Page 38 of Wild for the Knight

The letter.

The numerous fake dates I used to make up so she wouldn’t question me.

It’s heavy. And I’m so damn tired.

I step into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me before she can say anything else. Not that I think she would anyway. Locking it, I slide to the floor, pulling my knees tightly into my chest. My head falls against my arms as the panic seeps into my bones, heavy and all consuming.

I need a shower hot enough to burn these feelings out of me. To scrub away the weight of it, the guilt from hiding things from her. To reset. I let my grip slip these past few weeks, and look at me now. If I could just get things back to how they were before we got here, everything would be fine. Right?

I didn’t even notice the door had opened until his voice cut through the tornado currently wreaking havoc on my brain. “Tink.” I don’t move, don’t blink. I don't even acknowledge his existence. I can’t, because if I do, I’ll let him in. And that isn’t going to help anyone.

I need the version of him I know how to handle–the broody, stubborn, and impossible one. The one who pisses me off to no end, who rubs me the wrong way so badly that it keeps me from falling apart. But instead, I get this one.

The one who's crouched in front of me, hands resting on my knees, squeezing slightly to let me know he’s here. Like he can feel the way I’m falling apart. “What happened?” His voice is laced with concern, enough concern that it almost makes me talk. Almost.

“Abby, talk to me, please.” I lift my head, the second my eyes meet his, the tornado goes from a three to a five. The way he’s looking at me, like I’m some fragile woman, is too much.

“I’m fine,” I grumble. He doesn’t buy my lie for a second. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face before he sits down, legs bracketing mine as he leans his chest against my shins. He slowly wraps his hands around the back of my calves before giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t lie to me.” His eyes sweep over my face as he begins running his hands up and down the backs of my legs. “You’re sitting on the floor in the bathroom, looking like you haven’t slept in days. So, talk to me.”

I scoff, clinging to sarcasm like a lifeline. “You saying I look like shit, Sunshine?” He blinks, clearly thrown by my quick change in demeanor, before he drags a hand through his hair.

“No, now stop deflecting.” His chin drops to the tops of my knees, the glare he levels me with is one I’ve been on the receiving end of thousands of times. “Don’t shut me out. Something is clearly bothering you. I don’t want you sitting in the car all day stewing over it. Let it out.”

The urge to tell him to get lost is strong. I should fortify the walls I’ve spent years building, but sadly, he’s right. “Hannah asked me to find out who you’re dating on the way home.”

His eyes widen, and for a second, I think he might rethink our little arrangement. But then he drops his head back to my knees and laughs. It grates against my already frazzled nerves. “Tatum, it’s not funny,” I snap. “I don’t want to lie to her. She’s basically my sister.”

“So don’t,” he says. “Tell her the truth.”

A laugh so bitter rips from my throat before I can stop it. “Like that wouldn’t throw the world's biggest monkey wrench into everything.” Shaking my head, I look up at the ceiling. “It’s not that simple.”

“It could be.” His voice is steady, convincing. “If hiding it and pretending that nothing’s going on here is eating at you, then is it really worth it to keep it hidden?”

My gaze drops as I fiddle with the hem of my shirt, my mind running through every possible reaction she could have. But it isn’t just him and I that I’ve kept from her. “She’s about to move out. What if I tell her and it ruins everything? It’s not like it’s just one thing I’ve been keeping from her.”

His fingers find their way to my cheek as he angles my face toward his. I lean into his touch before I can think better of it. “But what if it doesn’t?” he counters. “What if she understands all of it? What if she understands us?”

My heart stumbles, “Is there even an us?” The question spills from my lips before I can take it back. He swallows hard, the muscle in his jaw ticking.

After what feels like an eternity, he nods. “I’d like there to be.” I stare at the sharp angles of his face, softened by the freckles I should have no business caring about. At the dark lashes that make his light eyes stand out even more. At the mouth that’s spent years taunting me, challenging me, the same mouth that spent last night loving every inch of me. I lose the fight to keep my hands to myself as I reach out, trailing my fingers over the freckles that cut a path across his face.

“Okay,” I whisper. “I think I’d like that too.” He shifts behind me, pulling me into his chest as he leans against the door. His fingers lace through mine, and when his chin lands on the top of my head, I almost laugh. Oh, how the tables have turned. Tatum Wilder, the walking storm cloud, holding onto me like I’m something worth protecting from the rain.

We sit in silence for a few moments, his heartbeat providing a steady anchor, loosening the pressure in my chest with every beat. “Tell me something about you that no one else knows,” I say as I trace the veins in his forearms, the other hand still clinging to his.

His deep sigh rattles against my back. “I don’t actually like to be alone.” I tilt my head to look at him. His slow exhale tells me he’s trying to figure out just how much he wants to tell me. Then he grabs my hand, crossing our arms over my waist as he holds me against him.

“Before Nikki, I was never alone,” His thumbs begin to trace lazy patterns over the backs of my hands as he continues. “I had friends. I did the whole party thing. I think after her little stunt, I just lumped everyone into the ‘untrustworthy’ category.” Understandable, I’ve done the same. Well, with men at least.

“It was easier to push people away, to pretend I was fine on my own. No one could hurt me that way. All I ever wanted was to be the best at something. Soccer was that something, and they tried to take it.” My fingers tighten around his, hoping to ground him the way he’s been grounding me.

“I didn’t think I needed anything but soccer. But...” His voice trails off, and when his eyes meet mine, they’re guarded. “Since Hannah and my brother got engaged, something’s been missing. I just couldn’t figure out what.”

My heart clenches; the hope blossoming is terrifying. “And now you know?” I ask, my voice barely audible as he tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear and smiles.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I do.” And then he kisses me. Soft, reverent, a moment frozen in time. When we break apart, his eyes stay closed like he’s committing this to memory. Like it's something worth remembering. I don’t know what this all means. I don't know how to let go of the control I’m so used to holding on to. But right now, none of it matters. Because right now, for the first time in a really long time, I feel safe.