“Tessa,” I said, ignoring her. “Sit down.”
She bristled immediately. I watched it roll through her, an instinctive push back against being told what to do. Under other circumstances, it might have amused me. Tonight it simply got in the way.
“Don’t tell me to sit,” she said, voice cracking. “You show up at my door in the middle of the night, and you expect me to just do what you say? Who even are you?”
I held her gaze. “Again, my name is Wyatt Hargrove. I live in River’s Edge, your Uncle Ray is my neighbor. I am here because he can’t be.”
Her lips parted. Color rushed into her face, then drained just as fast. Dani made a small, wounded sound, sank down onto the arm of the couch, and hugged the pillow to her chest.
The moment stretched. I could feel Tessa struggling under the weight of it, trying to force the pieces into a shape that was not as obvious as it was.
“Say it,” she whispered. “Don’t make me ask.”
There were a dozen ways people tried to soften this kind ofblow. I heard most of them. I did not use any. “Your uncle died yesterday afternoon,” I said.
For a few seconds, nothing moved. The air felt thick, like the walls had crept closer. Then the meaning hit her all at once. Her knees buckled, and she reached blindly for the nearest surface. The edge of a stool caught the backs of her legs, and she folded onto it like someone cut her strings.
Dani slid off the couch and went to her, arms wrapping around her shoulders. She turned her face toward me with a glare that could have flayed a weaker man.
“What happened?” she demanded.
“His heart, I’m guessing,” I said. “I found him when I went to let him know I’d fixed his fence.”
Tessa stared at me like she was looking at a stranger speaking a language she didn’t understand. Her eyes were too bright, glassy and wide, as if they were trying to hold back water that had already broken through.
“If this is some sort of sick joke, I swear to God I will…” Her voice broke. The last words never made it out.
“It isn’t a joke,” I said. There was no point trying to sugarcoat anything. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours, and decided to come in person.”
She sucked in a breath that shook. Dani tightened her hold and shot me another look, full of accusation. As if delivering the news made me responsible for the death. That was fine; people needed something to aim at. I had broad shoulders.
I stayed where I was, my hat still in my hand. The brim dug into my palm, and I focused on the pressure and not on the way Tessa’s grief cut through the room. I had seen this before, more times than I cared to remember. Parents, siblings, friends. The first moment when reality slammed down, and they realized the world changed, and nobody asked their permission.
“I have to go,” she said. “I have to get home. I shouldn’thave left; he needed me. I should’ve been there.” She pushed off the stool too fast. Her legs wobbled. The room tilted for her. She staggered sideways toward the counter, reaching for balance.
I moved without thinking about it. My hand closed around her upper arm before she could hit the floor. Even through the thin cotton of her shirt, her skin was hot. Her muscles tensed beneath my fingers, electricity jolted through my hand. Annoying. Unwanted. I let go as soon as she was steady.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped.
“You can barely stand on your own,” I said.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, although her voice slurred on the last word, and she had to curl her fingers into the counter behind her to stay upright. “I can pack a bag. I can call for a ride. I can get a flight. I can…”
“You’re not going anywhere tonight,” I said. Her eyes snapped to mine. There was fire there now, banked under the grief. The kind that burned and didn’t know what to do with itself.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she said. “You don’t know me.”
“I know you’ve had too much to drink,” I said as I glanced over at the coffee table. “I can smell it from here, and I know you nearly fell on your face twice in the last ten seconds. And I know you would be a danger to yourself and anyone unlucky enough to share a road with you if you went anywhere right now.”
“We can call a cab,” Dani said from the stool, voice small but stubborn.
“You’re not putting her in a car tonight either,” I told her, not taking my eyes off Tessa. “You want her home in one piece, you wait until morning.”
“You can’t force me to stay here,” Tessa said. Her handsclenched into fists at her sides. She was shaking, whether from anger or shock, I wasn’t sure. “You’re not my father, you’re not family, you’re some ranch hand my uncle hired.”
The corner of my mouth moved, but it was not a smile. “I’m the neighbor, not a ranch hand.”
“Then get out of my way.” She took a step toward me, chin lifted. The room was small enough that there was not much space to close before she was right in front of me. She had to tilt her head back to meet my eyes. Her pupils were still too large, breath still smelled like tequila and lime and something sweet. Her t-shirt hung off one shoulder, exposing the soft curve of her collarbone.
