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“I’ll take him up.”
Wyatt slipped past Regan and carried the boy upstairs, Bella on his heels. Gwen was up there—she’d just put clean sheets on his bed—and she raised an eyebrow when she spied his naked chest.
“You like to show off your muscles or what?” she asked lightly.
“Your kid’s wearing my clothes.” He placed Patrick on his bed, and Bella immediately jumped up beside him. “He was cold.”
Gwen tugged off Wyatt’s shirt and handed it back, holding his gaze a heartbeat longer. “Thank you. I’m going to stay with him for a bit, so I’ll say good-bye now.”
He hugged her close. “He’s one hell of a kid, Gwen.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Wyatt headed downstairs, pulling on his shirt so that he was decent by the time he reached the foyer. Brad was chatting with Regan, their voices low and subdued. The man looked tired, worn out, and sad as hell.
Wyatt thanked him for a great evening and slipped into his boots and jacket, watching Regan as she followed suit. They said their good-byes and headed into the dark, Wyatt unsure how to proceed and one hundred percent off his game.
He paused by his truck, and just as he was about to say good-bye, Regan spoke. “Are you headed back to the cabin?” Small pockets of mist fell from her lips, her warm breath coming alive in the cold.
“That depends,” he replied.
“On what?”
“On you.”
A heartbeat passed. And then another.
She opened her car door, slipped inside, and waited a few moments before closing it. It was quiet out. The kind of quiet that hides in the snow. But then she spoke, and her words were crystal clear.
“I think you should stay in town.”
Wyatt watched her taillights disappear down the road as he climbed into his truck. He backed out of the Bergens’ driveway and hesitated for all of two seconds. He could have turned left and headed back to the cabin. Could have called it a night, taken the sleeping pills he’d been avoiding, and drifted off to a place where nothing existed.
Instead, he wheeled his truck right and headed back to town.
Chapter 18
Regan was up early, which was saying something after the night she’d had.
It was early enough that she had time to lie in bed and enjoy the feel of Wyatt beside her. She turned onto her side and watched him sleep. It was a simple pleasure, really, and she indulged herself because she wanted to. Because she had no idea what it was they were doing, which meant she had no idea how l
ong it would last.
It won’t last.
The thought rifled through her head, and with a sigh, she slipped from bed and headed to the shower. It was still dark out, and the windows rattled from the force of the wind. Slivers of ice wound their way up the panes, and she knew it was going to be a cold one. Regan would have loved nothing more than to cuddle back up with Wyatt and fall asleep, but that wasn’t a good idea.
Something was going on with him. He’d kept her up with his tossing and turning. And the man talked in his sleep. Nothing she understood, but still, he was troubled. Another reason why all this—whatever this was—wasn’t a good idea.
With one last look at the sleeping man in her bed, she closed the door and turned on the hot water. Exactly thirty minutes later, she was showered, hair dried, and body lotion applied everywhere. She ached in a few spots, but that was okay. She smiled. It was a good ache.
When Regan walked back into her bedroom, the bed was empty, the rumpled sheets and indentation on the pillow beside hers the only indication she hadn’t been alone. She glanced around the room. Wyatt’s clothes were gone.
Lovely. He’d up and left as soon as he could, and maybe that was a good thing. Last night had been…well, different.
They’d made love in silence. With furious ardor. It was as if they each needed something only the other could give, a connection that didn’t need words. A touch that made things right in a world so unfair, a young boy would most likely not see another year.
