Page 27 of Forgiveness River

Anne nodded, accepting this. “And Raven? Is she safe?”

The question hit him squarely in the chest. Was she? With Moss potentially watching her, with the operation approaching its most dangerous phase, could he really guarantee her safety?

“I’m doing everything I can to make sure she is,” he said finally.

His mother studied his face, then reached up to touch his cheek, the gesture achingly tender. “When your Uncle Tommy first went into special ops, Simone didn’t hear from him for months at a time. There were missions where he couldn’t tell her where he was going or when he’d be back.”

Wyatt nodded, familiar with the stories of his uncle’s military service that had inspired Blaze and his siblings to follow similar paths.

“Simone told me once that she was so angry,” Anne continued, surprising him. “She felt shut out, like Tommy didn’t trust her enough to include her. One night, she packed a bag and was halfway to her parents’ house when she realized something: his silence wasn’t about a lack of trust in her. It was about protecting her from a burden she didn’t need to carry.”

She turned back to the sink, rinsing another plate. “Sometimes, the most loving thing we can do is carry our heaviest burdens alone, so those we love don’t have to. But Wyatt?” She looked at him again, her blue eyes serious. “Don’t carry them alone for too long. No marriage can survive that indefinitely.”

“I’m trying, Mom,” he said, his voice rough with emotion.

“I know you are, sweetheart,” she replied. “And so does Raven, deep down. Give her time.”

Time was exactly what he wasn’t sure they had. But he nodded anyway, accepting the comfort his mother offered.

As goodbyes were exchanged in the driveway later, Wyatt found himself hugged tighter, clapped on the shoulder more firmly, looked at more intensely by each family member. TheO’Haras took care of their own—that had always been their way. Tonight, he felt the full weight of their support, even without them knowing the details of his struggle.

Colt pulled him aside before he left. “She’s okay,” he said simply. “Comes and goes at regular hours, keeps to herself. Zoe’s been checking in on her.” As the town’s doctor, Colt had the perfect cover for keeping an eye on Raven without raising suspicions—his apartment above the medical clinic provided both privacy and protection.

“Thank you,” Wyatt said, grateful for his brother’s discretion and care.

“Whatever this is,” Colt added, “I trust you’re doing the right thing. But when it’s over, you might need to grovel spectacularly to win her back.”

Despite everything, Wyatt smiled. “I’ve already got plans for that.”

“Good man,” Colt said, clasping his shoulder.

As Wyatt drove home, the weight of the evening’s revelations settled over him. The operation was accelerating, Moss was watching Raven, and in three days, everything would come to a head. The risks were mounting on all sides.

On impulse, he turned his truck toward town instead of heading home. A few minutes later, he found himself parked across the street from Colt’s clinic, looking up at the apartment windows where a soft light still glowed. Raven was there, so close and yet completely out of reach.

His hand hovered over his phone, tempted to call her again. To tell her everything. The operation, Moss, Kwan, the danger—all of it.

But Agent Kwan’s warning echoed in his mind: “Operational security isn’t just bureaucratic protocol—it’s what keeps people alive.”

People including Raven.

With a heavy sigh, Wyatt put the phone down and started the engine again. Three more days. If he could keep the operation intact, if he could bring Moss down, if he could make it through without compromising either his mission or Raven’s safety—then maybe, just maybe, he could begin to rebuild what his secrets had broken.

As he drove away from the softly lit window, Wyatt made a silent promise: When this was over, he would do whatever it took to win back his wife’s trust—if she would still have him.

Chapter Twelve

The afternoon sunpoured through the front windows of Raven Layne Boutique, casting prisms of light across the designer silks and cashmeres. Raven’s fingers paused on the hem of a turquoise maxi dress she was adjusting on a mannequin. Her shoulders ached from the tension she’d been carrying for days. For weeks. For months.

“Go take a break,” Tess said, approaching with a knowing look. Her twenty-two-year-old assistant manager had an uncanny ability to read Raven’s moods. “You’ve been here since seven this morning setting up the summer collection.”

Jennifer looked up from the register where she was ringing up a customer’s purchases, her dark hair pulled back in a neat French braid. “Tess is right. Between the two of us, we can handle the shop for an hour.”

“It’s peak tourist season,” Raven protested, though the thought of escaping the boutique’s walls, even briefly, tugged at her. “The afternoon rush?—”

“Will be managed beautifully.” Tess made a shooing motion with her hands. “I’ve been working here three summers now, and Jennifer can sell ice to Eskimos.”

“It’s a gift,” Jennifer agreed with a smile, handing a signature silver-wrapped package to the beaming tourist. “Besides, you trained us well. We can survive without you for a little while.”

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