Her breath hitched, just a little.
Tessa’s fingers tightened on the edge of the door. “I asked you to stop coming around.”
“I know. And I tried.”
Her eyes narrowed, hurt and anger flickering. “No, you didn’t.”
I nodded once, accepting it. “No. I didn’t.”
The admission hung between us, heavy and honest.
Tessa’s throat worked as she swallowed. “You’re angry.”
“Yes,” I said, because lying would only make it worse. “I’m angry.”
Her shoulders rose, defensive. “Then yell at me and get it over with.”
My jaw tightened. I forced my voice to stay low. “That’s not why I came.”
Her eyes searched my face, suspicious.
I took a slow breath. “You didn’t say goodbye. I’ve been trying to convince myself you did it because you needed space. But the truth is, Tess, it scared the hell out of me.”
The words landed in the small space between us like something fragile.
Tessa’s expression cracked, just for a second. Her mouth trembled, and she bit down hard, like she refused to let it show.
“I didn’t mean to,” she whispered.
“I don’t care,” I said, and my voice roughened. I softened it immediately. “Meaning to doesn’t matter. You were gone.”
Her eyes shone, and her breathing went shallow.
“I didn’t know how to stay,” she said, barely audible. “I didn’t know how to keep breathing there.”
My chest tightened, sharp and hot. “You could’ve told me.”
Her laugh was small and broken. “Why? So you could talk me out of it.”
I held her gaze. “So you wouldn’t have to carry it alone. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
Tessa’s shoulders sagged a fraction, like the fight drained out of her in a slow leak.
“You signed the letter of offer,” I said quietly.
“I thought if you had the land, then maybe Ray wouldn’t totally cease to exist.” She kept her gaze locked on the floor, but I could see the tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Tessa,” I said, voice low. “Look at me.”
Her eyes locked on mine, furious and wet.
“I’m not here to take anything from you,” I said. “I’m herebecause I can’t watch you burn your life down out of grief and fear.”
Tessa’s breath came shaky. She pressed her forehead lightly to the doorframe for a second, eyes squeezed shut, like she was trying to hold herself together with wood and willpower.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I can’t do the ranch, Wyatt. I can’t do the debt. I can’t do the valley watching me fail. I can’t deal with you looking at me like you think I can. I’m tired.”
The last word broke. My chest hurt so badly it felt like my ribs were being pried apart. “I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m here.”
