It’s still a dangerous thought. But for the first time since the beach, it doesn’t terrify me quite as much as it should.
Maybe Wyatt Ford is exactly who he appears to be. Maybe this time, the man I love isn’t performing a role.
Maybe this time, it’s real.
I’m not ready to bet my heart on maybe. Not yet. But I’m getting closer.
And on the hard days, when Preston’s voice gets in my head and I feel small and scared, I’m learning to remember what Nico said: healing isn’t linear. Progress isn’t a straight line. Some days I’m strong. Some days I’m scared. And both of those things can be true.
I’m allowed to be messy. I’m allowed to be healing. I’m allowed to take my time.
And Wyatt — patient, steady, wonderful Wyatt — is willing to wait.
Chapter 24
Wyatt
I’m adjusting the same photograph on my wall for the third time, nervous energy buzzing under my skin.
Three days ago, I called Snow and asked her to do something crazy.
“You want me to what?” Snow’s voice rises slightly over the phone.
I pace my loft, phone pressed to my ear, second-guessing this idea for the hundredth time. “I want you to meet my friends. Derek and his wife Annette. They’ve been asking about you.”
There’s a pause. “That sounds nice. When were you thinking?”
I take a breath. “And… Jade and her wife, Clara.”
The silence on the other end is deafening. I can practically hear her heart racing through the phone.
“Jade,” she repeats, her voice carefully neutral. “The model from St. Lucia. Jade.”
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” I say quickly. “I know those photos still hurt. But Snow, I keep thinking about what you said on the beach — about needing to see what’s real versus what’s performance. Jade and Clara are my friends. I thought… maybe if you met them, saw them together, it might help replace those fake images with something real.”
Another long pause. I’m about to tell her to forget it, that it’s too much too soon, when she speaks.
“Let’s do it.” Her voice is shaky but determined. “I can’t keep letting those photos have power over me. I know Jade isn’t a threat. I know the dinner was staged. But knowing something and feeling it are different. So I need to face this.”
Tonight, Snow is meeting Jade and Clara. I’m either about to help her heal from the St. Lucia trauma, or I’m about to watch everything we’ve rebuilt crumble.
My mom’s Texas chili simmers on the stove — one of only three things I can cook without disaster.
The buzzer rings, and my heart gives a hard jolt.
Snow is standing in my doorway, looking beautiful in a simple dress that makes her eyes shine. But I can see the tension in her shoulders, the way she’s gripping a bottle of red wine like a lifeline.
“Hi,” she says, her voice a little too bright.
I take the wine from her. “You okay?”
“I’m here,” she says, which isn’t really an answer. She steps inside, and her hands are trembling as she reaches for the wine opener.
Derek and his wife Annette arrive a few minutes later, bringing with them a chaotic, joyful energy that immediately helps diffuse some of the tension. Annette is sharp and witty, with a laugh that’s loud and infectious. She immediately pulls Snow into a warm hug.
“I have been dying to meet you,” Annette says. “Derek and Wyatt have been friends since college, and I’ve never seen this one—” she jerks her thumb at me “—so completely gone over someone. It’s adorable.”
Snow laughs, a real laugh, and some of the tension in her shoulders eases. “He talks about you guys all the time, too.”
