He chuckles, raising his hands. “Self-preservation, sweetheart. It’s a skill.”
The endearment warms my chest.
He winks, and I laugh for the first time in longer than I want to admit. The sound is foreign and familiar all at once, like muscle memory waking up after too much silence.
I look down at the pistol in my hands, then at my feet, steady beneath me.
It’s not the weapon that makes me feel stronger. It’s being trusted with it. Knowing that he didn’t question whether I could handle it. And that I don’t have to question that either.
Something settles in my chest. Something stronger than peace, lighter than fear.
It takes me a minute to figure out what it is: a growing certainty in who I am and what I’m learning I can be.
Chapter 11
Sadie
It’s the twelfth night when everything shifts.
The wind buffets the windows, snowflakes slamming the glass. The storm screams like something alive. But inside, the fire glows. The room hums with quiet warmth. Wyatt is in the armchair, barefoot, reading.
I don’t think.
I just… move.
I cross the room and lower myself into his lap like it’s the most natural place to be.
He stiffens for a second. Then exhales, one hand sliding around my waist, the other rising instinctively to cradle the back of my neck.
We sit like that for a long time. My face tucked into his throat. His breath warm against my ear.
I don’t ask for anything more. I just let him hold me.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I whisper.
“Do what?”
“Be with someone. Trust someone. Want this much.”
He’s quiet for a beat. Then: “Neither do I.”
I lift my head, startled. But his eyes are steady. Honest.
“I’ve been alone a long time, Sadie. Long enough I forgot what it feels like to care.” He cups my cheek, thumb brushing my lower lip. “But now you’re here, and I don’t think I remember hownotto.”
My throat closes. My heart trembles.
I kiss him.
Soft. Slow. Lingering.
Wyatt deepens it carefully, drawing me closer, his mouth coaxing mine open. His hand spreads across my back, warm and wide and steady.
A soft sound escapes me—need and relief tangled together.
He doesn’t push it further.
But every part of me wants to.
