Page 79 of Wyatt

She’d been so stunned by his words she hadn’t moved, her own retort clogged in her throat. Because it wasn’t like she was going to fall at his feet like some sort of lovesick fan.

He had plenty of those, thank you.

Call it her dumb Russian pride, but in that moment, she heard Natalya’s words.It’s not like he loves you.

No,she might have said.You didn’t wantme.

She wanted to strangle York for his stupid suggestion that Wyatt bring her with him to Vladivostok. But maybe he was right—if her life was about dodging assassins, then Mikka was better off away from her. And with York, who actually knew how to defend him.

Oh, that wasn’t fair. Wyatt was big, tough, and at the end of the day, well, he’d delivered hisNo problemas if he regularly sneaked in and out of former Communist countries.

Roman dropped them off at the train station, and Coco bought a ticket with Wyatt’s money—a private coupe.

Wyatt dumped his duffel bag on the top bunk, made his bed on the lower bunk, and lay on it, one arm up to brace his head. He’d taken a shower before they left but hadn’t shaved, and now the fragrance of fresh soap and the cotton from the sheets drifted over to her. She sat on the berth, staring out the window to the lit tracks, her heart folding over into itself.

“He’s going to be okay. We’ll see him in Seattle,” Wyatt said, not looking at her.

“He’ll be scared and is probably feeling abandoned.” She drew her legs up, locked her arms around them.

“Just like you felt when you came to America.” He looked at her then.

She couldn’t bear the tenderness in his eyes. “Maybe.” She blinked, looked away.

The train lurched forward and eased out of the station.

“Why did you come to America? You always said that your father died, but apparently, that isn’t true, so…”

Her mouth tightened.

“Sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have phrased it like that. It’s just that…” He sighed, then rolled over onto his arm. “I’m reeling here, Cookie.”

She closed her eyes. Pressed her fingers into them, her voice quiet. “For the last five years I’ve pictured how I might tell you that you had a son.” She opened her eyes and met his. “It was not like this.”

He nodded, his mouth pinched at the edges. “Not how I wanted to find out either, to be honest.”

“I was going to tell you I was pregnant that weekend I went to your hockey game in Helena. When you played for the Bobcats—”

“I remember that weekend,” he said softly.

Of course he did. That was the weekend his father had died.

“I remember looking up in the stands, and you were wearing that crazy hat with the bobcat ears. You wore your hair long then, and it was shiny red and caught the light, and I nearly let a goal in.”

Oh.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after…” His mouth closed. And then he broke her heart again by shaking his head. “I’m so sorry that I…” He winced around the eyes. “I think I must have taken advantage of you, twice. I was stupid and inconsiderate and—”

“And I said yes, just as much as you did. Both times.”

He surprised her by looking away and reaching up to thumb away a tear.

“Wyatt?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t regret anything—”

“But I do!”

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