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Whitley was folding laundry in the clinic’s small facility when she heard familiar footsteps on the hardwood floor.
She looked up without even thinking to, some part of her body always attuned to the sound of Wyatt now.
He appeared in the doorway, hat brim pushed up, looking at her at the way he had a hundred times over the past few weeks—his steady, warm gaze fixed on her face as if he was just waking from a dream and found she was real.
And it hit her.
Oh god. I love this man.
Not only liked him. Not merely appreciated the things he’d done to help her. It wasn’t about the safety and trust she found in his arms.
She couldn’t imagine a day when they didn’t lean in their doorways and share news about their days. She loved him completely and without question.
The small flame in her chest she’d been carrying for weeks bloomed into an inferno that felt as though it had always belonged there.
She set the towel down and slowly turned to him. Each second of time she didn’t tell him what was in her heart was wasted time, and she’d wasted so much already.
“Whitley?”
“I have feelings for you,” she burst out before she reached him. The confession spilled out of her in a messy tumble, far from how she wished it sounding. “I don’t even care if you don’t feel the same. I just—I need to say it. Life’s too short to sit on things like this. I could end up back in those mountains tomorrow, running for my life again, and I’d hate myself for never telling you.”
His expression shifted from incomprehension to thunderstruck, and his eyes grew dark and intense. In three strides, he closed the gap between them and grabbed her by the waist, holding her close.
“If you end up in the mountains,” he rumbled, low. “I’ll find you. No matter where you go, I will find you, Whitley. I don’t care how long it takes or how far you run. I’ll find you.”
Her breath caught. For a moment, she could only stare into his eyes, lost in the depths. “And you feel…?”
He pinched her chin gently between his thumb and forefinger, lifting her mouth to his. “I love you too,” he breathed against her lips.
A soft sound burst from her, her last guarded piece released from the bonds she’d placed it in. With a hard surge, she crushed her lips against his.
His firm mouth softened and he took control, kissing her with a passion that swept her away. His warm fingers pressed into her spine, sending shocks of need to her core. With a cry, she rubbed against him and burned at the feel of his stiffness between them.
Then she realized how tight he held her. Almost too tight.
She cradled his jaw and searched his eyes again. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She watched the glimmer of desire shrink in the depths. The air sucked out of her, and she dropped flat onto her feet. “What aren’t you telling me?”
The softness in his gaze evaporated. Her stomach dropped through the floor when he didn’t immediately deny it.
“The FBI wants your statement about the murder,” Wyatt said. “In person. In their office in Cheyenne.”
He said it fast, like ripping off a bandage.
“And they won’t let anyone go in with you.”
The floor seemed to tilt beneath her. She felt the blood drain out of her face, felt her knees go loose, and some distant part of her registered Wyatt stepping closer, hands half-raised like he was ready to catch her if she went down.
“Alone?” The word came out thin, barely more than a breath.
“Alone.”
Panic tore through her. “That can’t happen.”
She didn’t wait for him to explain more—she rushed out the door and hit the exit before he could catch up. Fury propelled her feet faster than fear ever had.
