It means he’s taking it seriously.
“Wyatt,” I whisper, desperate now, “I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t. I’ve never… I’ve never had this kind of attention. Not like… not like this. Not from you. Not from Jesse.”
Wyatt’s eyes soften.
That softness is going to destroy me.
“I’m not here to add pressure,” he says gently. “I just… wanted to try. And if you’re seeing Jesse, then you’re seeing Jesse.”
“I like you,” I blurt.
Wyatt’s brows lift slightly.
“I do,” I insist, trembling. “I like you so much. You’re… good. And you’re steady. And you make me feel safe. And I…”
I swallow hard.
“And I don’t think I can do this right now,” I finish miserably.
Wyatt holds my gaze. For a long second, he doesn’t say anything.
Then he nods once, a small, controlled movement.
“Okay,” he says again, and the word is still calm, but now it has more under it.
My throat tightens so hard I feel like I might cry.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
Wyatt’s mouth twitches, faintly.
“You don’t have to apologize for being honest.”
I stare at him. That’s too mature. Too kind.
That’s not fair.
He glances at the bag on the table. “You can still keep those.”
“I…” I blink fast. “Wyatt, you don’t…”
“I want you to,” he says quietly. “They’re for you. Not for conditions.”
That makes my chest ache so sharply I have to press my hand against it.
Wyatt steps back toward the door, slow and careful, like he doesn’t want his movement to startle me.
“Thank you for… hearing me,” he says.
I shake my head helplessly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He nods once more. “Neither did you.”
Then he reaches for the doorknob.
I take a step forward without thinking. “Wyatt…”
He pauses, looking back.
