“The problem I have is not my refusal to abuse Tylee.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Wyatt corrects me with an impatient tone as if he really had been abundantly clear. “Anna would never put me in the position to choose between violence and kindness.”
“Strong men can’t be pushed to hurt women.”
Wyatt glares at me as if he truly thinks of me as pig-headed and incapable of understanding the world. I’m too old to face Wyatt’s condescension, although I can understand why the predicament I’m in doesn’t exactly cause him to trust me.
“It’s not about that, Isaac. She’s never been good for you.”
“She’s your sister.”
“This world raised her. Women aren’t like us. They have different tools to survive. The ones Tylee felt she needed were cunning and manipulation.”
“She never needed that. She always had me to protect her.”
“I don’t know why she never felt that,” Wyatt says. It’s hard for me not to feel like he’s blaming me. Like I didn’t do enough for her. Pained silence hangs between us as I wrestle the childish urge to turn this into a major fight. Wyatt wants to help. He wants to get my kids back. I have to keep sight of that. He’s right, too.
I can’t go back to Tylee. For the first time in my life, I don’t want to. I’ll do the single dad thing if I must… But I can’t be with her anymore. I could tolerate her hurting me in the past, but I can’t stand watching her do this to the kids. I just can’t.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Janelle
Boston, MA
Iwake up to the smell of fresh espresso. Yum. I think it’s a part of my dream at first, then I feel the soft fluttering of butterfly wings against my cheek. Not butterfly wings…
“Wake up, angel.”
Zeb.He left last night to handle some club business and I promised him that I wouldn’t fall asleep before he got back.Ugh.Considering the last thing I remember was testing myself on anatomy flashcards, I missed staying up. And he still surprised me with a full mug of coffee.
“I’m awake.”
“Hm,” he whispers. “Good. I’ve been up all night waiting for you.”
“Are you serious?”
“I slept for two hours. Come on… I made breakfast too.”
He wasnotjoking about breakfast. Zeb eats about as much as a horse every single day. There are sausages, fried eggs, bagels,home fries, various sauces for the home fries, pico de gallo, and bacon. Breakfast is not a game in Zebulon’s household.
“Eat up, Mrs. Blackwood.”
I feel like I’m living in a dream. I never knew relationships could be like this until Zeb and I moved to our new place in Boston. We have been officially married for two weeks. I thought I would get scared and want to run again, but I just want to make a home with him.
For the first time in my life, I don’t have to work. My LPN-to-RN program starts in two months and Zeb suggested that I take the time off to get settled into our new place. He doesn’t really let me say no and he points out that he’s not making me quit my job forever, he just understands that all of our travel and marriage might be exhausting. It’s like he’s so in tune with my feelings that I don’t have to explain them. He just understands what to do for me before I even tell him.
It’s incredible to feel seen like this.
“Why did you stay up all night?”
“I missed you. That’s why,” Zeb says. “What did you get up to yesterday?”
“Nothing worth losing sleep over.”
Zeb comes over and kisses the top of my forehead. “That’s because you don’t know how much I miss you when you’re away from me.”
My heart does a little flip again. I hug Zeb back.
