“I know.”
I exhaled, shaky. “I’m scared that if I go back, I’ll fail. And I’m scared that if I don’t go back, I’ll hate myself forever.”
Wyatt’s voice was quiet. “You won’t fail because you don’t know everything on day one. You only fail if you stop showing up.”
The words landed deep, not like a pep talk, but like a truth that didn’t care if I was ready.
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
Wyatt’s gaze stayed steady. “Do you want to drive with me? I can send the guys back to get Ray’s truck.”
“No,” I said quickly, and the firmness surprised me. “I need to drive.”
Wyatt nodded. “Okay.”
“And you’re going in your truck,” I added, because the thought of being trapped in someone else’s space still made my skin crawl.
Wyatt didn’t blink. “Okay.”
I stared at him, my chest aching with the simplicity of his acceptance.
“Why are you being so agreeable?” I asked, and it came out almost angry, because part of me was still waiting for the trap.
Wyatt’s mouth twitched faintly. “Because you’re not asking for anything unreasonable. You’re asking for control. You’re telling me you need space and you want your life to stay yours.”
My eyes burned. For a second, the apartment felt too small for what was sitting between us, for everything unsaid. The air seemed thicker. Warmer. My skin was too aware of itself, of my pulse, of the way my body kept remembering his arms around me in the dark, the way it had felt to be held without being owned.
I forced a breath in, slow and shaky.
“I need to pack,” I said.
Wyatt nodded. “Okay, I can wait outside. Or I can wait in the truck. Whatever feels better.”
My chest tightened again, hot and strange.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I admitted, and the honesty startled me because it wasn’t about safety anymore. It was about the quiet inside me that started to recognize his presence as something steady.
Wyatt’s eyes darkened, just a fraction, like the words hit him somewhere tender.
“I won’t,” he said.
I swallowed hard. “But I also don’t want you hovering.”
Wyatt nodded, like that wasn’t a contradiction, like he understood the line I was trying to walk.
“I can be nearby without being on top of you,” he said quietly.
“Okay,” I whispered.
Wyatt’s gaze softened. “Okay.”
I went into my room, the small space that had once been mine and now felt like borrowed air, and I started packing on autopilot.
My hands shook as I folded. My stomach churned, empty and unsettled. Every few seconds, my mind flashed with images I didn’t ask for. The cabin door. Colin’s voice. Wyatt’s arms. The crunch of gravel. Holt’s shadow moving in the dark.
I breathed through it.
In for four.
