Wyatt’s jaw tightens, revealing more than he knows. But he doesn’t deny it.
Instead, he sighs. “No. I wasn’t.”
Sensing there might be more to his answer, I wait, allowing him to continue.
Then, he pulls in a breath, as if bracing himself for the memories. “After our parents died, it was just my sister and me. By then, I was barely scraping by with odd jobs, doing cash work wherever I could. Anything that kept her fed and put a roof over our heads.”
Blinking back at him, the admittance surprises me. I murmur quietly, “How old were you?”
“Old enough to be on my own with a successful career until it fell apart just as I became her guardian, but too young for that kind of pressure.”
His answer is simple, but the weight behind it is anything but.
“She was scared and trying to get through high school. She was angry, hurt, and I didn’t have the luxury of falling apart, even when I wanted to,” Wyatt adds, allowing the distant look in his eyes to betray his sincerity.
The image fills my mind immediately. Wyatt, young and trying to figure life out for himself, suddenly finds himself carrying a responsibility far too big for his shoulders. It’s hard to picture the man beside me, one who is always so calm and confident, as being in any kind of financial trouble.
“When I was desperate enough to start running for the Balakins, I promised myself I’d never forget what it felt like to reach that point. I was prepared to do anything, even when it all blew up in my face,” he murmurs, grip on the wheel tightening a bit while he focuses on the road ahead. “I was terrified, but her comfort mattered more than mine.”
A thoughtful silence lingers between us, and something moves in me.
He doesn’t owe me any of this information, and he gains nothing by sharing it. That’s how I know he’s telling me because he wants to.
Staring at him, I feel my heart break at the prospect of him putting his needs beneath his sister’s. Especially when it reminds me of something my brothers would do for me without question.
“Wyatt…”
As if forcing it away, he shakes his head slightly and adjusts his grip again. “It’s fine. You don’t need to make this into anything.”
“I’m not,” I say quietly, suddenly not wanting to make matters worse. “I just didn’t expect this.”
“That seems to be a pattern.”
Before I can stop myself, I huff a laugh, only to go quiet again as I watch him from my peripheral vision. The city lights stream in, softening his features more than they have any right to.
Try as I might to keep seeing him as the same man with rough edges and nothing to lose, it’s getting harder and harder to do exactly that. He isn’t heartless. He isn’t aggressive. He goes out of his way to do kind things, even when others wouldn’t waste their time.
He isn’t who I thought he was, and it’s shaking my resolve more and more.
When we get back to the condo, Wyatt takes some of the bags from my hand without asking, and his fingers brush againstmine briefly. It lingers long enough to feel intentional, and as I meet his gaze, my pulse stammers.
Even if I should, I don’t pull away.
Looking up at his infuriatingly perfect features, I internally remind myself that this doesn’t change anything. Not the marriage, not the danger, and not the fact that my brothers will come for him eventually.
Still, that reminder doesn’t hit as hard as it should.
Chapter 13 - Wyatt
Things have been going suspiciously well lately, but in this business, that only lasts for so long before something else creeps up.
And the call delivering the news comes too late at night to be anything other than an inconvenience.
My phone vibrates on the counter while I’m rinsing a glass, and the sound cuts through the quiet space sharply enough to jolt me. The low murmur of the television playing in the other room reaches me, and it’s surprisingly domestic, especially while knowing Elena’s in there, keeping herself busy.
Drying my hands off, I pick it up before I can let it go on for too long, glancing at the screen briefly before placing it against my ear.
“Patch.”
