"I don't need it," she said, but her voice shook just slightly. "I don't need you swooping in like some kind of saviour every time you decide I can't handle something."
"I never said you couldn't handle it."
"Then why are you here? Why do you keep showing up with feed and advice and that look on your face like you're waiting for me to fall apart so you can catch me?"
Because I want to catch you. Because the thought of you falling and me not being there makes me feel like my chest is being crushed. Because I'm so far past professional boundaries with you that I can't even see the line anymore.
"Because I give a damn," I said roughly. "Is that so terrible?"
"Yes.” The word burst out of her like it had been building. "Yes, it's terrible, because I can’t.” She stopped herself, breathing hard.
"Can't what?" I took a step closer without meaning to.
"I can't let myself need you," she said, and her voice had dropped to something raw. "I can't let myself depend on anyone right now. Don't you understand that?"
"I'm not asking you to depend on me."
"Yes, you are. Every time you show up here, every time you fix something I didn't ask you to fix, you're asking me to need you. And I can't. I won't."
We were standing close now, close enough that I could see the pulse jumping in her throat, close enough that her anger felt like heat against my skin.
"Why not?" I asked, and my voice came out lower than I'd intended.
"Because the last time I let myself need someone, they usedit against me." Her eyes were bright with fury and something that looked dangerously close to tears. "Because I just got out of a relationship where every kindness came with strings attached. Because I'm trying to rebuild my life on my own terms, and you keep, you keep…”
She broke off, her hands clenching into fists at her sides.
"I keep what?" I asked.
"You keep making me want things I can't afford to want right now."
The confession hung between us, raw and honest, and I felt something in my chest crack open.
"Tessa," I said, and I didn't know what I was going to say next because she was looking at me like that, and I could barely think straight.
"No," she said quickly. "Don't." But she hadn't moved away, and neither had I, and the air between us felt charged with everything we weren't saying.
"I'm trying to respect your boundaries," I said roughly. "But you make it damn hard when you look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you want me to cross them."
Her breath hitched, and I saw her pupils dilate slightly. "I don’t.”
"Yes, you do." I took another half-step closer, and my voice dropped even lower. "You want me to stop being careful. You want me to stop asking permission. But I won't. Not unless you tell me to."
"Wyatt,” she whispered.
"Tell me I'm wrong," I challenged. "Tell me you don't feel this thing between us, and I'll walk out of here right now and never bring you feed again."
She stared at me, her chest rising and falling too fast, and I watched her struggle with what to say.
"I can't," she finallywhispered.
"Can't tell me I'm wrong, or can't deal with me being right?"
"Both." The word came out broken. "I hate that you're right. I hate that I want…” She stopped herself again.
