26. Wyatt

Chapter Twenty-Six

Wyatt

The light in Rosie's bedroom was low, cast from a single lamp beside her bed. Her hair tangled around her shoulders. Her skin was dewy, and her eyes wide and dark.

One of my hands gripped her at the hip, my fingers pressing into her skin. She rocked with me. I felt as if I was exactly where I belonged.

My need rushed through me like a storm with gale-force winds. My release threatened, my balls tightening as I clung to my control, savoring the indescribable pleasure of being sheathed inside her. She rippled around me. My heart kicked along, and it felt as if it were about to crack one of my ribs.

There was sex, and there was what we had—this intense, wild mixture of fierce lust laced within deep emotion and intimacy. It felt as if it transcended love. This was how it always was when I was with her.

"Come with me," I whispered.

She blinked just as she rose and sank down again. I knew her body's call. She began to tremble, and I slid my other hand up her back, pressing between her shoulder blades to pull her closer. I brought my lips to hers, catching her cry just as she came, shuddering all over.

I finally let go, the line of my control breaking loose as my release jolted through me. A few moments later, she curled against me, and I held her close. Tonight had been one moment after another. Rosie felt tender and vulnerable in a way that was rare for her. I would've just held her tonight, but she wanted this. She'd said, "I need you now."

When Rosie needed me, I would do my best to give her whatever she needed.

A little while later, we untangled ourselves, and she shimmied close to me after I turned out the light. The last thing I remembered was her pressing a kiss at the base of my throat just before she tucked her head into the curve of my neck and letting out a soft sigh.

Her brother texted her the following morning, saying he wanted us to meet him and their dad at Spill the Beans Café. I was too caught up in how good it felt to be with Rosie to start worrying yet.

It all felt so uneventful at first. We got coffee, and Rosie held my hand. I didn't even know how to explain the warm sense of joy I felt, just having it open to the world that we were together. Rosie's dad clapped me on the shoulder as we walked over to the table with him.

Only after I'd had two swallows of coffee did I realize there might be a problem.

Rosie's brother looked over at her nervously and then at me. The guy didn't even lead into what he said. "Rosie, I went to rehab. I'm in recovery. I'm doing fine. I just need you to know that's what happened."

Rosie blinked, lowering the mug she'd been lifting to the table. "What?" She looked bewildered, and I slid my arm around her shoulders.

It all went straight to hell from there.

"He's doing good, Rosie, real good," her dad said.

"You knew?" she squeaked.

Her dad nodded. "I haven't known for long, though."

The tension building inside me was tight like a band squeezing around my chest.

Rosie's face was pale, and she gripped her mug with both hands. She glanced from her brother to her dad and finally to me. She read right through me.

"You knew?" she pressed, anger and betrayal flicking in her eyes.

"I found out by accident. Brent told me he was going to tell you," I said quickly.

Her brother seemed to realize we were in dicey territory here. Rosie looked around the table again. "I'm not upset that you were in rehab. I understand. You didn't have to tell me, but why does everybody know but me? Why is it a secret only from me? Did I do something to make you think I might judge you for this?"

"No, Rosie, no," her brother said quickly. "I'm just—oh, fuck." He let out a ragged sigh, running his hands through his hair. "The only reason Wyatt knows is he saw me coming out of an NA meeting in the basement at Fireweed Industries. As soon as he saw me, I knew he knew something was up. I just told him because I didn't want to have to lie. I was planning to tell you at some point, so I asked him to give me a chance to tell you. Don't hold anything against him."

Rosie looked utterly stricken. "Why is it a secret from me? I hate secrets."

Before I could get another word out, she jumped up from the table and started to hurry out. The soles of her shoes squeaked on the floor when she stopped abruptly and turned back. "I love you, all of you." She looked at her brother. "I'm glad you're okay, and I'm really proud of you. I know recovery is really hard. I just wish—" She swallowed. "I don't know what I did, but I guess you don't feel like you can tell me things unless you have to. I'm sorry."

Then she was gone, practically running out of the café. We'd driven here separately because she had to go to work. I hurried out behind her. "Rosie!"

She stopped at her car. "It's okay, Wyatt. I understand."

"Rosie." I took another step closer to where she stood by her car door.

Her gaze was carefully blank. "You don't need to apologize. I just need some time."

"I love you," I said.

She stared at me. "I love you too, but I still need time." She climbed in her car and drove away, and it was all I could do not to follow her.

"She definitely needs some time." Her father's gruff voice came from behind me.

I turned back to find him standing nearby. "She hates feeling like she doesn't know what's going on, which I suppose most people do."

I scuffed the toe of my boot on the gravel. "I didn't even want to know this," I muttered, throwing my hands up and letting them fall.

"Of course you didn't. And it was her brother's story to tell. I kind of think I should've handled things better when her mom died. She was at the hospital, and I knew it didn't look good for her mom, but I kept telling Rosie it would be okay. It wasn't, and later, she felt like I kept that from her. Then I was a single dad with a baby. I did my best to handle as much as I could by myself, but she stepped in a lot. Brent looks up to her like a mom. He's always worried he's going to let her down. She understands it wasn't your secret. Just give her a minute."

"It's been a minute," I pointed out. My throat ached.

Her father smiled wryly. A moment later, he tugged me into a one-armed embrace. I could feel the unsteadiness on his feet as I hugged him in return.

I understood why Rosie worried about her father. She worried about him, she worried about her brother, and now she felt like everybody kept a secret from her.

"Can you tell me how long a minute is for the purposes of this situation?" I stepped back, trying to make light of it, but it hurt like fucking hell.