Fade Into You (Shaken Dirty #3)(55)

She tried to think, tried to push through all the pain his words had brought forth in her, tried to think past the sorrow and the horror she felt for him—for the little boy who’d watched his father die and been unable to stop it, and for the man who had never been able to forgive himself for something that wasn’t his fault.

If she was piecing things together right—things he’d told her and things she’d read online—he must have been a baby when the tractor thing happened. Maybe five or six at the most. Old enough to remember. Definitely old enough to be traumatized by what had happened. But certainly, certainly not old enough to be responsible for it. To be blamed for it.

She prayed it wasn’t true, prayed his mother hadn’t taken out her sorrow over a tragic accident on her already traumatized son. But even as she prayed, she could see it in Wyatt’s eyes. Could read it in the torment on his face as she cupped his cheeks in her hands and pressed kisses to his cheeks, his chin, his lips—wherever she could reach.

“It’s not your fault,” she told him in between kisses. “None of what happened is your fault.”

He shook his head. “It is—”

“It’s not,” she told him fiercely. “Not one bit of it. You were a child—”

“That doesn’t matter. Children do a lot on farms, way more than they do in city households. He’d taught me how to work the gears. He’d showed me what to do and I panicked. I couldn’t—”

“You were five years old. No five-year-old could have been expected to stop that machine. And no five-year-old should have been blamed for it, especially not by his mother.”

“It wasn’t her fault—”

“It was her fault. Not your father’s death—that was nobody’s fault. That was a horrible, horrible, horrible accident, and I am so sorry you had to be there. So sorry you had to see it and live with it and carry it around with you—” Her voice broke, but she shoved the tears back down. She could cry later, deal with her own emotions when he was gone. Right now, she needed to make him understand. “But Wyatt, baby, what happened to him is not your fault. No one who wasn’t grieving or seriously disturbed would ever, ever blame you for what happened that day.”

“I blame me. I didn’t stop it. I didn’t—”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know—”

“I do. I do know.” She grabbed his hands, pulled them to her mouth. Kissed each one in turn. “It wasn’t your fault,” she told him again.

“Stop it,” he said, voice hoarse and shattered. “Just stop—”

“It wasn’t your fault. What happened to your father. What happened to your mother. You were a child—”

“I was awful. After my father died, I was always acting up in school. I started sneaking my mom’s whiskey when I was eleven. I didn’t make it easy for her. I—”

“You were a child. A traumatized, distraught child and it was her job to make things easy for you, not the other way around.”

“You don’t understand.” He shook his head, started to back away. But she was holding on to his hands and she wasn’t letting go.

“I do understand. I do. And I’m so sorry, Wyatt. I’m so, so—”

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me! I didn’t tell you so you’d feel sorry for me. I told you so you’d understand what a f*cking loser I am. What a f*cking, f*cking mistake I am—”

“You are not a loser.” She grabbed him then, wrapped her arms around his neck and dragged his mouth down to hers. It wasn’t a passionate kiss, wasn’t a tender kiss. It was fierce and angry and desperate and sorry and so many other things that she didn’t know how to put into words. So many other things that he wouldn’t let her say. “You are not a mistake. You are one of the strongest people I have ever met. I can’t imagine the nightmares you’ve gone through, but you’re here and you’re sober and somehow, despite everything, you’re such a good man.”

“I’m not—”

“You are,” she told him, her hands clenching on his biceps. “Ryder can see it. So can Quinn and Jared and Jamison. And me. I can see it, Wyatt. The way you’re always willing to sacrifice for your friends. The way you stand up for them. The fact that they all come to you for advice.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks now despite her best efforts, and she paused just long enough to wipe them away. “And the way you treat me. You’re always so gentle with me, so kind and careful, even though I’ve pretty much been nothing but a total pain in your ass since I got here. The way you got clean, when it had to have been so hard. So awful.

“You are a good man, Wyatt. The very best kind of man, and I’m so, so sorry that you’ve been hurt so badly. So, so sorry that you can’t see it. Because I can, and you’re beautiful. You’re so beautiful.”

“Stop,” he told her, even as he pulled her back into his arms. Even as he pressed desperate kisses to her mouth. Even as he held her tight, tight, tight against his chest. “Just stop. I hear what you’re saying, but I can’t take any more right now. I just can’t.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay.”