I laughed weakly through my tears. “It didn’t.”
Wyatt’s face was pale now, eyes dark with something fierce and protective and heartbroken.
“So, we left,” I said. “Austin. New start. She said it would help. And I went with her because I thought—maybe it would save her.”
My chest hitched. “And I thought it was my fault. All of it. Jonesy. My parents. The house. Our family.”
Wyatt pulled me closer, resting his forehead against mine. “Jesus, Soph.”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” I said. “My mom didn’t want it talked about. She didn’t want pity or questions or reminders. So, I learned how to carry it quietly.”
His voice was rough when he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me? When we ran into each other at UT?”
I closed my eyes. “Because I was barely holding it together. And you were … you were still you. Still normal. Still Valentine.And I didn’t want to be the girl whose tragedy sucked the air out of the room.”
He exhaled sharply. “I would’ve listened.”
“I know that now,” I said. “But then? I just wanted to survive orientation without breaking down.”
Silence settled between us, thick but not uncomfortable. Wyatt’s arms never loosened.
“I studied counseling because of it,” I admitted quietly. “Because I needed to understand grief. Trauma. How people break and keep going anyway. I told myself it was about helping others—but really, it was about helping myself.”
He nodded. “That makes sense.”
“And then last night,” I continued, “when that man started choking … I didn’t think. I just moved. And afterward, all I could think was—this time, I didn’t freeze. This time, I didn’t lose someone.”
My voice shook. “It felt like something came full circle. Like maybe I wasn’t just the girl who watched something terrible happen anymore.”
Wyatt cupped my face gently, forcing me to meet his eyes. “You were never just that.”
I searched his face, looking for doubt or judgment. There was none.
“You saved that man because you’re brave,” he said. “Not because you owed the universe something.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t feel that simple.”
“It rarely is,” he agreed. “But it matters that you stepped forward.”
Tears slipped again, quieter now. “Beth and Natasha don’t know. No one knows. My mom wanted it buried so deep it couldn’t hurt us anymore.”
Wyatt’s jaw tightened. “That’s a hell of a thing to carry alone.”
“I didn’t know how to put it down.”
He pulled me back into his chest, holding me like something precious. “You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.”
I believed him.
I let myself.
We stood there for a long moment, the noise of the world fading again, his steady breathing anchoring me. When my tears finally slowed, when my chest stopped aching quite so sharply, I pulled back slightly.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, quieter now. “I didn’t mean to unload all of that on you.”
Wyatt shook his head immediately. “Don’t apologize.”
I studied his face. “You remember Jonesy.”
