Chapter 16 #2
“You weren’t a looter. The owner sent you,” she half-whispers with near childlike sadness, as if that would have been easier to believe had he simply said, oh by the way, the owner up in Alaska gave me this house in the middle of an apocalypse.
“So when you said that rifle was too old to pump out a bullet, you were lying?”
He nods.
“I tried to shoot you, and you didn’t flinch. You acted like you knew it was faulty.”
“No. I just didn’t care if you shot me.”
“Oh.” She’s looking at him like he’s sprouted a third eye or a second head, like she’s never seen him before and wishes she never would again. “I never would have known any of this if you didn’t say something.”
“I’d know. I’d know every time you offer me understanding about some fictional traumatic childhood. Every time you hope for a memory I can’t share. I’d know.”
She cringes like he insulted her, perhaps remembering how gentle she’d been to him at the barn earlier and feeling foolish.
He wants her to say something. Yell at him. Call him an asshole and let him beg forgiveness.
It isn’t over, though, and he has a feeling the worst is yet to come. “That ain’t all of it. I still have the plane.”
Her mouth drops open half an inch in surprise.
“I was going to leave with it once I healed up,” he continues, before he can let fear stop him. “To go where, I dunno, but that was the plan. I was gonna leave you both here the minute I felt up to flying again. That damn plane was all I had left to keep me going.”
Those tears she’d been holding in begin to wet her skin, like he knew they would, because if there’s one thing she fears, it is abandonment.
Her husband left them in this house without so much as a goodbye, and he planned on offering her a repeat performance.
To lance open a fresh wound and pour another ounce of salt inside.
She sniffles hard and raises her eyes to his, almost definitely. “And now? Is that plane still all you have left to keep you going?”
“No. It’s not.”
“Why are you telling me this? Are you leaving? Is that it? I guess I should be grateful you’re saying goodbye. I never got that much last time.”
“I’m not leaving. I’m telling you because things have changed.
Because I care about you and Emma.” He pulls the gun from the back of his waistband and lays it on the table between them, hating how she takes a half step back like she’s lost all trust in him.
“And because a deal is a deal. It’s been thirty days.
You deserve to know everything before you decide. ”
If he thought she looked upset or hurt before, those last few words stoke a blaze of anger that could light him aflame with her rage. He half expects her to grab the pistol and smack him across the face with it. Kinda hopes that she does. He would gladly take the hit.
She picks it up with careful hands, and he waits to see if she might point it at his breaking heart.
Her cold stare locks with his as she ejects the clip and slams them both back on the table.
“Of everything you just said, nothing hurt more than knowing you think I might actually shoot you. Do you even know me at all, Wyatt? Or has everything else been a lie, too? All the moments I thought we were getting…closer, did all of that mean nothing?”
He moves toward her, reaching out a tentative hand in her direction. “It meant everything to me. Everything.”
She steps back just beyond his fingertips. “I can’t.”
His hand drops to his side as she disappears into the hall without looking back.
No, he hadn’t expected she might do it because he does know her.
He was ready to face the consequences if he were wrong, though.
Ready to accept that he deserved it. Yet here she is, offering him a chance he hasn’t earned.
He should feel relieved, but all he wants is to make things right again.
To see her smile the way she had before.
To know she feels as safe with him now as she did when he held her.
All of that may as well be a faraway fever dream now.
Does he give her space?
Does she want him gone?
Those are important questions that he won’t be getting an answer to just yet. Not when pounding on the front door rattles his already frayed nerves. Suddenly, nothing else matters except making sure whatever is out there doesn’t end up in here.
Wyatt grabs the gun and rushes out into the living area as the third thump shakes the frame, meeting Addison and Emma, who look at him like he can resolve this apparent home invasion.
He steps in front of them, raising the gun.
It all happens faster than he can process until three men spill into the front room.
Wyatt doesn’t hesitate to pull the trigger, hoping he’ll have time to take out the other two after the first one drops, but there is only a click where a bullet should be, sending a chill deep into his bones and reminding him that Addison removed the clip.
“Hello there, friend.” The one in front says with that same slight accent he’s grown used to hearing come from Addison’s lips. “I believe that’s my wife and child behind you.”
.