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“I do understand. I do. And I’m so sorry, Wyatt. I’m so, so—”
“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me! I didn’t tell you so you’d feel sorry for me. I told you so you’d understand what a fucking loser I am. What a fucking, fucking mistake I am—”
“You are not a loser.” She grabbed him then, wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged his mouth down to hers. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, wasn’t a tender kiss. It was fierce and angry and desperate and sorry and so many other things that she didn’t know how to put into words. So many other things that he wouldn’t let her say. “You are not a mistake. You are one of the strongest people I have ever met. I can’t imagine the nightmares you’ve gone through, but you’re here and you’re sober and somehow, despite everything, you’re such a good man.”
“I’m not—”
“You are,” she told him, her hands clenching on his biceps. “Ryder can see it. So can Quinn and Jared and Jamison. And me. I can see it, Wyatt. The way you’re always willing to sacrifice for your friends. The way you stand up for them. The fact that they all come to you for advice.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks now despite her best efforts, and she paused just long enough to wipe them away. “And the way you treat me. You’re always so gentle with me, so kind and careful, even though I’ve pretty much been nothing but a total pain in your ass since I got here. The way you got clean, when it had to have been so hard. So awful.
“You are a good man, Wyatt. The very best kind of man, and I’m so, so sorry that you’ve been hurt so badly. So, so sorry that you can’t see it. Because I can, and you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”
“Stop,” he told her, even as he pulled her back into his arms. Even as he pressed desperate kisses to her mouth. Even as he held her tight, tight, tight against his chest. “Just stop. I hear what you’re saying, but I can’t take any more right now. I just can’t.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay.”
His phone buzzed yet again and he cursed under his breath. “I need to go. The guys have been blowing up my text messages all morning.”
“Do you want me to call them? Tell them you’re having a rough day—”
“No. That’s the last thing they need to hear right now.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead, then pulled away. “I’ll call them.”
“Are you sure? You don’t have to go.”
“I do…I do have to go. I need to think.”
“I know, but—” She stopped, not wanting it to sound like she was doubting him. Because she wasn’t, not really. But she was worried. Shit, after what he’d told her she wanted a drink and it wasn’t even her fucking story. She could only imagine how he felt right now.
His eyes clouded over. “I’m not going to use, Poppy.”
“I know that.” She made sure her voice rang with conviction.
“Do you?” he asked.
“I do, Wyatt. I trust you.”
He shook his head, laughed a little bitterly. “I don’t know why.”
“Because you deserve it.”
“I don’t. I—” His phone buzzed again and this time he pulled it out and fired off a text before shoving it back in his pocket.
“You could just put them out of their misery and tell them you aren’t quitting the band. They’d probably leave you alone then.” He raised his brows at her and she just shrugged, grinned sheepishly. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“I guess not.” He didn’t sound impressed.
“Look, I know you have a lot to think about. I know I forced you to talk about things you’d rather just forget. But this band thing—you need to understand how important you are to Shaken Dirty. Jared might be the leader of the band, Quinn might be the heart, and Ryder might be the soul, but you, Wyatt, you are the backbone of this band. You give them their shape, their sound, you hold all of them together. If you break, they all break.”
When she finished, he didn’t say anything, didn’t respond at all. Just stared at her as the seconds slowly ticked by.
She let the silence stretch out as long as she could, but it was dark and brooding and awkward, and she wanted to make it stop. She wanted to make all of his pain stop.
“Wyatt, please—” She reached a hand out to him, but he didn’t take it.
“I have to go.” He started for the door.
She followed him. “Like that? You don’t even have a shirt on.”
He shrugged, kept walking. “I’ve gone out in less.”
