This is why they say hope is evil. It lures you in with the illusion of what could be, only to keep it forever out of reach.
I can’t worry about what it means that he touched me like that. That he whispered those things in my ear.
Wesley and I will never be more.
And that reality hurts more than any cruel words Lane could say.
By the time we pull into the main house, I realize the numbness I’d been chasing found me all on its own.
Wesley shifts into park and cuts the engine. Emmett and Lydia, who had fallen asleep, slowly come to. Landon mutters something about a bucket of water as he swings the door open and hops out. Lydia tosses her head back in laughter as she climbs out after Emmett, tripping over her own feet and snorting when Emmett catches her.
I’m still buckled, frozen in my seat.
Wesley fidgets with the keys and the truck rocks slightly as doors are slammed shut.
The laughter fades, swallowed by the night as they funnel into the house.
It’s just us, and he still won’t look at me. He hasn’t said a word, and only when my lungs feel like they’re going to burst do I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
The silence should feel like a relief after the noise consuming my every thought, but it doesn’t. It feels like drowning.
Say something. Anything.
I turn my head slowly, watching him in the dark. The angle of his jaw. The tension in his shoulders. I can’t read him. And I hate that.
Does he feel what I feel?
Does he regret what we did?
“Wesley.”
It comes out softer than I mean it to. A plea more than a word.
He still doesn’t look at me. But his grip tightens on the keys, his chest rises with a slow breath. Then, finally—finally—he speaks.
“I’m sorry.” His voice is rough. Quiet.
My throat tightens. “What for?”
He turns his head a fraction. Not enough to meet my eyes. Just enough to keep me waiting.
“I wanted to say something. I wanted to—I wanted tokill himfor talking about you like that.”
I blink hard, staring at his profile in the dark. “Why didn’t you? Say something, I mean.”
He exhales through his nose. “Because if he’d have kept going, I would’ve hit him again, and if Landon hadn’t stepped in…I don’t think I would’ve been able to stop.”
His words land somewhere deep. A place that aches to be defended—to be chosen.
The silence stretches again. But it’s changed now. Warmer.
“He was wrong.” His voice drops to a barely audible whisper. “You matter to me, Sadie.”
My heart catches. I want to believe him. I want to reach for him.
He finally looks at me and it’s enough to make my chest cave in. His amber eyes are so heavy with guilt it feels like it’s pressing down on me too.
It’s too much.
