“You.” Tipping my head back, I stare up at him. He’s tense. His lips bend into a frown, and the exhaustion in his eyes mirrors my own. “But…maybe we should sit? Or I could heat up some of the lasagna Cara brought over.”
Wyatt dips his head and kisses me for all I’m worth. My back hits the wall—gently—and I drape my arms around his neck. The man kisses with his entire being. With so much passion it borders on desperation.
“Bedroom,” he whispers against my cheek. “I want—I need—you naked.”
With a little jump, I wrap my legs around his hips, and he carries me down the hall and into our room.
Our room.
Even if it can only be ours for a week or a day or the next few hours, I’ll take it. I’ll take any time I can have with him.
He lays me out on the bed, then stares down at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. “You went shopping?” Fear lends an edge to his tone. “You left the building?”
“No!” I scramble back on the bed, pointing to the delivery boxes stacked neatly next to the closet. “We bought everything online. It was delivered. Cara went to pick up the boxes. Don’t be angry—”
His jaw drops open, and his expression shifts. Horror. Regret. Sorrow. Wyatt spins on his heel and rushes from the room. “Murph. Leash.” Thirty seconds later, the front door slams, and the two of them are gone.
Shit. He wasn’t mad. He was scared. And I drove him away.
My cell phone dings faintly. I left it on the coffee table—I think. Tears lend a shimmer to the world as I retrieve it to find a single message.
I’m sorry.
No word on when he’ll be back. No mention of where he’s going. Just an apology when he didn’t do anything wrong.
Cara uncorks a bottle of wine and pours two glasses. I cried for fifteen minutes after Wyatt left. Then called her. She and Wren are the only two people I know in this town—besides Ryker and West, and there’s no way in hell I’m talking to a man about what just happened.
“Have you texted him back?” she asks. We curl up on the love seat with a view of Puget Sound spread out before us. After a sip of wine, I shake my head.
“I don’t know what to say. He didn’t do anything wrong—”
“Hold on.” She sets her glass down and reaches for my free hand. “That’s not entirely true.”
“I’m the one who panicked. Who overreacted.”
Her eyes soften. “You don’t know me very well yet, but I was on the run when I met Ripper. Two JSOC agents—dirty ones—were trying to kill me. And Ripper was…” After a heavy sigh, she holds my gaze. “Most of it is his story to tell—one he’ll probably never share with you—but he was tortured for a long time. Physically, but even more so, mentally.”
My cheeks flame red hot, and I stare down at my knees. “West told us he was brainwashed until he didn’t remember who he was. Or…West told Wyatt. He still thought Ripper was dead.”
“Oh,” Cara says softly. “That…was probably for the best. He doesn’t talk about it with anyone but me and the guys.”
Regret raises a lump in my throat. “I’m sorry. I won’t tell him I know.”
“I will.” After she squeezes my fingers again, she sits back. “This family doesn’t keep secrets. We’ve all been burned by them.” Silence stretches between us until Cara shakes her head. “Sorry. That turned dark in a hurry, didn’t it?”
“A little. But my life has been pretty dark the past few years. I get the sense Wyatt’s has too. Even though he hasn’t told me much about what happened when he left the SEALs.”
“He will. When he’s ready. Like you’ll tell him more about what you went through. Trust takes time. Even when you love one another.”
Love? I choke on a sip of wine, barely keeping it from shooting out my nose.
“I can see it when you talk about him. Wren did too. And she can spot two people who should be together from a mile away. Or over a video call. It’s happened more than once the past couple of years.”
“Oh, that is a story I need to hear.” It feels good to laugh, despite how worried I am about Wyatt.
Cara sobers, her fingers fluttering around the stem of her wine glass. “You were triggered, Hope. Given what you went through, it will probably happen a lot. At least for a while. And Wyatt knows he’s the one who triggered you. So he’s going to feel guilty. That’s okay.”
“But…”
