Page 86

Tap, tap, tap.

My stomach swoops. I’m pushing off the bed and quietly scurrying across my room before I know what I’m doing, careful to avoid the floorboard by my desk that squeaks when I step on it.

Wiping my eyes, I blink, still not sure what I’m seeing. At first, I think it’s just a shadow, a series of shapes put off by the dying light. But then suddenly—thrillingly—the shapes come together to form a whole.

Oh my God, it’s a cowboy.

It’smycowboy, and I’m so fucking happy he’s here that I want to yell.

He’s crouching on the roof, knees bent, heels up. He’s wearing his cowboy hat, because Wyatt is always wearing his cowboy hat. His hand is raised, first finger bent against the glass.

Even hisoutlineis handsome. Because that’s all I can see with the sun behind him like this—the broad expanse of his shoulders, the slant of his wide neck, the thick curve of a bent knee.

He gives me a little wave when he sees me approach. I can’t breathe.

My pulse is wild as I unlatch the window and pull it open, a gust of cold air greeting me. Without the glare of the glass between us, I can finally see his eyes.

They’re bright. Full.

The concern in them is crystal clear as they rake over my face. “I knew you were upset. Why didn’t you tell me?”

He keeps his voice low.

So do I when I say, “Why are you here?”

“Can I come in?”

“I’m okay.”

“Quit lyin’.”

I wrap my hand around his forearm. “Of course you can come in. Think you can fit through the window?”

“I’m notthatmuch bigger than I was in high school,” he says as I help him through the window.

He is though. His shoulders barely clear the window frame, and when he straightens to his full height, he looks like a giant in my low-ceilinged bedroom.

When was the last time he was in here? Ten years ago? More than that?

More cold air rushes in behind him. He smells minty, like the wintergreen gum he definitely chewed on the way over here. He closes the window, then turns back to me. I watch through a film of tears as he takes my face in his hands and thumbs them away.

“I came because I had a feeling something was up with you,” he whispers. “I came because I shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. I ain’t gonna be the reason you’re cryin’ alone in your room. That stops tonight—you hear me? I wanna take care of you, Sal, but I can’t do that if you don’t talk to me. Did I hurt you? Are you sore, or…”

I can’t find words. Or air. My blood thrums inside my skin, my pulse marking a frantic, uneven beat.

Now. Now. Now.

Wyatt is showing his hand. Offering another glimpse behind the mask.

It’s time to show my cards. To admit that I lied when I told him I only wanted sex. I’m too in love with him not to be totally, completely honest.

“I’m not hurt, no.”

“Okay…”

“I know I asked you for transcendence,” I begin, and Wyatt laughs quietly. “Like, transcendence in the sexual sense. Sex—that’s all I asked for. And I genuinely thought I’d be okay with just that. But today—tonight—don’t get me wrong, Wy, it was great. Best I’ve ever had. Somehow though”—I shake my head—“it didn’t feel like enough. And I should’ve said something, but I was terrified of making a foolof myself or, you know, scaring you off by beingthatgirl. The one who wants to date after hooking up once.”

“Twice.” A muscle in his jaw tics. “We been together twice now. And you ever scare me off before?”