“Not always,” Wyatt argues. “I had an older sister. She died when she was five, and I was two.”
I frown, “I did not know that. What happened?”
“Freak accident,” He responds while staring at the TV.
We are silent again for a few minutes. I look absentmindedly at the TV. “You can change it to something else if you want.”
Wyatt huffs and grabs the remote, “Thank you, goddess.” He flips through the channels before landing on Indy car racing.
“My grandfather loved Indy cars,” I state.
We watch the racing for a few hours until lunch is brought to us. It is a simple lunch of ham sandwiches with potato chips and fruit. While chewing on my sandwich, I am overwhelmed with the scent of chamomile, and a second later, my beautiful mate steps into the room. We lock eyes, and for a moment, I forg
