Jeanine was telling me how Ray once fixed her fence for free. Todd was recounting a story from eight years ago that I wasn’t even here for. Marla reorganized my entire spice cabinet in under two minutes.
The house felt crowded with strangers, ghosts, pity, and grief that wasn’t theirs to share. I needed out.
Now.
I wove through the crowd, ignoring the “sweethearts” and “poor things” and “we’re all here for you” voices clinging to me like static. The back door was ten feet away. Ten feet to freedom.
I grabbed the doorknob, but it clicked before I could turn it. The door swung inward, and Wyatt filled the frame. Cowboy hat low. Shoulders squared. Eyes sharp. But something in his face shifted when he saw the cluster of people behind me. A tightening of the jaw. A narrowing of his gaze. AsilentWhat in the hell?I thought to myself as his gaze flicked down to me.
His eyes scanned my face, quick but thorough, taking in my pinched expression, my too-tight posture, the exhaustion hanging off me like a second skin. For a beat, we just stood there in the doorway. Close enough for the air between us to hum, close enough to feel the tension radiating off both our bodies.
Behind me, I could hear Jeanine gearing up for another condolence monologue. Wyatt’s eyes flicked toward the sound. His jaw flexed once. Then he stepped inside.
A large, warm palm wrapped around my elbow, gentle but firm, and he pulled me to his side with a movement so smooth it stole my breath.
I should have yanked away or slapped his hand off me. I should have done anything except I didn’t, I let him shift me to stand next to him.
And for the first time since the crowd arrived, I felt the faintest sense of air reaching my lungs.
The kitchen went quiet in stages, and voices petered out. People finally realized that something shifted.
Then Marla spoke, blinking rapidly. “Oh! Wyatt, dear, we didn’t realize you were?—”
“We’re done here,” Wyatt said, his tone wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t loud. But it carried across the kitchen. He released my elbow and stepped forward slightly, shoulders set like he’d just taken control of a barn full of wayward cattle.
“Folks,” he said, nodding respectfully to the group, “I know you mean well. And Tess appreciates your concern.”
I blinked. He’d called me Tess, and he said it without hesitation, as if he belonged here.
My stomach did a weird, traitorous flip.
“But this isn’t helping her,” he continued. “This house is full. And she needs a little space.”
Todd cleared his throat. “We were just dropping food off.”
“And you did,” Wyatt said, calm but immovable. “Thank you, all of you. But it’s time to give her some breathing room.”
Jeanine’s lips pursed. “We didn’t mean to overwhelm her.” Everyone was talking as if I wasn’t even in the room.
“You didn’t,” Wyatt said. “But you all need to head out now.”
A murmur rippled through the group. Offended. Confused. Uncertain who he thought he was. My heart pounded in my chest. I was supposed to tell him to back off, tell him he didn’t get to speak for me.
But I didn’t.
The truth settled like a stone in my chest. I wanted them out. And I didn’t have the strength to do it alone.
Wyatt’s presence filled the room, not loud, not aggressive. Just steady. Anchored. Like the only solid thing in a storm.
Marla stepped closer, frowning. “Well, if she needs anything, we’re right up the road.”
Wyatt’s gaze flicked to me, asking without asking.
I nodded once.
He turned back to Marla. “She knows.”
That was enough.
