Page 102 of Caught Up In You

She whirls around to face me. “Hazel sent us home to get some sleep.” She pauses, studying me. “Eden is doing fine. But Owen…are you?”

“No.” The word is out of my mouth so fast it takes me a moment to process that the voice that said it was mine.

And saying it out loud makes me feel…relief. Because if I’m not okay, I have a good reason for what I’m about to do. Because I can’t be what Wyatt needs. It’s all right there in front of her. I just need to make her see it.

“Okay,” she says slowly, and the admission seems to calm her too. She nods, swallowing hard. “Okay, well, we should talk about that. Or you should talk about it with somebody else. But I’m here for you no matter what. You can tell me anything.”

As I look at her—her hair still mussed, her eyes bloodshot from stress and lack of sleep, her brow furrowed as she tries to solve me like a Rubik’s Cube—it all clicks into place. Wyatt is sitting on my couch, ready to take on whatever mess I throw at her. Ready to fix it. To fixme.

Just like she took care of Hazel. And Eden. And Libby. And that asshole Griffin Stone.

Everyone but herself.

God, she’s so tough. So strong and smart and savvy. It’s time for her to turn that awesome power on herself.

It’s time I let her go.

CHAPTER 41

WYATT

“I think it’s time to stop,” he says.

I hear the words, but I don’t understand them.

“This was supposed to be no strings attached for a reason,” he says, like he’s delivering a diagnosis. Like he’s listing treatments and their side effects. Dispassionate and scientific—the perfect doctor. “We’ve gone too far, and we need to stop.”

I blink at him like he’s spoken a foreign language, my brain whirring.

The last few hours have been an absolute tsunami of stress, but before that, we were in bed. I was curled into the nook of his arm, and he loved me. And I love him. That’s why I came here. I knew that because we loved each other, we’d be able to talk about what’s going on. We could find help together.

This…this doesn’t make any sense.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

He turns to the mantel and pulls down the pineapple can. “We said if we wanted to reassess, we could do that. Walk away without a fight.”

Without afight? He thinks I’m not going to fight him on this?

“No, that’s whatyousaid because you thoughtI’dwant to walk away. But I don’t want that,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “I love you.”

He has the good grace to flinch.

“It hasn’t even been a day since we said that. That we love each other. Not even one fuckingday.” I’m quickly losing the battle to control my tone.

But all he can do is stare down at that fucking pineapple can.

I take a deep breath and try again. It’s clear something is very wrong with him, and it’s making him react badly. But I can…I mean,wecan…

“Owen, I know that what happened with Eden freaked you out,” I try. “And maybe your brain is telling you that something about it was your fault, but hear me when I say it wasn’t. I talked to Dr. Adebayo, and she said croup and RSV often present similarly, and Eden didn’t have a fever when we left, and she could have?—”

“Stop,” he says, his eyes closed like he’s in pain.

“No, Owen. I won’t stop. Something is going on with you, and you’ve been hiding it for too long. From me, from your family, maybe even from yourself.” My words are rushing out like a desperate tidal wave, the pressure in my chest growing as I watch him breathe, and close his eyes, and pull away. “Please, Owen, listen to me. I don’t know what happen during third year, but?—”

“Stop!” he shouts.

I’ve never heard Owen McBride shout.

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