shit.”

Gypsy threw back the covers and started for the door with her mind darting a hundred different directions. Marty was in good health but he was in his 60s. Alayna was spry but she was in her eighties. And Cooper was with her sister Miranda. Gypsy never slept well when her son wasn’t under the same roof with her.

She swung open the door and found herself facing the last man on earth she expected to see on her porch—Wyatt Jackson.

Had she fantasized that one day he’d blow past all the walls she bolted into place? Hell yes. But that was all it was—fantasy. In reality, this sexy, touring musical genius was the worst possible option for a single mother just trying to keep all her loose ends tied.

“You’re like a bad penny.” He also looked damn fine in the morning. The cool air washed over her, reminding Gypsy she was wearing nothing but a tank top and sleeping shorts. She crossed her arms over her chest. “What is wrong with you? This is the first day I’ve had to sleep late in months.”

Wyatt shifted from foot to foot, his hands in his pockets, his shoulders riding too high, and the expression on his face looked oddly like panic.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, her mind already skipping ahead to the possibilities. “Did your parents get off on their cruise okay? Did your sister-in-law come home? Is Belle all right?”

“Yes, no, and yes. My parents and Belle are fine. But Francie hasn’t come home. I need to go meet with a lawyer.”

Gypsy pressed her palms against her closed eyes. “I don’t understand. A lawyer? Why not the police?”

“I went back to Francie’s house this morning to take Belle home, hoping Francie would be there, but…” He let out a hard breath. “It’s complicated, and I really don’t know what’s going on right now. All I know is that this lawyer is expecting me. I know I’ve been a really big inconvenience for you since I’ve been back, but I need to ask you another favor.”

Gypsy dropped her hands and gave him a lethal stare. “No more favors, Jackson. The last one kept me up all night. I was at the bar two hours after last call doing work I could have had done long before closing if I hadn’t been babysitting Belle.”

“I’m really sorry about that, and I’m really sorry about this. I swear I’ll make it up to you. No pit stops, no errands, nothing. Straight to the lawyer’s office and straight back.”

Gypsy had spent a lifetime cleaning up other people’s messes. Her mother’s, her father’s, her father’s kids’, Cooper’s father’s, and dozens of celebrities’. She left her job as VIP customer service at the top club in Miami to get away from all that. And she wasn’t about to start taking care of this rock star.

“Take her with you,” she told him.