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Stroking down his arm, I asked, “Is it true that he was there that night?”
“He and Sasha are the reason no one touched you. They protected you, without even knowing you. When I broke in, they helped me get you out. Not all Death Raiders agree with the direction Dirk has taken things.”
I tried to piece together a new story based off what Wes was saying, painting Silas in a light that didn’t have his brash words or rude tone, but it wasn’t easy.
“I know I owe them my life, but Silas was a bit of an asshole to me.”
Wes laughed, and I loved the way it felt against my back, but to teach him a lesson, I yanked on his leg hair.
“You can’t laugh at him being an asshole to me.”
“Owwww! Shit, River.” He laughed even harder, pulling me tighter against him. Then with a gentle kiss to my ear, he softly said, “You can’t go places alone. I know this is temporary for you, but I promised your dad I’d keep you safe.”
I stared up into the clouded window above the tub, seeing strokes of gold and orange infuse the glass. The sun was setting, and it created a dreamy glow inside the room, but as much as I wanted to sink into the moment, Wesley’s words gave me pause.
I pushed off his chest and turned on my ass, needing to see his expression.
“Is it really just about keeping a promise to my dad?”
His gaze slid over my features, and when I assumed he’d break, he seemed to fortify instead. His jaw set and his hands left the water, going to the sides of the tub. Somehow the move made him seem distant and cold, and instantly had me reconsidering our moment out at the river.
“You’re leaving, and I refuse to get used to you being here. Or the idea of keeping you. It’s not personal for me, it’s physical. I mean, fuck, this is all I’ve wanted for seven years, but it can’t be more than that.”
Fuck that hurt.
Even though I was apprehensive about that being his answer, I still didn’t expect it to come out of his mouth. Not after what I read in those letters, and seeing our past pinned up in his garage, not after the way he held me this afternoon. There was more, and he was just a chicken shit.
“So you don’t have feelings for me?” I slid to the opposite side of the bath, annoyed at how sensitive I still was—sore. He had the audacity to say this to me after we’d literally just fucked on the back of his bike?
Wes tilted his head, clenching his jaw, “Why argue about it when you’re leaving the second you sell? It doesn’t matter.”
It absolutely mattered.
Without thinking, I blurted, “What if I didn’t leave, what if I stayed?”
He scoffed, “I’d say, for how long? You’ll stay for a year, or until the club gets under your skin again. Then you’ll leave. This is a waste of time. I want to enjoy what we can have while you’re here, and when it comes time to let you go, I will.”
I pushed loose strands of hair off my face with a shaky hand, belatedly realizing this conversation was frustrating me on multiple levels. Why was he being so stubborn? Why wasn’t he acting like the old Wes who would tell me we could make this work? I wasn’t sure I was ready to stay, but I had done a lot of growing in the past seven years, and with each new day I was in Rose Ridge, I realized I missed home. I could have a life here and still be free of the club.
I was mad, and all I wanted to do was lash out and hurt him, so I did.
“Should have probably mentioned I’m not on birth control at the moment, so that might ruin your little, ‘fuck her and let her go’ plan.” Without another word, I stood and sloshed water all over the place while exiting the tub.
I didn’t even get a towel as I walked into his room and headed for the satchel I’d put those letters in. I wasn’t ovulating, so there was little chance I’d even get pregnant. Still, it was shitty of him not to ask, and wrong of me not to offer. Reckless on both our parts.
I dripped all over the floor, and it was messy and wet, so I grabbed a random robe, tying it off before stomping back out into the room.
“You said you didn’t send these”—I held up the bundle of letters my father had sent— “that they weren’t from you…but they were, just like the one you sent two weeks after I left.”
Wes tied a white towel around his waist. He looked subdued, and reflective, almost like a small piece of hope had floated through him and now he wasn’t sure how to get rid of it.
“What are you talking about? I didn’t send you a letter after we broke up.”
It was my turn to scoff, because that letter was a fucking doozy.
“Let me summarize it—Dear Callie, I think you did the right thing by leaving. You always were the brave one of the two of us. I think now that I’ve had time to clear my head, I realized what we had wasn’t love, it was pity. From the start, all I did was pity you, Callie. So, I hope you find it in your heart to love again, and you move on with someone who loves you in ways I never could—sound familiar?”
Anger radiated from Wes. With jerky movements, he tore the towel off his hips and pulled on a pair of clean boxers. It wasn’t until he paced the edge of the bed a few times that he finally said something.
