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His groan vibrates through my whole body.
For a while afterward, neither of us moves.
Wyatt stays close, his face tucked against my neck while we catch our breath, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him there. His heart is pounding against mine, slowing little by little until the room goes quiet around us.
Eventually, he lifts his head. His hair is a mess from my hands, and there’s something almost dazed about the way he looks at me.
“Hi,” I whisper.
A tired smile pulls at his mouth. “Hi, Peachy.”
I brush his hair away from his forehead, and his eyes close for a second as he leans into my hand.
That tiny movement gets me more than it should.
Tonight has been full of them. Little moments where Wyatt hasn’t tried to make me laugh or distract me or turn something serious into a joke. He told me about Wayne. He told me about the guilt he’s been carrying around all these years. He let me see him hurting instead of waiting until he could put himself back together and show me the easier version.
And now he’s lying here, looking at me without any of his usual defenses.
His fingers brush some hair away from my cheek, and he’s unusually quiet. I can practically see him debating something.
Then his thumb moves slowly over my cheek.
“I’m in love with you, Quinn Brennan,” he whispers.
Everything inside me stops. For one strange second, I’m not even sure I heard him correctly.
Wyatt doesn’t look away.
There’s an unexpected sting in my eyes because this man, the one who’s given me so much of himself tonight, is everything I’ve ever wanted. He’s looking at me now after handing me one more terrifyingly vulnerable piece of himself, and somehow he isn’t asking me for anything in return.
I kiss him slowly, trying to put everything into the kiss that I can’t put into words yet.
When I pull back, he stays close enough that the tips of our noses brush.
“I’m really glad I’m here,” I whisper.
His arm tightens around me. “Me too, princess.”
I tuck myself against him, my face against his chest, and he pulls the covers higher around us before wrapping both arms around me.
I can hear his heartbeat beneath my ear.
He loves me.
Right now, all I can think about is how grateful I am that tonight, when everything in him told him to shut me out, Wyatt chose to let me in.
24
WYATT
Childhood Grief Casserole
Morning comes gray through the blinds, and Quinn’s still asleep beside me, curled toward my side of the bed with one hand tucked under her cheek while Pickles is wedged against my shins on the other side, snoring loudly enough that I’m pretty sure something inside his nose is structurally wrong.
I don’t move, partly because I’m comfortable but mostly because Quinn’s still here.
I watch her breathe for a while, the slow rise and fall of her shoulder, a strand of hair catching against her lips every time she exhales. When I reach over and brush it away, she makes a quiet sound but doesn’t wake, and my hand lingers against her cheek for a second before I pull it back.
