Page 165 of On the Breakaway

“Does she want you there?”

“I think so.”

He raises a brow. “Think?”

“I’d say yes, but normally I’m not showing up at two in the morning.” I sink lower into my seat, fingers tapping against the armrest.

He watches me, waiting for me to cave the way I always do when I need to talk.

I sigh. “I just fucking miss her.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

I glare at him. "Can you stop saying okay?”

Wyatt’s expression shifts. “How deep are you?”

“Pretty deep.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It kind of is.”

He shifts in his seat. “How deep?”

I look out the window because saying it out loud feels bigger than I expected.

Every dinner, fight, and late-night conversation. The way she smiles when she forgets to be scared. The way she reaches for me in her sleep. It all plays through my head constantly.

I swallow. “I’m so fucking in love with her it hurts to not be able to show it.”

His expression goes completely still before he drags both hands down his face. “You’ve been sneaking around together for like five minutes.”

“Longer.”

“How long is longer?”

“Um, February, maybe January, depending on the way you look at things.”

“You’ve been hiding this since fucking January?” Wyatt’s eyes go wide. “Didn’t you swear off this kind of thing?”

“I tried to.”

“Because you kept trying to change people and relationships into what you wanted them to be, instead of wanting them as they were.”

The smile drops off my face instantly. “This is not like that.”

“It seems like that.”

“I think she loves me too.”

Wyatt studies me for several seconds, then sighs. “Thinking it and knowing for sure are two very different things.” He leans back in his seat. “You should be careful.”

The doubt that lurks in the back of my head echoes his words. I can’t blame him.