Beth shook it, eyes narrowed in open appraisal. “Wow. Sophie really buried the lede on ‘best friend.’”
Natasha smiled, warm but assessing. “Good to finally put a face to the mystery.”
Wyatt glanced back at me. “Mystery?”
I shrugged. “You vanished.”
His expression shifted—just a flicker, gone almost as soon as it appeared. “Yeah. I did.”
Beth and Natasha exchanged a look that saidwe’ll unpack this later.
“We should let you two catch up,” Natasha said smoothly. “We’ll … be over there.”
Beth hesitated, clearly dying of curiosity, then relented.
They drifted a few steps away, pretending very badly to be engrossed in their phones.
Wyatt gestured toward the railing. “Mind if we walk?”
I nodded, my body moving on autopilot.
We fell into step side by side, the familiarity of it startling. He matched my pace without thinking, the way he always used to, adjusting instinctively when I slowed.
“So,” he said lightly. “Charleston.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Girls’ trip.”
“Of course,” he said, smiling. “You always did love an adventure.”
I laughed softly. “You say that like you didn’t disappear on me.”
There it was. Out in the open, finally.
He winced. “I deserve that.”
We stopped near the edge of the dock, the harbor stretching out in front of us, dark and glossy under the lights.
“I thought you were going to the University of Texas,” I said, the words tumbling out now that the door was open. “Wedid orientation together. We talked about apartments. Classes. I waited for you the first week. And then … nothing.”
I swallowed. “I couldn’t find you anywhere. No Instagram. No Facebook. No anything. It was like you’d been erased.”
He leaned his forearms on the railing, looking out over the water. “I’m not on social media. Never have been.”
“I figured that out, eventually,” I said. “I thought about going to your house. Seeing your mom. Your brothers.”
His jaw tightened.
“But,” I continued, “I didn’t. I figured … if you wanted me to know where you were, you’d tell me.”
He nodded slowly. “I should have.”
There was an apology in his voice that felt real. Heavy.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly. “Things just … changed fast.”
I studied his profile, the strong line of his nose, the crease between his brows that hadn’t been there when we were kids. The man he’d become carried his history differently—like he’d learned how to hold it without letting it spill.
“I was devastated,” I admitted. “I don’t think I ever told anyone that.”
