Chapter 18 #2
“I was looking up. For owls.” I scrunch my face. He’s right. I even remember reading that in my Google search, but I totally forgot.
“Owls are the least of your problems.” Wes snorts.
“Wait, were you watching the whole time?”
“Yeah, obviously. I wanted to see what you’d do.” The kettle whistles, and he pours steaming water over our tea bags.
“Next, you were so loud picking the lock with that amateur kit. Did you buy that on ?” Wes judges me hard. I refuse to nod even though he’s right. “Three, your shoes are so incredibly squeaky. Have there ever been squeakier shoes? Take them off before coming inside, wear different shoes, whatever.”
“Listen—”
“I know. You’re not a criminal.” He grabs milk from the fridge and a container of sugar from his counter. “And you don’t want to be one.” Wes throws a look over his shoulder that I can’t read. It’s almost sad.
“I mean, basically, yeah.”
“Milk? Sugar?”
“Milk and two sugars, please.”
“You also didn’t factor in animals. I happen to have a very vocal cat, but some people have dogs. You always have to bring a treat, sometimes with a light sedative.”
I drop my jaw and gasp.
“Very, very light sedative. We are not about hurting animals.”
“Fine. But I’ve already given up on my stalking career.”
“Good. I did enjoy your gift.” Wes nods to the book page art hedgehog I had placed on his counter before he knocked me out. “It’s adorable.”
My cheeks heat as he approaches and hands me a steaming tea. I accept it and wrap my hands around the warm mug. I shouldn’t have brought the hedgehog. It’s embarrassing.
“Did you make it?” Wes heads back into the kitchen to grab his own mug and the paper hedgehog, then sinks on the couch on the other side of his cat, placing my creation right next to Sir Fluffy.
Wes reaches out and mindlessly scratches his head.
The cat purrs so loudly I fear he has a whole airplane engine inside him.
“Yeah.” I nod. Might as well just admit it now while we’re in this surreal moment in time.
I’m not sure why I felt the need to share something so personal with Wes, something that Shane hated and would make fun of me for.
Maybe it was a test. Like, let’s see how he reacts to this weird thing about me.
“It’s kind of my thing. I make book page art out of old paperback books. ”
“No way.” Wes slides his mug onto the coffee table and examines the hedgehog with two hands. “What book is this?”
“That one? It was an old thriller novel. I go to the thrift store or our library sales and buy a bunch of old books that I can use.”
“You are really talented.”
Wes is definitely passing the vibes test. I shouldn’t care what he thinks about me, but obviously I do. Somehow, our little business relationship has turned very personal, very fast.
“Shane called it my stupid little hobby. He trashed all my stuff when he disappeared. The apartment was empty aside from my clothes, books, and a few other items.” My cheeks heat as I remember the moment I got home and found the apartment empty.
It was awful. “He even left my rabbit hopping around the hallway all by himself.”
“He fucked with Honey Bunny??”
I nod solemnly.
“He is really an asshole.”
“Yup.”
Wes lays an arm across the back of the couch and sips his tea, watching me intently. I squirm underneath his gaze. It’s like he’s trying to figure me out.
This guy is contradictory. He’s clearly not your average thirty-something bachelor.
Even though he lives alone in an isolated cabin on a lake, he’s got relationships with people.
He’s clearly close to his brother and integrated into the Lake Savage community.
He smiles. A lot. He loves his cat and bakes pies.
But he’s also dangerous. How easy has it been for him to drug me and tie me up?
He’s clearly an expert. A shiver runs down my spine.
I haven’t hated any of it. Which bothers me.
I’m so eager to get away from my criminal family yet I’m drawn to Wes, who must have criminal leanings.
No one knows how to drug someone and tie them up so well without having some previous experience executing it.
“How about you? Have a girlfriend?” I choke the word out, and he raises an eyebrow. “Ever been married?”
“No.” Wes shakes his head, a tinge of sadness on his face. “I’m not good in relationships.”
“Why not?”
“I can be, uh, kind of a lot, so I don’t normally even get to the relationship phase.”
“Is it the following? Tracking? Stalking? Breaking into women’s bedrooms in the middle of the night?” It’s an attempt to make him smile, but there’s an unsettled look on his face.
And I absolutely hate the idea of him sniffing around some other woman’s body in the middle of the night.
“Most women cannot look past that kind of thing. And I don’t blame them.”
“Yeah, well, most women must not understand you.” I lean over to set down the mug and pull my legs underneath me. I’m not sure why I’m feeling defensive of this man, but I am. How dare other woman judge him for his uniqueness and passion? Dedication? Loyalty?
Wait, am I saying that I understand him? Lordy.
“So what else do you make out of book pages?”
I explain to him some of my creations, my face warm with embarrassment at first, but he seems legitimately interested. Then I ask him questions about his pie baking, and he tells me more about his five-year history of ribbons at different pie competitions around Maine.
It’s only when the view of the frozen lake and pine trees becomes visible with the first light of the day that I realize we’ve been talking for hours. And that I’m exhausted.
“Do you want to crash here for a while, Calliope?” Wes asks when I yawn widely.
I consider it for a second, but I think I need a moment to process. It feels like every time I come in contact with this man, I need time to figure out what the hell just happened, and this time is no different.
“No, thank you.” I shake my head. “I’m gonna go home to feed Honey Bunny and get some sleep in my own bed.”
He nods. “I’ll drive you to your car.”
Fifteen minutes later, he hands me a hot coffee in another non-disposable travel mug—I really need to bring them back—and lets me leave as my car is warmed up and at the top of his neighbor’s driveway.
“Calliope.” Wes leans against his driver’s side door as I slide into my car.
“Wesley.”
“Thanks for stopping by.” He grins at me.
I shake my head and pull out of the driveway, glancing in my rearview mirror until I round a curve and he’s out of sight.
Last night was amazing. Wes listens to me, cares what I have to say, and seems to want to know me.
I don’t know why. He’s all wrong for me, so I need to keep reminding myself that this is just a job for him and we are at most friends.
But even as I think that, I know that it’s not quite true.
There’s more happening here. What, I don’t know.
Maybe he’s helping me move on from my marriage so that by the time Shane signs the papers and returns my mom’s ring, I’ll truly be free. Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe I’ll look back on this weird in-between time of my life like it was some kind of fever dream.
Because it doesn’t seem real.