Page 72 of A Brambleberry Summer

Rosa had basically ordered him to keep his distance and told him she wasn’t interested in a relationship. He had tried his best. For a week, he had worked long hours at his house so that he and Logan could move out as soon as possible. The whole time, he had done his best to push her out of his head and his heart.

It hadn’t worked.

The moment Jenna had called him in a panic, the moment he knew they were in danger, Wyatt had realized nothing had changed. He was in love with Rosa and would move heaven and earth to keep her safe.

He pushed open the beach gate and found her there, just beyond the house. She was sitting on a blanket on the sand, her arm around Fiona and her back to him as she watched the sun slipping down into the water in a blaze of color.

She didn’t hear him come out at first. Fiona did. The dog turned to look at him, but apparently decided he was no threat because she nestled closer to her human.

He moved across the sand, still not sure what he would say to her, only knowing he had to be close to her, too.

He saw the moment she registered his presence. Her spine stiffened and she turned her head. He couldn’t see her expression behind her sunglasses.

“Oh. Hello.”

“Here you are. I was worried about you.”

“Yes. We are here. The sunset seems especially beautiful tonight.”

He had to agree. Streaks of pink and purple and orange spilled out in glorious Technicolor. “May I join you?”

She hesitated. He could see her jaw flex, as if she wanted to say no, but she finally gestured to the empty spot on the blanket, which happened to be on the other side of her dog.

He would have liked to be next to Rosa, but this would do, he supposed.

“Where are Logan and Hank?”

“They were both with Carrie when Jenna called me. After Carrie heard what happened to you and found out I was part of the investigation, she insisted they stay the night with her.”

“Ah.”

He reached out and rubbed her brave, amazing dog behind the ear. His hand brushed against Rosa’s and it hurt a little when she pulled her hand away.

“How’s Fiona?”

“Fine. Dr. Williams said she might be a little bruised, but nothing appears to be broken. I am to watch her appetite and her energy over the next few days and tell her if I see anything unusual.”

“You’re a good, brave girl, aren’t you?” He scratched Fi under the chin and the dog rested her head on his leg.

All the emotions he had put away in the heat of the moment as he did his duty and stood for justice seemed to come rushing over him again, all at once.

“What you did—protecting your friend. It was incredibly brave.”

She gave a short laugh. “I think you mean to say stupid.”

“I would never say that. Never. You were amazing.”

He reached for her hand, unable to help himself. He thought she would pull away again, but she didn’t. Her fingers were cool and seemed to be trembling a little, but he couldn’t say whether that was from the cool coastal air or from the trauma of earlier.

She drew in a breath that sounded ragged, and before he quite realized it, she let out a sob and then another.

Oh, Rosa.

His poor, fierce Rosa.

Fiona, blessed Fiona, moved out of the way so that Wyatt could pull Rosa into his arms. He held her while she cried silently against his chest, not making a sound except the occasional whimper.

His heart ached for her, both for the fear she must have felt and for everything else she had endured.

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