Page 25 of Forgiveness River

Wyatt set his napkin beside his plate, his appetite gone. “Raven and I are going through some things right now,” he said carefully. “It’s personal.”

“Personal?” Duncan echoed. “We’re family. Since when do we do ‘personal’ around here?”

“Since now,” Wyatt said firmly.

“Boys,” Anne interjected, her tone brooking no argument. “Wyatt will share when he’s ready.”

But the dam had broken. Hank, who had been unusually quiet throughout dinner, exchanged a glance with Sophie.

“You two are awfully quiet over there,” Aidan observed, his gaze sharp. “Something you want to share with the class?”

Sophie flushed, studying her plate. Hank met Aidan’s challenging look with a steady one of his own. “Not our story to tell.”

The implication that there was indeed a story to tell hung in the air. Wyatt felt a surge of frustration—at the situation, at his inability to explain, at the concern on his family’s faces.

“Look,” he said finally. “I can’t get into details right now. Raven and I are having some…communication issues. We’re working through them.”

“Communication issues,” Aidan repeated skeptically. “Is that what we’re calling it when your wife moves out? Raven is part of this family too. We’re not just going to kick her to the curb because you’re having communication issues.”

“That’s enough,” Mick said, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “Your brother doesn’t owe us an explanation.”

“Thank you,” Wyatt said, grateful for his father’s intervention.

But Aidan wasn’t finished. “What I don’t understand is why you’re letting her go without a fight. The Wyatt I know would move heaven and earth for Raven. Instead, you’re sitting here looking miserable while she’s holed up across town.”

“You think I want things this way?” Wyatt snapped, his composure finally cracking. “You think I wouldn’t give anything to fix this? It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to us,” Duncan pressed. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re letting the best thing that ever happened to you slip away.”

Wyatt pushed back from the table, the legs of his chair scraping loudly against the hardwood floor. The frustration that had been building for weeks threatened to boil over. These were the people he trusted most in the world, and he couldn’t tell them the truth either.

“Wyatt,” Blaze’s voice cut through the rising tension, commanding attention the way he did as sheriff. “Sit down.”

Something in his cousin’s tone made Wyatt comply, though his hands remained clenched at his sides.

Blaze looked around the table, his expression serious. “I think it’s time I stepped in here.” He met Wyatt’s eyes. “As sheriff I have a responsibility to not just the people of this town, but to those who help keep it safe. That includes Wyatt, who’s been coordinating with my department as part of his DEA duties. And I’m not bound by the same level of secrecy. There’s a time and place for it, but there’s also a time when it’s foolish.”

Wyatt hesitated, then nodded slightly. As sheriff, Blaze had been briefed on certain aspects of the operation—not everything, but enough. And unlike Wyatt, he wasn’t bound by the same level of confidentiality.

“Wyatt is involved in something important,” Blaze said, addressing the family. “Something that requires absolute confidentiality for the time being.”

“What, like a case?” Duncan asked, confused.

“I can’t go into specifics,” Blaze continued. “But what I can tell you is that your brother is doing something vital for this community, and it’s put him in a difficult position personally.”

“And Raven doesn’t know about this…something?” Hattie asked, catching on quickly.

“She can’t know yet,” Wyatt said quietly. “That’s the problem.”

Understanding dawned on several faces around the table. The O’Haras were no strangers to duty for country and family. Even their ancestor who’d settled in Laurel Valley more than two hundred years before had been the first lawman in the area.

“How much longer?” Anne asked, her voice gentle.

Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t know. Soon, I hope.”

A thoughtful silence fell over the table. Then Simone, Tommy’s wife and Blaze’s mother, who had been listening intently, spoke up. “I’ve noticed some strange characters at The Lampstand lately. Not our usual tourists. Men who sit for hours nursing one coffee, watching everyone who comes and goes.”

“I’ve seen them too,” Mick agreed. “And there was that group camping up by Redemption Falls last month—had all the gear but didn’t look like they’d ever set foot on a hiking trail before.”

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