I don’t know why I do it. Brush my fingers against Wyatt’s. Maybe to show him I’m sorry. To show him my father doesn’t have any right to be upset with him. Without looking my way, Wyatt loops his pinkie around mine. The contact, the curl of his fingers makes my cheeks rosy. Regret swallows me up. “Dad, I’m sorry.” My father shakes his head. “I expected better of you, too, Fallon.” Wyatt hisses a breath. Fuck. It feels like he’s slapped me. “Well,” my father says, avoiding my eyes. “You’re home, so let’s get you settled.”
Because you love them both!
