Page 21 of Where We Began

“I guess I am.” I like him, but I don't trust him. Wyatt has worked for the Bradleys since before I arrived. He won't tell me how old he is, says it's rude to ask, but I can guess he's at least my dad's age. That's too much time being loyal to Silas and Annie for my comfort.

He scratches his cheek with a garden-gloved finger. “Fine. Keep your secrets, I don't care.”

“Watch the pouting,” I tease, offering him one of the biscuits. “I bring gifts.”

His sun-browned skin creases by his mouth. “This your way of saying you want something from me?”

“Oh, Wyatt.” A light laugh bubbles from my lips. I feelso good.“You let me come in here whenever I want, you even let me help feed the deer. You've already given me more than I could think to ask for.”

The man's salt and pepper eyebrows dip over his shining blue eyes. He knows I'm being genuine. On the day I met him, he guided me deep into the preserve. In a quiet clearing, surrounded by bird song, he gave me a handful of pellets. To my amazement, a doe appeared from the brush. Wyatt coaxed it to nibble from my palm. I knew then that this place would keep me sane until I could be with my family again.

And now it's time to say goodbye.

There wasn't much I'd miss about the estate. But this was one of them.

The other was...Stop. Don't think about him.I hadn't seen a glimpse of Dominic since the day he left for school. He never returned for breaks, or vacation, or just to check in on me. There were no letters. Nothing.

I'd only known him for three weeks so, by logic, there wasn't much to dwell on. Yet I still did, especially when it was just me with my thoughts buzzing in the middle of the night.

“You alright?” Wyatt asks, biscuit crumbs sticking to his tan work shirt. “Got a far away look in your eyes.”

I shake myself. “I'm fine.”

“Then eat your food so I don't appear rude.”

Grinning, I take a huge bit from the soft bread. We finish eating at the same time. I didn't bring anything to drink. With easy familiarity, I go over to the water pump by the gate. He wipes his hands on his stained pants then pumps water while I crouch down. Holding my hair out of the way, I drink straight from the spout. It's shockingly cold, hurting my teeth and filling me with energy.

Rubbing my forearm over my mouth, I sigh. “Perfect. Thanks for helping.”

“Not a problem.”

My attention goes to the shovel. “What are you digging?”

“Trench for the rain that's coming.”

Scanning the sky, I shield my eyes. “But it's so sunny!”

He shrugs, jamming the tip of the shovel into the ground. “Storms are on the horizon, trust me. Rain can really soak through this preserve. It makes the ground too soft for the tree roots, causes them to rip out in the wind.”

I nod with admiration. “Can I help?”

His sharp shoulders shrug. “You ask like you expect me to say no this time.”

Flashing a smile, I grab a spare shovel from the small shed by the water pump. I know where everything is. He's right, he's never told me I can't help. Whether it's digging, or weeding, or hoisting heavy brush to be cleared, I'm eager to do it. Physical labor warms my soul.

Two hours later I'm splattered with soil. Sweat sticks my thin cotton shirt to my body, and I've torn holes in the black yoga pants that I constantly wear. Annie is probably sick of seeing me in them. She updates my wardrobe every few months with new dresses or silky tops, as if to passive aggressively point out that I have options. If she wanted to remove all my active-wear clothes, she could. She hasn't yet.

I stab the shovel next to the trench. “Whew. Okay, I need to go shower.”

Wyatt chuckles dryly. “Got plans tonight?”

He's so close to the truth that my heart skips. I wonder if he sees the guilt in my eyes. Or the twinge of regret that comes when I think about never seeing him, or this tiny forest, again. “Hey,” I say, too thickly. I clear my throat. “Thanks for everything. It means the world to me that you share this place with my stupid face.”

His eyes soften. I wonder if it's possible to sense the gravity of my silent goodbye; I come so close to breaking and telling him everything. He blows air between his chapped lips. “Sharing this little gem with someone who appreciates it is my pleasure. Honestly.”

Unable to hold back, I grab him in a tight hug. Before he can respond I'm running out the gate, waving over my shoulder. It worries me that my mask almost broke. I can't be so reckless, emotions be damned.

As I'm jogging over the expanse of grass, heading towards the house, I see movement. There's a car in the winding driveway—cobalt blue, not a mark on its elegant surface. I don't know the model but it's expensive.

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