What grabbed me about Wyatt was how ordinary he seemed until the plot peeled his layers back like the pages of a well-thumbed paperback. He starts as a quietly burdened handyman in a small coastal town, the kind of person who knows the names of everyone’s dogs and can fix a leaky roof with two nails and a joke. The story nudges him into motion when an old friend shows up with a secret that makes Wyatt’s past impossible to ignore. Midway through the book he faces choices he has long avoided: confessing to people he hurt, deciding whether to protect a crime boss who once saved his life, and finally choosing between a clean escape and making amends. The turning point is painfully human — he fumbles, loses someone he loves briefly, then finds a stubborn courage. By the end Wyatt isn’t gloriously changed overnight, but he’s quieter, steadier, and a little more honest with himself. He doesn’t ride off into a neat sunset; he sticks around, starts repairing more than broken porches, and I closed the last page feeling oddly hopeful about him.