Wyatt’s eyebrows lifted, his gaze sharpening with interest. “Saved his life?”
I shrugged. “He was choking. No one else stepped in.”
The man clapped Wyatt on the shoulder. “You’ve got a brave one here. And beautiful.”
They walked on, still talking animatedly.
Wyatt stared after them for a moment, then looked back at me, something like awe softening his expression.
“You always were like that,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Stepping in. Doing the hard thing.”
I felt heat creep up my neck. “I didn’t think. I just reacted.”
He smiled. “Sometimes that’s the best kind of courage.”
For a beat, we just stood there, the space between us charged with old memories and new awareness.
“So,” he said finally, breaking the moment gently. “How long are you in Charleston?”
I hesitated, then answered honestly. “The rest of the week.”
“Good.”
Wyatt’s gaze lingered on me in a way that made the dock feel suddenly smaller.
Not uncomfortable. Not invasive.
Just … attentive.
The kind of looking that said he was really seeing me—not the idea of me he’d carried around for years, not the girl I’d been—but the woman standing in front of him now, in heels on a Charleston pier with salt in her hair and adrenaline still humming under her skin.
“So,” he said again, softer this time, like he didn’t want to break whatever fragile thing had settled between us. “The week.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Then back to Austin.”
“Still Austin,” he said, like he was tasting it. “You always said you’d end up there.”
I laughed quietly. “I say a lot of things.”
“That’s fair.”
We fell into a companionable silence, watching the water move. The dinner cruise boat had already pulled away again, its lights drifting farther out into the harbor, music floating faintly back to shore. The crowd around us thinned as people dispersedinto the city, the dock slowly returning to something calmer, more intimate.
I became acutely aware of Wyatt’s presence beside me. The heat of his body. The subtle way his arm hovered just far enough away to be respectful, but close enough that I could feel it, if I shifted.
It struck me then—how easy it felt. How natural. Like no time had passed at all, even though everything about us had changed.
Beth cleared her throat loudly from a few feet away.
“Well,” she announced, arms crossed, eyes bright with interest. “Are we all pretending this is a normal coincidence, or are we acknowledging that the universe is absolutely unhinged?”
Natasha smiled politely, but her eyes were sharp, cataloging everything. “I have questions.”
I groaned. “Please don’t interrogate him.”
