“I’m sort of scared of being known.Reallyknown. Every time someone gets close, I feel this urge to run. Like I’d rather be alone than risk disappointing them when I’m not what they thought.”
His fingers toy with the edge of my blanket now. “Yeah, I know all about disappointing people. Women especially. I’m probably the worst person to be in a relationship with.”
I tilt my head to frown at him. “Why do you think that?”
“Just not built for it. Long-term shit. That’s why I never let anyone become too attached. I get so fucking restless. My family calls it wanderlust, because I always need to be in a different place, but it’snot about the travel.” He inhales again, sharp and ragged. “My mind never stops. There’s so much noise inside my head, like this storm that just won’t settle.”
I stay quiet, because I want him to keep going and I’m afraid if I speak, he’ll stop.
“I daydream a lot. I live in my own world, especially when I’m making music. That’s the only thing that lets me focus. Everything else feels fuzzy. Like I’m trying to catch smoke with my fingers. I…”
Wyatt pauses, and I can’t stop myself from pulling my hand out of my blanket cocoon and slipping it into his. I want him to feel something solid, to know that I’m not smoke. That this conversation isn’t smoke, and it’s not going to blow away.
He freezes for a second before relaxing, and my pulse speeds up when he links his fingers through mine.
“I think that’s why I can’t sleep. My brain refuses to shut off, and I lie there in the dark while all these ideas and worries and half-written songs crowd in. Sometimes it gets so loud, fucking deafening, and I don’t know how to quiet it. And when it happens…” His voice breaks. “I’m scared, I guess.”
“Scared?” My heart is beating even faster. Talk aboutdepth.I don’t think I’ve ever gotten this deep with anyone. “Scared of what?”
Wyatt falls silent, but just when I think he won’t answer, he speaks again. Voice low, stripped raw.
“That if I show someone all the dark parts, how messy and chaotic and fucked-up I really am, they won’t want me.”
I can’t conceive of a world where someone doesn’t want Wyatt Graham. He’s everything I’ve always been drawn to. That rare combination of strength and vulnerability.
“I don’t think you have to worry about that,” I say softly.
“I’m just saying, I hear you about not wanting to be seen.”
I rest my head against his shoulder, a tired smile tugging on my lips. “At least you have something to show people. I’ve got nothing.”
Wyatt stiffens. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m not extraordinary.” Embarrassment tickles my throat, and I have to choke it down. “I’m not an accomplished attorney like Jamie or drop-dead gorgeous like Alex, being paid millions of dollars to get my picture taken. I’m not a hockey prodigy like Gigi or a talented ballerina like Ivy. I don’t have any talent or something amazing about me that makes people look at me in awe.”
“You don’t actually believe that, do you?” He shifts so that he’s peering down at me with those deep green eyes. “That you’re not extraordinary?”
“I’m not. At least not compared to everyone else.”
“Never compare yourself to anyone,” he says. “It’s a surefire way to destroy your self-esteem. If I compared myself to other singers, I would’ve quit music years ago.”
He’s right. But it’s easier said than done.
Another silence descends, accompanied by another cool gust that floats over the dock. I feel bad being so cozy in my blanket burrito, so I quickly unwrap myself and spread the throw across both of us. Wyatt protests at first, then accepts his fate, and I can’t help but snuggle closer. I’m worried he’ll push me away, but he doesn’t.
“This is nice,” he finally says, so softly I can barely hear him.
“What is?”
“Talking under the stars.”
“Are you going to write a song about it?”
“Maybe.” I hear the smile in his voice.
“Will you tell me more about your brain and all the chaos in it?” I’m half joking but also desperate for more.
“Might take all night,” he says lightly.
