“What are we doing, Wyatt?” I whispered. “Because I don’t feel like this is just friendship anymore.”
“It isn’t,” he said instantly, shaking his head. “It’s just … complicated.”
I searched his face for reassurance. For desire. For certainty.
I found care. Concern. Control.
I leaned in again, kissed him once more, slower this time, and felt his body respond before his mind shut it down. The heat was there. The want. The connection.
Then he gently took my wrists and lowered my hands.
That small gesture shattered me more than anything else could have.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“So, you don’t see me like that,” I said.
He closed his eyes briefly. “That’s not what this is.”
“Then what is it?” I asked. “Because it feels like I crossed a line you never invited me to approach.”
I stepped back.
Shame crept in. Hot and unwelcome. For trying. For wanting. For being bold when maybe he only wanted safe.
I wrapped my arms around myself. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No,” he said quickly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
It didn’t feel that way.
I thought of the kiss at Dusty’s. The way it had felt like promise. Like safety. Like permission.
Now, it felt like I had misunderstood the language entirely.
“I need to go,” I said softly.
He reached for me. Stopped himself.
“Please, don’t leave like this.”
“I don’t know how else to leave,” I replied.
I grabbed my bag, heart aching in that quiet, humiliating way that came from hoping too much. From believing too deeply. From letting myself think I was wanted in the same way I wanted him.
At the door, I paused. “I’m sorry if I made things awkward. Or rushed something that wasn’t there.”
“Sophie,” he said, his voice rough. “You didn’t.”
I nodded, even though I didn’t believe him.
And I walked out.
The cab ride back to The Palmetto Rose was a blur of city streets and watery reflections. I stared out the window, replaying everything. The bridge. The nap. The kiss. The way his hands had stopped mine.
Maybe he only saw me as someone to protect. Someone fragile. Someone whose pain made romance feel inappropriate.
