Chapter 44
Forty-Four
Tessa
Ihovered in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, my mug still in my hands, watching him the way I watched storms on the prairie when I was a kid. Measuring distance. Counting seconds. Trying to decide if it was going to pass by or hit the house full on.
He looked up when he felt me there.
Not startled. Just present.
“Hey,” he said softly.
My chest tightened on the word like my body was still bracing for someone to tell me I’d done something wrong.
“Hey,” I managed back, and it didn’t sound like my own voice.
Wyatt’s gaze went over me; he noticed everything, whether I wanted him to or not. The faint tremor in my fingers. The way I kept my weight on the balls of my feet like I might have to run. The way my shoulders stayed up around my ears as if lowering them would invite something bad.
I swallowed. “I slept.”
His mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “You passed out.”
I took a step forward, then stopped. My body hesitated even when my mind was trying to move. I hated that about myself, the way fear rewired my muscles. Like I’d lost my right to be impulsive. Like everything had to be measured now, filtered, checked for danger.
Wyatt didn’t fill the space. He didn’t reach. He just stayed where he was, giving me room to choose.
I took another step.
My bare feet hit the rug, and I felt the fibres under my toes, the small grounding detail that reminded me I was here. I was in the apartment. I wasn’t in that cabin. I wasn’t in the truck with Colin’s voice in my ear. I was here.
Wyatt’s gaze dipped to my feet, then rose again, and I saw the flicker of concern he didn’t let himself speak.
I swallowed hard and finally let the words that had been sitting like a stone inside me come up. “I’ve been thinking.”
Wyatt’s expression didn’t change, but his posture shifted, subtle and immediate. Like he’d braced for impact.
“Okay.”
I could’ve laughed at how careful he sounded, like he didn’t want to startle me. Like I was a horse with a raw spot under the saddle, and one wrong touch would make me bolt.
I hated that I liked it.
I hated that I needed it.
“I’m going back,” I said, and my heart hammered as if saying it out loud might summon consequences.
Wyatt blinked once.
Then he didn’t move.
“My father deserves more from his legacy than what I’ve done so far.
” The thought still made my stomach twist in a way I couldn’t fully explain, because it was grief layered over grief, anger braided into longing.
A lifetime of believing my parents left without care, only to find out one of them had been there the whole time, watching from a distance, building a life around me without ever telling me it was his right to.
“We’re going to talk about Ray being your father another time,” he said, quieter. “When do you want to go?”
“Today,” I said, and the decisiveness surprised even me.
Wyatt’s breath left him slowly. Relief, maybe, but he kept it leashed. “Alright.”
“I’m not going back to be saved,” I said, the words sharp because I needed to draw the line before my fear tried to convince me I owed him something I couldn’t give.
Wyatt’s gaze stayed steady. “I know.”
“No,” I said, too fast. “You don’t. You think you do, but you don’t. I need to say it.”
He went still. “Okay. Say it.” He arched his brow and crossed his arms. Damn it, he was hot when he did that.
I took a breath and felt it catch halfway down, like my lungs still didn’t trust air.
“I’m going back because it’s mine. Because I can’t live in a city and pretend that land isn’t calling me.
Because I can’t leave him there alone, not now that I know.
Not now that I know he didn’t leave me, not really.
He just made a choice he thought would hurt less. ” My voice cracked on the last word.
I hated that tears came so fast. I hated that my body betrayed me with softness when I was trying to be firm.
Wyatt didn’t speak. He didn’t interrupt. He let me fall apart in small, controlled pieces.
I wiped my cheek with the back of my hand, angry at myself for needing that much emotion just to be honest.
“And I’m going back because I’m tired of running. I’ve been running my whole life. From my parents. From Ray. From the truth. From men like Colin, who always made me feel like my choices weren’t mine. I’m done.”
Wyatt’s jaw flexed, something dark flickering there at Colin’s name, but he didn’t let it take over. He stayed present with me instead of letting his anger get the best of him.
“I’m done,” I repeated, quieter. “And I’m not going back to lean on you.”
Wyatt’s gaze didn’t waver. “Okay.”
I blinked at him, thrown off by how easily he accepted it.
My chest rose too fast. I forced a slower breath, tried again, sharper. “I’m serious, Wyatt. I’m moving into Ray’s house. I’m not moving into yours. I’m not becoming your responsibility.”
Wyatt’s eyes softened. “Tessa.” My name in his mouth was careful, like he knew it could be a wound or a balm, and he didn’t want to choose wrong.
