“You don’t get veto power,” Jesse says.
“He absolutely does,” I say at the same time Marshall says, “He doesn’t.”
We stare at each other.
Then all four of us laugh.
Jesse starts, naturally. “Fine. I’ll go first. Picture this: summer rodeo, age seventeen, I’m trying to impress a girl named?—”
“No,” Wyatt interrupts. “That story involves a fence, a goat, and a missing shirt. Hard pass.”
“You’re just jealous my teenage years were cinematic.”
“Your teenage years were a hazard,” Wyatt says.
Marshall clears his throat. “Fence was broken for a week.”
“And that,” Jesse declares proudly, “is legacy.”
Another laugh escapes me.
It feels good.
Like I’m waking up in a different part of myself that I forgot how to access.
By the time they drag out the battered deck of cards, my cheeks hurt from smiling, and my tea has gone lukewarm in my hands.
It’s been a long time since I laughed this much.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Wyatt
Wednesday
I don’t know when I actually fall asleep.
One second, I’m staring at the ceiling, listening to the soft creaks of the cabin and the tiny sleep sounds of other people through thin walls. The next, the edges blur, and I’m not in my bed anymore.
I’m in her yard.
The sky’s that soft purple that happens just after sunset, when the world hasn’t decided if it’s done with the day.
She’s standing a few feet away, almost naked, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes glinting.
“Wyatt,” she says softly.
I step toward her.
Or maybe she steps toward me.
It’s impossible to tell who moves first. The distance just disappears.
Her hand lifts, fingertips brushing my jaw, feather light but electric. My heart slams hard once against my ribs.
I can feel every nerve in my body tuning to her, reaching for her because she’s gravity, and I’m just a loose orbit finally falling.
“You’re always so steady,” she whispers. “Except right now.”
