Chapter 15 #3
“She left because I couldn’t be what she needed.
When I came back from my second deployment, I was a mess.
The PTSD was really bad. I mean, really bad.
Like, I couldn’t sleep without nightmares.
I couldn’t go to crowded places. I couldn’t handle loud noises or sudden movements.
And Laney tried. She really did. But I was so focused on just trying to survive every day that I didn’t have anything left to give to her or anybody else.
She needed more than I could give, and I didn’t know if I’d ever be able to give it again. ”
“So she found someone else,” I say quietly.
“Yeah. Someone who was there. Someone who could be present in a way that I wasn’t sure I ever would again.”
“That must have hurt.”
“It did. But I understood it. That’s the worst part. I couldn’t even really be angry at her, because I knew she was right. I was no longer capable of being in a relationship, at least not at that time. I was barely capable of being a person.”
“And now?” I ask softly.
“Now I’m better. Not perfect. I mean, I still have bad days.
But I’ve learned how to manage it better.
How to take care of myself. How to be honest about what I need.
” He turns to look at me. “Which is one of the reasons I wanted to wait on this, take things slow, because I need you to know what you’re getting into. ”
“Wyatt…”
“I have nightmares sometimes. I still don’t like crowds very much, except at The Rusty Spur.
Sometimes even that gets a little overwhelming.
Fireworks are a nightmare. July Fourth is my least favorite day of the year.
Sometimes I still have panic attacks. And when that happens, I need space and quiet and time to work through it in my own way.
” He’s looking at me now, searching my face for something.
“If that’s too much, if that’s more than you want to sign up for…
I mean, you’ve got your own things to deal with.
I just need you to tell me now, before this, well, before we go any further. ”
I squeeze his hand tighter.
“Wyatt Rivers, do you really think I’m scared of you having bad days, of you needing space sometimes, of you being human and complicated and dealing with trauma?”
“Some people are.”
“Well, I’m not some people, I guess.” I shift closer to him.
“You want to know what I think? I think you’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met.
You went through hell, literally, and you came out the other side.
You built a life for yourself. You help people every day.
You take care of your grandmother and run a bar, and you carve beautiful things out of wood.
You show up every day, even when it’s hard. ”
“Eleanor—”
“I’m not done.” I smile a little. “You also caught fish so you could cook me dinner on our first date, and you brought me to your secret waterfall, and you hold my hand like it matters. And yes, you have PTSD and nightmares and bad days, but that doesn’t scare me.
” He watches me closely.“But you know what does scare me?” I continue.
“What?”
“How much I’m starting to care about you.
How much I want this to work. How much I want to stay in Copper Creek, even though I have no idea whether I can make this work in the long term.
That’s what scares me. I never knew Mavis, but I have so much respect for what she created here.
She was so brave to leave her whole life behind to find the kind of peace she wanted. ”
He’s looking at me with those blue eyes, hope and fear and care all mixed together in them.
“I want to kiss you,” he says, his voice rough. “And I want you to kiss me. But we said we’d wait until you’re sure.”
“I know what we said.”
The air between us is electric. He’s so close I can see flecks of darker blue in his eyes. I can hear his breathing go shallow. His hand comes up to cup my face, not brushing across my cheekbone this time. I lean into his touch.
“Eleanor,” he breathes.
And then his phone rings.
The sound shatters the moment like glass. We both freeze, foreheads nearly touching, as the phone keeps ringing in his pocket. He closes his eyes and lets out a breath.
“I should—”
“I know. Answer it.”
He pulls back, digs the phone from his pocket, and looks at the screen.
“It’s my grandmother. Hey, Grandma. Everything okay?
” I watch his face as he listens, and I see the exact moment concern turns to alarm.
“I’m on my way. Thirty minutes. Don’t move anything heavy.
Just sit down.”He’s already standing, packing up the backpack. “I’ll be there soon.”
He hangs up and looks at me, apologetic, frustrated, and worried all at once.
“She fell in the garden. She says she’s fine, but—”
“Oh, you need to go. Of course. Let’s go.”
We practically run down the mountain. The hike that took forty minutes going up takes maybe thirty minutes going down, both of us moving fast, Wyatt in the lead, setting a punishing pace.
When we reach the truck, he pauses with his hand on the door.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “About the timing, about—”
“Don’t apologize. Your grandmother needs you. That’s way more important.”
“Can I—” He stops and runs his hand through his hair. “Can we talk later about what almost happened up there?”
“We can talk whenever you want.”
He nods, and we climb into the truck.
As we wind down the mountain road, windows down and wind rushing through the cab, I think about the waterfall and how close we came to kissing. About how, for the first time in my life, the interruption doesn’t feel like the universe saying no.
It just feels like the universe is saying not yet.