Everyone except me.
I'm stuck wondering if I made the right choice. Wondering if there even was a right choice, or if we were both doomed from the start.
The music changes and Hailey asks, "Do you want to line dance?"
I glance at the door wondering how long I have to keep doing this.
It swings open and I could swear Wyatt is standing there. I stare and then shake my head trying to get the image of him out. I’ve got it so bad now I’m imagining him walking in here.
Brook’s back. I look at her, expecting Wyatt’s ghost to disappear when I look back but he’s still there. He's wearing his riding clothes—dusty jeans, worn boots, a shirt that's seen better days. His hat's pulled low, but I can see his face in the neon glow. See the exhaustion in his eyes, the set of his jaw that means he's determined about something.
Hailey puts her arm around me. “Did you know he was coming?” she asks Brook.
Brook shakes her head.
“He’s here,” I whisper.
The bar keeps moving around us—people laughing, the DJ playing, couples spinning across the floor. But my world stops turning.
He scans the crowd, searching. And then his eyes find mine across the packed room, and everything else falls away.
His expression shifts —something raw and desperateand determined all at once. He takes a step forward, then another.
My fingers grip the edge of the table. My heart hammers against my ribs.
"What do we do?" Hailey asks quietly.
I don't hear Brook's response. Wyatt's crossing the dance floor now, his eyes locked on mine, and I have absolutely no idea what to do with him. His jaw is set hard, shoulders tense under his dark shirt, and the way he moves—purposeful, unstoppable—parts the crowd without effort. My heart hammers against my ribs, betraying every resolve I'd made. The evidence against Martinez burns in the back of my mind, but it changes nothing about the baby—that permanent, unbreakable thread binding him to Brittney forever. My fingers tremble against the table as he closes the distance between us, and I realize with crystal clarity that I've been preparing for every outcome except the one walking straight toward me with fire in his eyes.
Forty-Nine
THAT WAS A STUPID DECISION MADE IN A MOMENT THAT'S GOING TO LAST A LIFETIME.
WYATT
The Dusty Boot is packed wall-to-wall with people I've known my whole life. Familiar faces turn toward me as I push through the door—neighbors, ranch hands, folks from church. A few nod in recognition, others look away like they've heard the rumors and don't know what to say.
Across the crowded bar, sitting at a high-top table near the dance floor, is the only person who matters.
Kinsley.
Her hair falls in waves around her shoulders, but it's her eyes that gut me. Even from here, I can see the damage I put there.
Our gazes meet across the room, and everything else falls away. The music, the voices, thepress of bodies—none of it exists. Just her. Just the woman I drove three hundred miles through the night to see.
I’m moving toward her.
Brook appears in front of me like a wall, her hands pressing against my chest to stop me. "What are you doing showing up here?"
"I came for Kinsley."
"You'd better calm down before you do something you'll regret." Brook's voice is low and fierce, protective. "You broke her heart, Wyatt. You think you can just scoop it back up and move on? You're having a baby with another woman. We don't get over those kinds of things."
I break eye contact with Kinsley and look at my sister. "I can't live without her, Brook."
"That's not fair to her."
"I know it's not fair. None of this is fair." My voice breaks. "But the only way any of this makes sense—even being a—" The word sticks in my throat. "A father. The only way I can do any of it is if Kinsley's with me."