Page 162 of The One Month Boyfriend (Wildwood Society)

He breaks off and takes a deep, ragged breath.

“Shhh,” I say, as much to him as to myself because even though I know the right words to say to him—it wasn’t up to you, it was out of your control—I feel the exact same way.

I have the urge to sing Wyatt a lullaby, but I don’t know any. Maybe I should learn some before Levi and June have their kid.

We’re still there when Kat appears. It’s so sudden I’m afraid I’m hallucinating: one moment I’m staring into the fire and the next she’s stepping around it, the light moving across her skin like she’s something dangerous and otherworldly.

“Oh,” I whisper, to no one at all. Wyatt sits up.

“Go,” he says. “I’m good.”

I do, and then she’s in my arms and I’ve got my face buried in her hair that smells like citrus and flowers and hairspray or something. I want to tell her she shouldn’t have come. I want to crumple at her feet.

Instead, I say, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Now she’s looking up at me, and behind her glasses her eyes are smudged with black and her hair is wild, strands picking up the orange glow of the fire, giving her an infernal halo. I’d never have her any other way.

“I swore I wouldn’t leave you to the wolves,” I say. “I know how much you hate—”

“Silas,” she says. “It’s okay.”

Kat reaches up, thread her fingers through my hair, pulls my head down until our foreheads are touching.

“You must hate me right now,” I murmur. “You should.” But then her hands are on my face, fingertips skimming over my jaw, a thumb brushing my cheek. It doesn’t feel like hate.

“You’re being very dramatic,” she says, voice low. “This isn’t a soap opera.”

For the first time in hours, I smile.

“Do you ever take a break from being the way you are?”

“How else would I be?”

“Good,” I say, and kiss her, and then we stand there for a moment. The fire crackles and I can hear people talking: Levi and June, Gideon, Wyatt.

“I’m here,” she says, a little later. “What do you need from me?”