Ryder reversed the truck, and with a wave, he disappeared down the mountain road.
And then it was just the two of them.
“Come.” Wyatt took hold of her hand and guided her up the front steps of the house. “Let’s get you inside.”
Up close, it wasn’t just beautiful, it was solid, as if it had weathered life. He pressed his palm against a silver panel set into the wall. Blue light flashed and heavy deadbolts retracted with a solid thunk.
The door swung open, and warm golden light spilled out. Beyond it—she glimpsed white walls and vibrant color.
Her world balanced between one breath and the next.
Behind her was Seven. Akilov. Dark water, explosions, and screaming alarms.
Ahead was warmth. Light. This man who’d stayed with her in the dark. Who’d chosen her.
Jen took a breath. The air was cold and clean and smelled of pine. Holding his hand, she stepped inside.
28
Wyatt guidedJen down the hallway.
“Wow.” She stopped in front of the wall of framed pieces, her head tilted slightly as she studied them. “These are yours?”
“Yes.” Some of his favorites. Charcoal and graphite. Space and shadow. No people or noise.
“They’re incredible.”
He cleared his throat and pivoted abruptly on one foot. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He led her upstairs to the guest room.
The space was spare but warm—blue-green linen pulled tight across the bed, pale wood, thick sheepskin rugs scattered where bare feet might land. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the mountains beyond, snow glowing faintly in the moonlight. Jen crossed the room slowly, fingertips brushing the wood. She stopped at the window. “Your home is beautiful.”
Wyatt pulled open one of the closets. A few shelves held Sarah’s things neatly stacked—clothes she kept here for the nights she stayed over.
“Bathroom’s through there,” he said, nodding toward the opposite door. “Towels are in the cabinet. Hot water takes a minute, but once it does, you’re good.”
He pulled Sarah’s blue flannel pajamas from the shelf. They wouldn’t fit perfectly, but they were warm and soft.
He turned and held them out. “My sister’s. She keeps a few spare things here.”
“Thank you.” Jen took the pajamas from him, her fingers brushing his.
Half a second. Maybe less. But he felt her touch in every inch of his body. He stepped back toward the door. “Take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen.”
She didn’t move.
Instead, she stood there, holding the pajamas, shoulders rounded now that the adrenaline had burned off, looking smaller than she had on the rig.
“Wyatt?”
He stopped and turned.
Her eyes gleamed in the soft light. “Thank you. For all of it.”
He rubbed one hand across the back of his neck. “Get cleaned up. We’ll talk after.” He stepped back and left before his hand could rise to her cheek, the door clicking shut behind him as he headed down the hall.
In the kitchen, he opened the fridge. He stared at the contents, trying not to listen to the rush of hot water from the boiler in the adjoining room.
