Page 16 of Desire Him

“Fine.” She picks up a washcloth, dips it in the soapy water, and rings it out. She passes it to him. “Wipe the table down.”

Wayne takes the cloth from her and heads back into the dining room, scrubbing and swiping at the table. Val watches him for a moment before beginning the dishes. When she’s done with the cups, Wayne makes his way back to Val’s side, finds a towel, and begins drying the cups.

They work in silence, Val passing him each dish after she washes them and Wayne stacking the dry dinnerware off to the side. When all the dishes are washed, she pulls the plug on the sink.

“Val?”

“Hmm?”

She moves to wipe down the counter, but he stops her with a gentle hand wrapped around her upper arm. She freezes, reluctantly meeting his eyes with hers. She finds nothing but sincere curiosity there. “Tell me.”

Her neck pops when she rolls her head. “Tell you what?”

“Don’t,” he says softly. He raises a hand to cup her cheek. His touch lights a fire inside her, and she works not to fidget. What it means to her isn’t the same for him. This she knows. This she has to remind herself. “Don’t feed me that line of shit. Tell me what I did.”

And there it is, she thinks to herself. But she’s too weak to fight him on it, too exhausted and drained. “We . . .” She gulps, wondering how much she should give away, how much of her broken heart she should give him. “Last night, you said things to me. And then we did things that can’t be taken back. And then this morning, you don’t remember any of it.”

He cocks his head to the side and frowns. “What kind of things did I say? What kind of things did we do?”

Her mouth goes dry, and she swallows hard for a second time. “I told you that I loved you. And then you took me to your bed.”

A silent moment stretches between them as they stand there, his hand still on her cheek. She can tell he doesn’t know what to say. She can tell he’s shocked into silence. So she says, “There are some things you cannot take back.”

“Val, I-”

She shakes her head, and he drops his hand back to his side. “Don’t. It’s done. It can’t be taken back, and now I know where I stand when it comes to you.” She gives him a watery smile. Pushing past him, she goes to work on the counter, scrubbing harder than necessary.

“What can I do?” She knows he isn’t talking about helping in the kitchen.

“Nothing. What’s done is done,” she repeats herself. The front door opens, and she can hear Draven talking to Becca as they enter the house. “You should go upstairs with the others. I’ll finish up here.”

He stands there for a moment, and she almost believes he’s going to confess something, but then she guesses that he thinks better of it. He strides away and climbs the stairs with Becca and Draven.

She pauses in her cleaning and sighs deeply, wiping away a stray tear while she’s at it. There. She told him. Now she can move on.

Inside, her wolf whines. She looks to the right and spies the bottles of alcohol. She needs at least one drink to wash down her sorrows. She picks up the bottle of rum and takes out a glass. “Logan won’t mind,” she says to the empty kitchen, pouring herself a glass.