Chapter 7 #2
Wyatt stared after them for a moment, then looked back at me, something like awe softening his expression.
“You always were like that,” he said.
“Like what?”
“Stepping in. Doing the hard thing.”
I felt heat creep up my neck. “I didn’t think. I just reacted.”
He smiled. “Sometimes that’s the best kind of courage.”
For a beat, we just stood there, the space between us charged with old memories and new awareness.
“So,” he said finally, breaking the moment gently. “How long are you in Charleston?”
I hesitated, then answered honestly. “The rest of the week.”
“Good.”
Wyatt’s gaze lingered on me in a way that made the dock feel suddenly smaller.
Not uncomfortable. Not invasive.
Just … attentive.
The kind of looking that said he was really seeing me—not the idea of me he’d carried around for years, not the girl I’d been—but the woman standing in front of him now, in heels on a Charleston pier with salt in her hair and adrenaline still humming under her skin.
“So,” he said again, softer this time, like he didn’t want to break whatever fragile thing had settled between us. “The week.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Then back to Austin.”
“Still Austin,” he said, like he was tasting it. “You always said you’d end up there.”
I laughed quietly. “I say a lot of things.”
“That’s fair.”
We fell into a companionable silence, watching the water move.
The dinner cruise boat had already pulled away again, its lights drifting farther out into the harbor, music floating faintly back to shore.
The crowd around us thinned as people dispersed into the city, the dock slowly returning to something calmer, more intimate.
I became acutely aware of Wyatt’s presence beside me. The heat of his body. The subtle way his arm hovered just far enough away to be respectful, but close enough that I could feel it, if I shifted.
It struck me then—how easy it felt. How natural. Like no time had passed at all, even though everything about us had changed.
Beth cleared her throat loudly from a few feet away.
“Well,” she announced, arms crossed, eyes bright with interest. “Are we all pretending this is a normal coincidence, or are we acknowledging that the universe is absolutely unhinged?”
Natasha smiled politely, but her eyes were sharp, cataloging everything. “I have questions.”
I groaned. “Please don’t interrogate him.”
Wyatt chuckled. “It’s okay. I probably deserve it.”
Beth arched a brow. “You disappeared on her.”
“I know,” he said evenly. “And I’m sorry.”
Natasha studied him for a moment longer, then nodded once, like she’d reached a preliminary conclusion. “All right.”
Beth leaned closer to me, stage-whispering. “He’s charming.”
I rolled my eyes, but my pulse betrayed me.
“Are you headed somewhere?” Wyatt asked.
“We were,” I said. “But … not urgently.”
He hesitated, then said, “I just got into town. I was actually going to grab a drink. Nothing fancy.”
Beth perked up immediately. “We love unfancy.”
Natasha gave me a look. The kind that said: your call.
I took a breath, surprised by how much I wanted to say yes.
“There’s a place just around the corner,” I said. “Low-key. We were going to walk.”
Wyatt smiled. “Lead the way.”
We set off together, the four of us falling into an easy rhythm. Wyatt walked on my outside, instinctively shielding me from passing pedestrians, his hand briefly brushing my back as we navigated a tight corner.
The touch sent a small shock through me.
I told myself it was just surprise. Nostalgia. Residual adrenaline.
I didn’t consider it further. Not yet.
The bar was tucked into a narrow street, warm light spilling out onto the sidewalk, jazz humming softly from inside. We claimed a small table near the back, the atmosphere relaxed and intimate without trying too hard.
Drinks were ordered. Glasses clinked.
Beth kicked off her heels with a sigh. “I don’t know how you survived growing up together without this turning into something dramatic.”
Wyatt laughed. “Trust me, it was dramatic.”
I shot him a look. “It was not.”
“Oh, it was,” he said, amused. “You just didn’t know it.”
My stomach flipped.
Natasha leaned back in her chair. “Okay. Childhood best friends. Years apart. Reunite in a different city. One of you saves a life in public.”
Beth nodded. “I’m invested.”
Wyatt’s eyes flicked back to me. “You saved a life.”
I winced. “You’re not going to let that go, are you?”
“No,” he said simply. “I’m not.”
There was something in his tone—quiet pride, maybe—that made my chest ache in an unexpected way.
“I didn’t even want to do it,” I admitted. “I was terrified.”
“But you did it, anyway.”
I nodded. “Yeah.”
He held my gaze for a beat longer than necessary, then took a sip of his drink.
“You always were something,” he said.
Beth smirked. “Okay, Wyatt, but now I want to know what you do. Because you’ve got mysterious energy.”
Wyatt chuckled. “That’s one way to put it.”
He glanced at me, checking something silently.
I shrugged. “Up to you.”
“I work … internationally,” he said carefully. “Engineering. Security. That kind of thing.”
“That is vague,” Beth said appreciatively.
Natasha tilted her head. “And you just … don’t do social media.”
“Nope. Posting your life online isn’t wise.”
“That explains a lot,” I murmured.
He looked at me then, expression softening. “I should’ve told you. Back then.”
I nodded. “I know.”
And I meant it. Whatever had happened, whatever he’d chosen, it was his life. We had been kids standing on the edge of adulthood, pretending we knew what we were doing.
Still, it felt good to hear him say it.
Conversation flowed easily after that. Stories traded. Laughter rising and falling. Wyatt told them about Valentine—how small it really was, how everyone knew everyone, how summers felt endless and winters felt personal.
He talked about my laugh like it was a known fact. About how I used to read on the hood of my dad’s truck. About how I hated scary movies but pretended not to.
I listened, a little stunned, realizing the version of me he carried hadn’t faded or been overwritten. He’d kept it. All this time.
When the night finally began to wind down, Beth stretched and yawned dramatically. “As much as I love watching the past collide with the present, I am exhausted.”
Natasha smiled. “Same.”
Wyatt stood as well, slipping on his jacket. “I don’t want to keep you.”
Outside, the city had shifted again—quieter now, softer. The air still warm, the streets glowing.
We paused on the sidewalk, an unspoken question hanging between us.
“I’m staying nearby,” I said. “If … you wanted to talk more. Just us.”