Page 63 of Saving Wyatt

I didn’t even know what that was. There was always war in my head. Probably a side effect from being in actual wars. Which made me all the more pathetic for being worried about silly, infantile things like love.

“Start with someone. One person can sometimes be enough.”

I looked at him and blinked. “I came out to you.”

Dare groaned. “I don’t count, you idiot. I’ve been inside you. Of course I knew. Start with a person you have no interest in fucking.”

I choked back a laugh. “Fine.”

“So you’ll do it?” he asked.

“Maybe.” I shrugged.

Probably not.

Was there even a point when I had no interest in pursuing anything with anyone?

Ari and his beautiful smile flashed before my eyes, but I bit my lip, bit my tongue, bit my heart, and cast him out of my mind.

Yeah, right. Who do I think I’m fooling?

Maybe if I talked to him, maybe if I told him what he did—what he made me do—was wrong, it would help.

Yeah.

That sounded like a plan. A plan so I could go back to worrying about real life.

TWENTY-TWO

ARI

“I’ll take a shower. I feel…yuck,” Warren said as soon as we got home after work that same day, and he started undressing before he even got to the bathroom.

I couldn’t blame him. Our last patient had been a puker and poor Warren had caught all of it. I felt bad for the guy, but then again, karma was a bitch. That was what happened to people that refused to tell their friends what they were up to at night.

As he closed the door and I retreated to my room, the previous night flashed before my eyes, and I remembered—again—that I had also not been honest.

“Can’t wait to see what karma has in store for me,” I mumbled and changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

He still hadn’t given a sign of life. Wyatt. I didn’t even care that he’d walked out on me. I’d slept with my fair share of men who couldn’t stand the thought of what they’d done under the guise of the night. Wyatt didn’t strike me as one of them. He was different. I could feel it. Even if he’d walked out, I knew he wasn’t like the rest of them. Scared and afraid of himself, yeah, maybe. But an asshole? He wasn’t. I just needed to know he was okay.

Before I returned to the living room, I checked my messages, but he hadn’t replied so I opted to scroll through the takeout delivery app and find dinner instead.

He couldn’t avoid me forever, after all. We lived on the same island. Hell, we lived in the same apartment.

Two seconds after I placed an order from the local Indian restaurant, the door opened and Wyatt came in.

“Hey.” I stared at him and put my phone blindly down on the coffee table as he pressed his lips together, looked at the floor, and approached me.

“Hi,” he mumbled. “Can we…can we talk?”

I patted the space next to me and nodded. He sat across the table on the armchair opposite me instead.

It was fine. He didn’t need to sit next to me. Especially with his brother in the next room over. It was probably best—safer, even—for him to sit across from me. Even if my chest tightened at the sight of him all the way on the other side of the living room.

“What’s up?” I asked. “Are you okay?”

Wyatt leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and huffed. “I…” he started. “Last night…”