Free In Honor by Jessi Kirby Page A

looked over at me, and his gentle brown eyes searched mine for some sort of reaction. There really had been a moment there with him, beneath the blue of the water, but it wasn’t the kind of moment he meant. I didn’t say anything, but managed a feeble smile and a nod, and when I felt the lump rise at the back of my throat, I knew I couldn’t trust my voice.
    Wyatt’s eyebrows drew together, and he dipped his chin into the water, blew a few bubbles. Sam and Corrie looked from me to each other, and I knew I was acting odd. I knew I should have been giddy and laughing like they were when they surfaced. I should have been elated and proud that I’d tried something so out of my small range of experience. I should have smiled or squeezed Wyatt’s hand, which still held my own. But all at once, I wanted to get out and go far away from the possibility of losing it in front of them all. I didn’t want to cry over Finn in front of them—in front of anyone, for that matter.
    For a long time after our parents died, I cried a lot. Anything set me off, and nothing anyone said or did made it any better—except for Finn. He knew what to say, or what not to say. And he never cried. Not that I ever saw, at least. He was the strong one of the two of us, and if I gave in and let myself cry for him now, there’d be nobody there to stop it.
    I let go of Wyatt’s hand and looked over at the ramp we’d used to get in. He nodded wordlessly, and we made our way to the edge together, leaving Sam and Corrie floating in the middle of the blue. When my toes scraped the rough stone of the bottom, I stood slowly, avoiding Wyatt’s eyes, and began to unhook myself. My fingers fumbled when they got to the buckle of the weight belt around my waist, and I clamped my lips together, angry at this little thing that was about to break me.
    “Here.” Wyatt’s hand stilled my own. “I’ll get that one. It jams sometimes.” I let my arms fall at my sides, and he unclicked it easily, then bent down and forced me to meet his eyes. Water droplets still clung to his face. “You seem like you’re not okay.”
    I bit the inside of my cheek and looked down. “I’m sorry. That really was beautiful, and you . . . it’s just . . .”
    “It’s all right.” He bumped my shoulder gently with his. “I have that speechless effect on a lot of girls, really.” I smiled but didn’t say anything. When he spoke next, it was softened, sincere. “I’m really sorry about your brother, Honor. I’d be a lost wreck if something like that happened to Sam. But you seem strong to me, which means you’re probably doing things right. Like I said, people deal with stuff in all different ways, and maybe you’re someone who needs to keep moving. . . .” He kind of trailed off, maybe realizing what that meant.
    My eyes went to his, and I felt a rush of gratitude for Wyatt. For the second time, he had said the right thing at the exact moment I needed it. I didn’t know how he could understand, but that didn’t really matter.
    “Thank you” was what I said, but there was so much more behind it, it didn’t seem enough. I wanted to tell him that he was the kind of person you don’t meet very often—one who is good and kind and really sees people. The kind I wished I’d met under different circumstances, when I wasn’t in the middle of a ridiculous road trip, with Rusty tagging along, and an impossible goal. The kind of guy I might have fallen for without a second thought.
    Instead, I stood on my tiptoes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and whispered it again. “Thank you, Wyatt, for saying that, and thank you for . . . this.” I gestured at the water behind him. “It was perfect.” His arms came around my waist and, despite the coolness of his skin, wrapped me in solid warmth. Where the general’s arms around me had communicated a respect and shared grief, Wyatt’s were comfort and compassion. And I wanted to stay like that as long as I could, because I