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I sniffed. But unable to lie, I blundered out, “I mean, I’m sure I want things. I’m a guy; I can’t stop my brain from going there. But I don’t want anything in return for what I’ve done. That’s not at all why I did any of it—I don’t expect anything from you, or need any form of payback, except, you know, rent every month and maybe your fair share of cleaning, cooking, and grocery shopping.”
She stared at me so long after I answered that I started to squirm inside, wondering what she was thinking, how she was judging me. But then she nodded slowly and said, “That’s an awesome, believable answer. Thank you.”
I blew out a relieved breath too soon because, in the next second, she asked, “So, then why do you help me out so much?”
“I…” My breath stalled in my lungs. I honestly didn’t know how to respond. So I finally just blurted, “I don’t know. I can’t seem to help it.”
“So, you’re just a helpful kind of guy.”
I cringed. “Not really.”
When that made her frown, my brain scrambled to come up with something—anything—to explain what I went through every time I did something for her. “I don’t know how to describe it. I just… Ever since that moment in Izzy’s room when you turned to me, and you needed someone there to help you, I don’t know. I…I… It did something to me. It was like you handed me this huge, monumental responsibility to look out for you, and I… I dropped the ball.”
“My God, Wick. I’m so sorry. I never meant to make myself such a burden and responsibility to you.”
“You didn’t. I just…took it on as such, anyway.”
“And besides,” she went on. “You did not drop any ball. Are you crazy? You’re the one thing that’s gotten me through since then.”
I was?
“But I felt like I messed up,” I insisted. “You didn’t see how wrecked you were. You fell apart in my arms, and after a while, nothing Izzy or I said to you processed. I couldn’t…” Shaking my head, I blew out a breath. “I just couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t help you. And I think I’ve been trying to make up for that ever since.”
“Jesus, Wick. Is that honestly what you think? That you failed me?”
“Well.” I shrugged. “Yeah. Because I did.”
“No,” she growled. “You most certainly did not. It wouldn’t have mattered what you or anyone else did that night; I was going to fall apart. No matter what. Nothing could’ve stopped it. It was what you and your sister did afterward to help me so I could get back up again that I needed. You did absolutely everything right.” Leaning forward in her seat, she reached for my hand and squeezed. “Don’t ever think you failed me.”
But I did, I wanted to argue. In so many ways it was pathetic.
Her thumb brushed across my bruised knuckles, and a shiver consumed me. Need throbbed through my veins with a heavy yearning that made my mouth water and skin tingle.
I pulled free of her grip to stop it.
“I’m going to get started on the dishes,” I said, pushing to my feet and picking up my cleared plate.
“Oh no, you’re not,” Haven argued, popping up alongside me. “You cooked. I will clean.”
I shook my head, needing to keep busy so I could ignore the antsy pulse of desire that was spiking through me. “It’s fine. Really. I can—”
“Wickham Webster,” she charged sternly and pointed toward the exit. “You get out of here right now. I have kitchen duty this morning.”
Blowing out a breath, I sniffed and gave in. “Okay, fine.” Lifting my hands, I backed away. “You win.”
She nodded gratefully. “Thank you. Just please don’t get too mad if I put something away in the wrong spot.”
“I can show you—” I started, until she pointed at me and frowned, which shut me up mid-word.
Then, with a wink, she smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”
19
Wick
I retreated to the living room, where I paced for about five minutes, listening to her in the kitchen, running the water and clanging pots around, and not because I was obsessively, compulsively worried she would put the pans away in the wrong cabinet.
I felt exposed now. She had exposed me. But what the hell had I been thinking to admit to her how responsible I felt for her? That sounded creepy even to my ears.
