Page 48 of Saving Wyatt

I could feel it in the back of my neck when I walked out. I could feel my hairs stand to attention. I didn’t know if he would keep his word, but I knew now more than ever I had to find a way to bring him down. Once and for all.

SEVENTEEN

WYATT

It was a long ride home. Long enough for me to lose all the nerve I'd gathered, all the tension that had built up in my body, leaving me wrecked and broken.

Because no matter what had been said, what had been agreed, what was yet to be done, a life had been lost.

Perhaps the first of many. I couldn't live with myself if he hurt another innocent soul. Another person I loved.

But I also couldn't let him run loose, building his criminal empire on the ashes of Mayberry Holm.

He'd caused so much pain. So much anguish. So much fear. He had to be stopped.

"Are you okay?" someone said behind me. I jumped.

I turned to find Ari standing in front of his bedroom door watching me with narrowed eyes and pressed lips.

"Oh," I croaked and cleared my throat. "I'm sorry. I thought... I thought I was alone."

I sat up a little straighter on the couch and wiped my wet eyes before I looked at him again.

"I can go if you want," he said.

I shook my head as I realized he was now standing right behind me, leaning against the back of the sofa.

"No, you can't. This is your home," I said.

"It's yours too." He reached for my shoulder with his strong hand and squeezed, the warmth and pressure soothing a little of the chaos swirling inside me. "How are you feeling?"

I let out a long sigh and stared at the table in front of me. "How should I feel? Like I should be locked up behind bars."

Ari was sitting beside me within seconds, his hand moving from my shoulder to my knee, completely oblivious to the fire he lit inside my body with that simple move.

"Why? You did nothing wrong," he whispered.

I smiled at him and shook my head. "You're too kind to me. This is all my fault. This has been a chain reaction too long in the making. Someone was bound to get hurt. I should have done something—anything—sooner." I focused on the hand because his eyes were a whole other blaze I couldn't handle. Not right now. Not this close. "That's not what was supposed to happen when I set up this operation. It wasn't supposed to get this complicated. I clearly have lost my freaking mind in my old age."

"Hey!" He slapped my knee, and he readjusted his seat next to me so he was facing me, one bent leg pressed against my thigh, and even though he was now using both his hands to hold his leg, I still felt his knuckles on my side. "Stop being so harsh on yourself. You're neither stupid nor old."

I scoffed. "I'm definitely older than you," I said and had no idea why. What did that have to do with anything?

"Yeah. Older. Emphasis on -er."

"Pfft, semantics," I mumbled, and he chuckled.

"Semantics are important. Especially if they're the difference between defeated and determined."

I stared at him for a moment trying to understand what he was talking about, but that was a mistake. I realized too late. Because he stared back at me, inches away and more irresistible than ever. More unavoidable than ever.

"You disagree?" he whispered.

"Huh?"

He was far too close to concentrate.

"I'm just saying," he said, "I don't think this is the time to second-guess everything, to blame yourself, to tuck your tail between your legs and run. He just killed someone. He did. His choices did that. No one forced him. No one made him go after an innocent old man instead of going after you or your team. He did. He killed Mr. Rogers. Instead of sitting here wallowing and blaming the wrong person, you should be out there trying to find the way to put an end to him before he kills or destroys again."