“I care about him,” she whispers.
“I know.”
“And I care about Wyatt, too.”
“I know that as well.”
Her eyes shine. “And you.”
I inhale slowly through my nose. Let it out just as slow.
“I didn’t say this would be easy,” I say. “Just necessary.”
She looks down at her hands. At the faint smear of honey on her thumb. She rubs it away on her apron, a small, nervous motion that tells me everything I need to know about how overwhelmed she is.
She’s going to say no.
She’ll retreat. She’ll choose the safety of silence and avoidance, and I’ll have to accept it.
Then she lifts her head. “When?”
“Tonight,” I say. “If you can.”
Her eyes widen again. “Tonight?”
She glances at her stall, mentally tallying inventory, responsibilities, excuses. I can almost hear the list forming.
Finally, she nods.
“Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll come.”
I didn’t realize how tight my chest was until it loosens.
“Okay,” I echo.
I nod once and walk away, letting the market noise swallow me again.
As I move through the crowd, past stalls and music and laughter, the tension doesn’t ease. If anything, it coils tighter.
Tonight isn’t going to fix everything.
But it might finally bring the truth into the open.
And sometimes, that’s the only way forward.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Abilene
Saturday
I almost don’t go.
I stand in my bedroom for a full ten minutes, staring at my reflection like she might offer advice if I glare hard enough. She doesn’t.
She just looks back at me with wide eyes and too-pink cheeks and the unmistakable expression of a woman walking willingly into something she doesn’t know how to control.
I told Marshall yes because it felt like the responsible choice.
