That's when Liam burst through the door in his Texas Ranger uniform, followed by Sheriff Cooper. Dottie must have called them.
"Wyatt!" Liam grabbed him from behind, hauling him backward with effort. "Stop, brother. He's not worth it."
"He hurt her!" Wyatt struggled against Liam's hold, still trying to get to my father, who was sliding down the wall, leaving a blood trail. "He's been hurting her!"
"I know," Liam said calmly. "But killing him won't fix it."
Sheriff Cooper was checking my father, who was conscious but dazed, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. "Art Garrison, you're under arrest for assault and drunk and disorderly. Wyatt, I'm gonna pretend I didn't see most of that, but you need to calm down."
“Calm down?” Wyatt’s voice tore through the diner—low, ragged, shaking with everything he was holding in. “You want me tocalm down?”
He wrenched free from Liam’s grip, shoulders rising and falling hard. His jaw was tight, blood still trickling from split knuckles, his chest slick with sweat and rain. When his eyes found mine, it was like being hit head-on by a storm—fury, heartbreak, disbelief all colliding in one devastating look.
“He’s why, isn’t he?” he rasped, voice raw enough to scrape. “Why you left.” I staggered back against the counter, mouth bobbing with words I couldn’t form, cheeks warm with hot tears. “I need to hear you say it, Ivy. For once, just tell me the truth.”
The world went still. No clatter of forks. No murmur of voices. Just the hum of the neon light above the counter and the hard thud of my pulse in my ears.
My secret—the one I’d buried so deep it had started to calcify—was clawing its way out, right there in front of everyone.
“Yes,” I whispered. It was barely sound, more breath than voice, but it shattered the quiet anyway.
Wyatt’s face twisted, grief and rage warring beneath the dirt and blood. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because of this!” My voice broke as I flung a shaking hand toward the chaos around us—the overturned stool, my father’s blood spattered across the linoleum, Wyatt’s torn, bloody knuckles. “Because Iknewwhat you’d do! Because I couldn’t let you throw your life away for me!”
He took a step toward me, chest heaving. His eyes shone—not with anger anymore, but something worse. “My life?” His voice cracked in the middle, a sound that ripped right through me. “Youwere my life, Ivy.”
The words hit like a body blow. My throat closed.
“And you would’ve killed him,” I shouted back, my voice trembling. “Or he would’ve pushed you until you did something that got you killed or locked up! Either way, you’d have losteverything—the ranch, your family, your future!”
“That wasn’t your choice to make!”
“I was eighteen!” I choked out, tears burning hot tracks down my face. “Eighteen and terrified and so goddamn in love with you I couldn’t breathe!” I stepped forward, my hands shaking, my whole body trembling from holding it all in too long. “Every time you saw a bruise, you got that look—that rage. And Iknew,Wyatt. I knew it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. Before you did something that couldn’t be undone.”
He stood there, silent now, fists still clenched and dripping blood onto the tile—drops of red mixing with the smear of my father’s on the floor. His breath came hard, ragged, like he was trying not to break in front of everyone.
And me—I couldn’t even look up. Shame pressed down like a weight. My chest hurt, my hands felt numb, my face was hot with humiliation, and years of fear finally spilling free.
The room stayed quiet—all of Copper Creek holding its breath—while the two of us stood there, stripped bare and bleeding, surrounded by ghosts we’d tried to bury.
My father spat blood on the floor. "Touching. The whore was protecting you, Blackwood. Ain't that sweet."
Wyatt lunged for him again, but this time, I stepped between them. "Stop. Please. This is exactly what I was trying to prevent."
"You left me," Wyatt said, his voice broken. "You let me think you didn't love me enough to stay, when really?—"
"I loved you too much to stay." I placed my hand on his chest, over his pounding heart. "I couldn't be the reason you destroyed your life. I couldn't bring my shame, my family's poison, into your world. Your family deserved better. You deserved better."
"Better than you?"
"Better than this." I gestured at my father, pathetic and bloody on the floor. "Better than violence and bruises and constantly looking over your shoulder. Better than drunk fathers and weak mothers who can't protect their children."
The diner was so quiet you could hear the coffee maker gurgling.
"All this time," Wyatt said slowly, "I thought you left because I wasn't enough. Because our dreams weren't enough."
"You were everything. That was the problem." My voice broke completely. "I couldn't let my father's darkness touch your light. I couldn't let my family's curse destroy yours."
