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I tilt my head, watching him. “But—”
“No.” His voice is firm. “There’s absolutely no way I’m leaving you alone like this.”
“Have you thought that maybe Athelia doesn’t want you to stay?” Kellan asks.
“Don’t care.”
“Do you want us to force him out of here?” Cal asks me.
“I…” When I think about him staying, dread curls through my stomach. But when I think about him leaving, icy fear grips my heart. I don’t think I should be alone right now. “I don’t know.”
“I’m staying,” Wes grits out. “Now close her curtains and get out.”
Both Kellan and Cal look like they want to protest, but they don’t. Before they leave, Cal fusses over me much more than he needs to. It annoys me, but a small part of me basks in his attention.
I haven’t forgiven them—I don’t know if I ever will—but seeing their regret and hearing their apologies is helpful. Even if we were only friends for a couple weeks before everything went south, I felt such a strong connection to them back then. Part of me wants to be able to get back to that point. A very small, very hurt part.
Once the guys are gone, Wes stands and undoes his pants.
Panic shoots through me. “Wait—no, Wes, I don’t—”
“I’m not gonna touch you. Well, I will, but not like that. I just don’t want to sleep in jeans.”
“Oh,” I breathe out. My muscles instantly relax, and I close my eyes as I settle back into bed.
Wes crawls in behind me. He carefully pulls me into his body and strokes my damp hair back from my face.
“I should kick you out,” I say quietly.
“Wouldn’t leave even if you did.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Don’t care.”
“Well, you should.”
Wes stiffens at the coldness in my voice. Then he sighs. “I do care, Athelia. It’s why I’m staying.”
“Even if I told you I didn’t want you here? How is that caring?”
He scoffs. “Maybe I faded from your mind, but you never left mine. Not even for a damn second. I obsessed over you, watched you, craved you. I know you inside out, Athelia Harper, and the last thing you want right now is to be alone.”
“You watched me?” It’s not the correct detail to focus on, but I can’t help myself.
“Whenever I could.” He sounds pained as he says it. “Whenever I wasn’t around you, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Fucking stupid, I know. But after that first night, it was like I needed you. But then Kammes told me that you’d used me, and I—”
“Used you?”
Wes is silent, so I turn around to face him. I have to lay on my bruised side, and when he sees the pain in my eyes, he flips me over so I’m on my back.
“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t hurt yourself more.”
“Then tell me what you meant.”
Wes settles so he’s on his back and staring up at the ceiling. “When I was a kid, my mom used me as an excuse to get close to Kammes. He was my baseball coach—she enrolled me specifically so she’d have some type of excuse to be around him.
“They fooled around together for years behind my dad’s back. He was killed when I was in high school, and my mom and Kammes got married quickly after. It made me so goddamn angry.”
