Slowly, grumbling, fussing, patting my arm too many times, people began drifting out, gathering their purses, their jackets, their condolences.
Todd placed a hand on my shoulder. “Call if you need an extra set of hands. Your uncle was a good man. You think about what you need. Don’t let anyone rush you.” His eyes cut pointedly to Wyatt.
“I will,” I whispered, not trusting my voice to say more. Then he left, and Wyatt closed the door behind him. The house went still.
Wyatt exhaled. He glanced at the mountain of casseroles covering every surface. “They know how to feed a person.”
I stared at him, but he didn’t smile. Not really. But something warm flickered in the corner of his mouth.
I swallowed. My throat felt raw. “You didn’t have to do that,” I said quietly.
He shrugged lightly. “Seemed like you needed it.”
“I could’ve handled it.”
“No,” he said, gentle but honest. “You couldn’t.” He took a step closer, but not too close. Just near enough, I could feel the warmth coming off him. “Tess—” he began.
“Don’t,” I said, too quickly. “Don’t call me that.”
His jaw twitched. “Alright.”
Silence stretched between us. Not hostile. Not warm either. Just charged.
He gestured toward the table. “You should sit.”
“I’ve been sitting.”
“You should sit again.”
My chest clenched. “Stop telling me what to do.”
“Then sit because you want to. You’re about to fall over.”
I sank into the chair while Wyatt stayed standing. Solid. Unmoving. Hands braced against the back of the chair across from me, shoulders broad enough to block out half the kitchen light.
“You don’t have to be strong every second,” he said quietly.
My throat closed around the denial.
He watched me, not pitying, not pushing. Just watching. Like he was sorting through a dozen things he wanted to say but was waiting to see which ones wouldn’t break me.
“You should eat something,” he murmured.
I huffed. “You sound like Dani.”
“I’ve been compared to worse.” Wyatt shifted, leaning one hip against the counter. “They’ll come back,” he said. “The town. That’s what they do, they care. Too much sometimes.”
“I noticed.”
“But it’ll slow down. You’ll get your space.”
Outside, cattle bellowed in the distance. A raven cawed from the roof. The house creaked as it warmed under the rising sun.
“Thank you,” I said, barely audible.
He nodded once. “You’re welcome. I’ll check the fences.”
My voice trembled. “Do whatever you want.”
