Page 84 of Wyatt

“Stop thankin’ me. You give as good as you get, Sunshine.” He flashes me a wide white smile. “I mean that in the perverted sense.”

“Everything you sayisa euphemism.”

His smile broadens. I smile back, and this time, it’s a real smile because I love the fact that he and I share so many inside jokes.

We smile at each other like that for one beat. Two.

“Let me walk you to your car.” Wyatt’s voice sounds different. It’s deeper. Coarser.

I shake my head. “I should run. Lots to catch up on.”

Wyatt nods. “Yeah. Me too.”

Another beat of silence.

My chest burns from where the rope bit into my skin. It’ll probably leave a mark.

Wyatt keeps marking me. Is that another sign that his feelings for me run deep?

“See ya.” I turn and bolt for the door. “Please tell Ella I had the best time hanging out with her today.”

“Okay.”

Reaching for the latch, I glance over my shoulder. Wyatt is looking at me, his eyes narrowed. His smile is gone. A pair of indents has appeared between his eyes, like he’s confused. Or hurt.

I’m doing the right thing. This is what he wants. This is what I said I wanted.

Only I want more, and I don’t know what to do about that.

I burst into tears the moment I’m in my truck. Starting the ignition, I turn on the heat and lean my head against the steering wheel.

I drive back home in a daze. Luckily, I manage to get ahold of myself as I get closer to the house; I don’t want to tip Mom and Dad off that something happened. Mostly because I don’t feel like talking about it. And Dad is so laser-focused onmebeing laser-focused on my job. He gives me my freedom, but I doubt he’d approve of me being tied up by Wyatt instead of listening to that podcast or reading those journals.

The smell of Mom’s white chicken chili hits me the minute I step through the door. No doubt she has a pot of it bubbling away on the stove.

My heart clenches. One good thing about coming home tonight: I won’t miss dinner. I know Mom made the chili especially for me. Topped with sour cream, cubed avocado, tortilla strips, and some shredded cheese, her white chicken chili might be my favorite meal of all time.

“Hey, honey.” Mom looks up from the book she’s reading on the living room sofa. “How was your day?”

I’m getting scary good at pasting on these smiles. “It was great.” Looking down, I toe out of my boots. “Smells delicious, Mom.”

“I was hoping you’d be home in time for dinner. How’s Wyatt?”

Did I tell Mom I was hanging out with Wyatt today? Pretty sure all I said this morning was that I had some errands to run.

“I was with Wyatt last night.”

“I know. And you were with him again today.”

My stomach dips. I glance into the house. Dad is nowhere in sight. I didn’t see his truck out front, but there’s a good chance that just means he put it in the garage.

I pull my brows together. Keep my voice low when I ask, “How’d you know?”

“I just do.” She nods at me. “And you’re wearing his jacket.”

“Oh. Yeah.” I look down at it. “I was…chilly. He let me borrow it.”

“Awfully kind of him.”

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