Wyatt let out a low chuckle, shaking his head at the memory.
He smirked, but the warmth in his expression softened it, a rare thing that only Rosalie ever seemed to bring out in him.
Her next words, though, sobered him some. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking off a few stray snowflakes as he listened to her talk about moderation. The concern in her voice settled deep in his chest, somewhere between guilt and gratitude.
His tone was teasing, but there was an edge there, something rougher beneath the surface. He waved a hand, brushing it off before the conversation could dig too deep.
At her indignation over his breakfast comment, he chuckled again, a little more genuine this time.
But it was her next words that really stopped him short.
I will always care. I don’t know how not to.
Something about the way she said it—so simple, so certain—made his throat feel tight. He swallowed, eyes trained on the snowy path ahead, letting the cold bite at his skin as if it could pull him back from whatever emotion was threatening to take hold.
Then she asked the question. The one that settled into his chest like a weight.
Wyatt let out a slow breath, watching it curl into the night air before he finally answered.
He shifted, rolling his shoulders like he could shrug off the heaviness in his voice.
His fingers curled into fists inside his coat pockets.
He hesitated for a second before answering the last unspoken part of her question, a wry smirk tugging at his lips, though there wasn’t much humor in it.
His smirk faded, replaced by something more unreadable. He glanced at her then, his amber eyes searching hers, as if trying to figure out why she’d even ask.
The teasing lilt was there, but there was something else underneath it—something quieter, something unsure.
Hell, I remember that. Thought I was real clever back then, keepin’ that book just outta reach. Didn’t count on you bein’ more stubborn than a mule in a rainstorm.
He smirked, but the warmth in his expression softened it, a rare thing that only Rosalie ever seemed to bring out in him.
Why’d I do it? Guess I just liked seein’ that fire in you. Still do.
Her next words, though, sobered him some. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking off a few stray snowflakes as he listened to her talk about moderation. The concern in her voice settled deep in his chest, somewhere between guilt and gratitude.
You sure you ain’t my mother? ‘Cause that sure sounded like somethin’ mine would say... back when she still had words for me.
His tone was teasing, but there was an edge there, something rougher beneath the surface. He waved a hand, brushing it off before the conversation could dig too deep.
Alright, alright. I’ll try not to drink myself stupid so often. No promises, but... I’ll try.
At her indignation over his breakfast comment, he chuckled again, a little more genuine this time.
Best baker, huh? Guess I’ll be the judge of that in the mornin’.
But it was her next words that really stopped him short.
I will always care. I don’t know how not to.
Something about the way she said it—so simple, so certain—made his throat feel tight. He swallowed, eyes trained on the snowy path ahead, letting the cold bite at his skin as if it could pull him back from whatever emotion was threatening to take hold.
Then she asked the question. The one that settled into his chest like a weight.
Wyatt let out a slow breath, watching it curl into the night air before he finally answered.
Ain’t much left of my past worth holdin’ on to, Rosie.
He shifted, rolling his shoulders like he could shrug off the heaviness in his voice.
Had a family once. Ain’t seen ‘em in years. Don’t reckon they’d be all too pleased to see me now, either.
His fingers curled into fists inside his coat pockets.
Friends? Yeah, I had those too. Most of ‘em are dead. The rest... well, let’s just say we ain’t on writin’ terms.
He hesitated for a second before answering the last unspoken part of her question, a wry smirk tugging at his lips, though there wasn’t much humor in it.
Lovers? Now that’s a different story. Had a few, sure. Some I walked away from. Some walked away from me. Guess I ain’t exactly the keepin’ kind.
His smirk faded, replaced by something more unreadable. He glanced at her then, his amber eyes searching hers, as if trying to figure out why she’d even ask.
Why? You think I got someone out there losin’ sleep over me?
The teasing lilt was there, but there was something else underneath it—something quieter, something unsure.
02-11-2025, 10:28 AM
