Guess he is.
“I know,” I say.
“That’s not normal.”
“I mean, there’s nothing more normal than the sun coming up.”
He runs a hand through his hair. He’s jittery. “I need another cigarette.”
Before he can reach for the pack, I capture his hand and hold it in place, and I feel a rush of warmth when he stops fidgeting. He falls silent for several seconds. I see his Adam’s apple dip as he swallows.
“I wasn’t trying to protect you,” he says. “You were right—Iwasjealous. I wanted him to stop touching you.”
The warm sensation in my chest expands. “I know.”
“I hate that he had his hands on you. I hate that your hands were down his pants.”
“It didn’t get that far. Someone interrupted,” I remind him with a pointed look.
His lips curve slightly. “Yeah, and I don’t regret it.”
“Wait, so we’renotapologizing?” I say in amusement.
“We’re apologizing for interrupting you, acting like a jackass, and telling you that you don’t know what you want.” His smile becomes smug. “But we are not apologizing for being happy that his dick never made any contact with you.”
A laugh pops out. “Fine. That seems fair.”
He focuses on the moon again, and I follow his gaze. It’s so clear and bright, you could probably guide a boat across the water without requiring a headlight. Even still, the notion is daunting.
“I’d be too scared to take a boat out right now,” I confess.
He blinks at the change of subject. “What do you mean?”
“Darlie. She’d be sneaking out around this time to meet Raymond at the sex tree. But I think I’d be too scared. What if something happened? Like the boat hits a log and I fall overboard? What if Idrown without anyone knowing I was ever on the lake?”
“That’s grim.”
“I know.” I pause. “It must have been really good sex.”
Wyatt snorts. “I mean, there’s literally an iconic landmark in Lake Tahoe to honor their fucking.”
That makes me laugh, but the sound dies in my throat when I notice his serious eyes. I suddenly feel self-conscious.
“Your ex is an idiot, Blake. And he’s a manipulative bastard.”
“What?” I say in surprise.
“He cheated because he wanted to cheat. Because he wanted to get laid. Because he wanted the excitement and the thrill, and now he’s twisting it around to make it look like you’re the reason he did it. But you’re not. It’s always been him. You don’t need some bar hookup to feel desirable.”
“Again, telling me what I need,” I murmur.
“I’m not doing it in a judgmental or possessive way. I promise. I’m just saying if Isaac doesn’t see it, then he’s a moron.”
My pulse quickens. “See what?”
“You,” Wyatt says simply, and that sends my heartbeat into overdrive.
I know I should still be mad at him for the overbearing way he behaved. But something about the raw note in his voice makes it impossible to stay angry.
