Page 23 of Forgiveness River

“Turn it off,” Raven hissed. “He’ll see us.”

But it was too late. Wyatt’s eyes narrowed, focusing on their car, and she saw the exact moment recognition dawned on his face. Even from this distance, she could read the shock in his expression, followed quickly by something that looked almost like fear.

He stood abruptly, tossing bills on the table before striding toward the door.

“We need to go,” Raven said, panic surging through her. “Now.”

Sophie didn’t argue, turning the key in the ignition as Wyatt emerged from the café, his expression grim and determined as he spotted their car.

“Raven!” His voice carried across the parking lot as Sophie pulled away from the curb. “Wait!”

But Raven couldn’t wait, couldn’t face him with the lump of betrayal still lodged in her throat. She kept her eyes fixed forward as Sophie accelerated, refusing to look in the side mirror where she knew Wyatt would be standing, watching them go.

The last glimpse she allowed herself was in the rearview mirror as they turned onto the main road—Wyatt standing alone in the pool of light from the café windows, his expression a mask of anguish as he watched his wife flee from the truth she wasn’t ready to hear.

Chapter Eleven

The house was too quiet.

Wyatt stood in the doorway of their bedroom, staring at Raven’s side of the closet—the empty hangers swaying slightly from the rush of air as he’d opened the door. Her dresser drawers stood partially open, hastily emptied. The space on her nightstand where her books and reading glasses normally sat was bare except for a folded piece of paper with his name written in her familiar swooping script.

It had been a week since she’d seen him at the café with Agent Kwan. His two weeks was up. He moved toward the nightstand and picked up the note, though he’d memorized its contents days ago:

I’ll talk when you’re ready to tell the truth. Until then, I need space. – R

Wyatt sank onto the edge of the bed, the mattress giving beneath his weight. The sheets still smelled faintly of her perfume, a scent that had once brought comfort but now only twisted the knife deeper. He rubbed his hand over his face, feeling the stubble of a beard he hadn’t bothered to shave in days. His reflection in the dresser mirror revealed a man hebarely recognized—hollow eyed, tension lines carved around his mouth, exhaustion evident in every feature.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Another text from Agent Kwan with updates on Moss’s operation. The DEA’s intelligence suggested signs that the shipment they’d been tracking might be moved up. With a sigh, he tucked the phone away without responding. It could wait five minutes. Everything could wait five minutes.

For just a moment, he allowed himself to feel the weight of what his mission had cost him.

“Enough,” he muttered, standing abruptly. This self-pity wasn’t helping anyone—not Raven, not the operation, not the community he was trying to protect.

He’d tried calling her every day, but her response remained unchanged: she wouldn’t talk to him until he stopped lying. The cruel irony was that his inability to tell her the truth was precisely what was destroying them. Each time he reached out, the wall between them grew higher.

Colt had called the day after he’d found her clothes missing to let him know Raven was staying in his old apartment above the medical clinic. His brother hadn’t asked questions, simply provided the information Wyatt needed and promised to keep an eye on her. That was Colt—steady, reliable, discreet.

Wyatt moved to the bathroom and turned on the shower, cranking the temperature as hot as he could stand it. As steam filled the small space, he stripped off his clothes and stepped under the spray, letting the scalding water pound against his tense muscles. His mind drifted to Raven’s face the night she’d seen him at the café—the shock, the hurt, the betrayal in those blue eyes he’d loved since kindergarten.

The DEA operation was entering its most critical phase. Agent Kwan had warned him that any compromise now could unravel months of work and potentially cost lives. But the lifehe was most concerned about saving was the one he’d built with Raven.

He shut off the water with more force than necessary and grabbed a towel, drying off mechanically. The Sunday family dinner at his parents’ ranch would start in an hour, and the prospect of facing his family without Raven at his side felt like yet another failure in a growing list.

His phone buzzed again. A follow-up from Kwan:Intelligence confirmed. Shipment timeline likely accelerating. Will brief tomorrow.

Wyatt frowned at the message. The operation had been meticulously planned, but if Moss was changing his schedule, everything would need to adjust accordingly.

He tossed the phone on the bed and finished dressing. The prospect of facing his family without Raven at his side felt like yet another failure in a growing list.

His phone rang—his mother this time.

“Don’t forget to bring that wine your father likes.” Anne’s voice came through, warm but with an unmistakable edge of concern. “Is Raven coming separately, or…?”

The carefully phrased question hung in the air between them. His mother knew something was wrong but was giving him space to explain on his terms.

“She’s not feeling well,” Wyatt lied, hating how easily the deception came to him now. “She sends her regrets.”

The pause on the other end of the line told him his mother wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t press. “I’ll save her some dessert. Your favorite cobbler.”

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