I wet my lips. “It wasn’t for me either.”

“So then you two have feelings for each other.” Sanders motions between the two of us.

“Um, I mean⁠—”

“Yes,” Wilder says. “I have feelings for her.”

I look in his direction and he nods.

“I do, Pips. I have feelings for you.”

“I do too,” I say shakily. “You know I do.”

“Then why are you having Denise, I’m assuming, come to pick you up?”

“Because I’m scared,” I answer honestly. “Really scared. I shouldn’t have feelings for someone I just met, and here I am…thinking about you all the time, loving being next to you, wanting to see your handsome face whenever I get a chance. I don’t…I don’t want to get hurt, and everything I’m feeling right now is setting me up for that.”

“Are you going to hurt her?” Sanders asks Wilder.

He pauses for a moment, his eyes moving between me and Sanders. Then, in an uncertain tone, he answers, “I don’t want to.”

And that right there…that’s the problem.

That single answer pushes a wave of insecurity through me.

He’s an honest man, I know this about him. Yet he doesn’t seem to give a definitive answer when asked about relationships. It’s an “I don’t want to” or “I think I want that.”

I can’t work with “I think.” I need to know exactly what he wants.

“But you think you might?” Sanders asks.

Wilder looks me in the eyes and then glances down at his hands. “I don’t want to.”

And that’s the answer I was looking for.

That’s the answer I needed.

I like him a lot.

I do.

But until he can figure out what he wants…I can’t risk it. Which means I’m also extremely thankful for what we’ve had. I wouldn’t have learned as much about myself had I not spent this time with Wilder. I wouldn’t have learned that it’s okay to say no to uncertainty. I wouldn’t be able to walk away even if it hurts.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

WILDER

What the hell is wrong with me?

The minute I said it, I knew it was the wrong answer. It was almost as if I could feel Sanders’s internal groan, telling me, “Wrong answer, you fool.”

Trust me, I get it.

“I’m going to go,” Scottie says as she stands. “I need to pack.”

“Scottie,” Ellison says, standing as well.

Scottie turns to her, and I can see tears forming in her eyes.

“Don’t worry about this. I understand the pressure you were under to fit in, and it takes a lot of character to recognize when you were wrong. Take the next few days off, and I’ll see you in the office on Monday.”

“Really?” Scottie asks.

“Really.”