I lifted my chin. “I just got out of a relationship. A bad one. And I don’t need anything complicated. I don’t need a man who wants to fix me. I don’t need a man who wants to own me. I don’t need to feel like if I take one wrong breath I’m going to owe someone my whole life.”
Wyatt’s expression tightened, not defensive, just pained. “I don’t want to own you.”
“I know,” I said quickly, and I did know. That was part of what scared me. Colin always wanted something from me, and he called it love. Wyatt wanted nothing from me, and somehow it still felt like I was standing at the edge of something big enough to drown in.
I exhaled, shaky. “If I stay over sometimes, or if you stay at my place sometimes, it doesn’t mean it’s forever.”
The words sat in the air, heavy and raw.
Wyatt’s gaze held mine, and I saw something in his eyes that made my stomach flip, something like longing and acceptance braided together.
“It doesn’t have to mean forever,” he said in agreement.
My throat tightened. I hadn’t expected him to agree so easily. I expected a fight. A push. A wounded look. The subtle punishment of silence.
But Wyatt just… accepted it. Like he understood what I was really saying underneath the boundaries. That I was terrified of losing myself again, and of needing anyone. That I wanted him, and wanting him felt like standing too close to the edge of a cliff.
“That’s what you want,” he added, carefully. “Right now.”
I nodded, grateful for the phrase right now because it gave me room to breathe.
Wyatt’s hands unclasped, then clasped again, like he was resisting the urge to reach for me.
“I’m not looking for forever as payment,” he said quietly. “I’m looking for you to be safe enough to sleep, and so you don’t carry all of it alone.”
My chest tightened. “Good, I can’t carry it alone.” The admission came out before I could stop it.
Wyatt didn’t pounce on it. He didn’t turn it into a victory.
He just nodded once, like it was a truth he respected. “You can be independent and still let people help you.”
My mouth twisted. “That sounds like something you’d say because you’re good at helping.”
Wyatt’s mouth twitched too, a faint echo of humour.
“Maybe I am. Listen, Tessa, you don’t belong to me, and I don’t want you to feel indebted in any way.
I meant what I said last night, I love you, and I want you by my side, but I’ll wait for you.
However long it takes, I’ll wait,” he said, low and absolute.
My throat worked as I swallowed, my chest tight in a way that felt like pain and relief tangled together.
Wyatt’s gaze dipped to my mouth for half a second, then back to my eyes, like he was forcing himself to stay with the words and not the pull.
I stared at him, my body trembling faintly. “I’m scared,” I admitted.
Wyatt nodded once, like fear was not a flaw, just information.
“I know.”
I exhaled, shaky. “I’m scared that if I go back, I’ll fail. And I’m scared that if I don’t go back, I’ll hate myself forever.”
Wyatt’s voice was quiet. “You won’t fail because you don’t know everything on day one. You only fail if you stop showing up.”
The words landed deep, not like a pep talk, but like a truth that didn’t care if I was ready.
I nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”
Wyatt’s gaze stayed steady. “Do you want to drive with me? I can send the guys back to get Ray’s truck.”
“No,” I said quickly, and the firmness surprised me. “I need to drive.”
Wyatt nodded. “Okay.”
“And you’re going in your truck,” I added, because the thought of being trapped in someone else’s space still made my skin crawl.
Wyatt didn’t blink. “Okay.”
I stared at him, my chest aching with the simplicity of his acceptance.
“Why are you being so agreeable?” I asked, and it came out almost angry, because part of me was still waiting for the trap.
Wyatt’s mouth twitched faintly. “Because you’re not asking for anything unreasonable. You’re asking for control. You’re telling me you need space and you want your life to stay yours.”
My eyes burned. For a second, the apartment felt too small for what was sitting between us, for everything unsaid.
The air seemed thicker. Warmer. My skin was too aware of itself, of my pulse, of the way my body kept remembering his arms around me in the dark, the way it had felt to be held without being owned.
I forced a breath in, slow and shaky.
“I need to pack,” I said.
Wyatt nodded. “Okay, I can wait outside. Or I can wait in the truck. Whatever feels better.”
My chest tightened again, hot and strange.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I admitted, and the honesty startled me because it wasn’t about safety anymore. It was about the quiet inside me that started to recognize his presence as something steady.
Wyatt’s eyes darkened, just a fraction, like the words hit him somewhere tender.
“I won’t,” he said.
I swallowed hard. “But I also don’t want you hovering.”
Wyatt nodded, like that wasn’t a contradiction, like he understood the line I was trying to walk.