Chapter 15 Wesley #3
“I don’t know what the right thing to say is,” I admitted quietly. “I don’t think there is one. And I know there’s nothing I can say or do to make it better.”
His jaw tightened, his eyes glistening, but he kept staring at the wall like I wasn’t allowed to see him.
I leaned forward, trying to catch his gaze. “But I need you to hear this, doll. None of it makes me think less of you. None of it makes me disgusted by you. If anything, it made me realize that you’re so much stronger than I thought you were.”
His lips parted, but no sound came out. Just a shaky exhale, his fingers twisting in the sheets like he didn’t know where else to put the tremor running through him.
I wanted to pull him into my arms, to shield him from everything, but I didn’t want to push. So I stayed there, close enough he could reach for me if he wanted.
“You don’t have to talk about it tonight,” I said softly. “Or tomorrow. Or ever, if you don’t want to. I’ll never push you into that. I just…” The words snagged in my throat, but I forced them through. “I just need you to know I’m not going anywhere, okay?”
His lashes fluttered, a tear slipping free, tracking silently down his cheek and into the divot of his collarbone. He still wouldn’t look at me, but his hand moved—just barely—sliding out from the blanket to brush against my thigh, tentative and fragile.
I covered it with mine.
We sat like that, both of us at a loss of how to move forward, the quiet somehow more bearable with our hands linked in it.
His hand was cold under mine. Too cold. I rubbed my thumb across his knuckles, slow and steady, like maybe I could coax some warmth back into him.
The silence pressed in on us, thick, but I didn’t rush it. I didn’t want him to think I needed words from him, not when he’d already bled out so much just by letting me see those photos.
So I just kept talking, tightening my grip on his hand, not letting him slip back into himself.
“I know I can’t erase it. I wish to God I could, but I can’t.
Fuck, and I’m so sorry for having you go into that house.
I would’ve never sent you in if… if I knew.
I’m so fucking sorry I didn’t see it before.
But I promise from now on, I will never put you in that position ever again. I’m so sorry, doll.”
That cracked something—his lips trembled, a tiny sound breaking out before he could swallow it back. His fingers flexed against mine, gripping tight like he didn’t even mean to.
Finally, finally, his gaze dragged to mine. His eyes were raw, red, wet. “Why?” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Why would you want to stay? You—you said ‘from now on.’ But why? After seeing… that?”
My chest ached so sharply it nearly buckled me.
I leaned in, brushing strands of hair from his forehead with my free hand. “Oh, babydoll… Because it doesn’t change who you are to me. Not one fucking bit. You’re still you, Ro. You’re—you’re something special to me, doll, and nothing will change that.”
His breath hitched like he didn’t believe me, like he couldn’t. But he didn’t look away this time. His hand stayed in mine, clutching hard enough to hurt.
For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of his breathing. I rubbed my thumb against the top of his hand, trying to soothe him.
Just when I thought he was done with our conversation entirely, his voice rasped out, so faint I had to lean in to catch it.
His gaze was unfocused, somewhere far past the wall.
“My parents… I think they saw something, maybe even had proof of something Elias had done. I guess it probably had to do with the trafficking stuff. They weren’t even police, just regular people, so they must have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time…
I still don’t know a lot of the details.
Elias never told me about what really happened.
I mean, a few details here and there, but I wish I knew what my parents had on him. ”
My throat went dry. “Ro…”
He shook his head once, sharply, to keep me from interrupting. “Elias went there to kill them. I don’t know if he planned to…” His jaw tightened, a muscle twitching. “to hurt Henri and Lia or me. But we were all there that night. And… and he saw me and…”
The words hung heavy between us. My stomach twisted, bile burning the back of my throat.
“I was the only albino in my family,” Ro continued softly.
“I guess he thought I looked rare or exotic, and he… well, he likes to own things that no one else has.” His breath stuttered, but he kept going.
“You’d think whoring me out would go against that, but I think he sees it as loaning his toy out for others to play with.
” He stopped there, lips pressed tight, his whole body taut as if he said any more he’d break into pieces.
I lifted my hand, cupping the side of his face. “You don’t have to tell me the rest,” I whispered. “Not until you’re ready. And even if you’re never ready, that’s okay. I’ll support you no matter what.”
His eyes flicked to mine for a second, glossy and pained. Then they fell shut, and he leaned into my palm, just barely, as if testing if it was safe.
Ro’s words still echoed in the silence between us, excruciating, cutting edges I couldn’t smooth over.
His hand shifted against mine, uncertain at first, then tightening. “Wes,” he whispered, voice small in a way I’d never heard from him. “Will you… just hold me? Please?”
“Yeah, doll, of course.” My chest constricted as I slid closer, gathering him into my arms. He curled into my chest without hesitation, his head pressing under my chin. I kissed the crown of his head.
For a while, I only held him, breathing with him, trying to comfort us both. My hand stroked lazy circles over his back, memorizing every bone.
But a thought gnawed at me, heavy and relentless, and finally I forced the words out, asking hesitantly, “Ro… can I ask you something?”
He made a faint sound of assent, not moving.
I swallowed thickly. “Have you ever been uncomfortable with me? With anything we’ve done? If there’s ever something you’d rather I not do—anything at all—I need you to tell me. I can’t stand the thought of—” My voice cracked. “of being another man who hurts you.”
His head tilted back just enough for his eyes to meet mine. “No, Wes,” he whispered, fierce despite the tremor in his voice. “Never. I’ve loved everything we’ve done. Every touch, every kiss.” His fingers fisted weakly in my shirt. “I feel safe when you touch me.”
My chest broke wide open at that, raw and aching. I pressed my forehead to his, eyes squeezing shut. “What about the slapping and choking? It doesn’t trigger you?”
“No. I mean, maybe it should, but it doesn’t. And believe it or not, I was never choked before, but you did it that first time, and it just… made everything still. Like being underwater, in a way. And I really, really like it.” A pretty flush spread across his face.
I smiled at that. “Just make sure to use your safeword if you need to. Promise?”
“Promise. And Wes…”
“Yeah?”
“You will never be like them.”
I kissed him then, tenderly, lovingly even—although I wouldn’t dare to say those words yet—and held him tighter, as if I could keep the whole world from ever laying another hand on him again.
Another question came to mind—one I was almost afraid to ask. Not because the answer mattered to me, but because I didn’t want to bring up any more memories tonight.
“Ro… I should’ve asked before now, but… would you like to be called by your birth name? Andreas?”
He tensed for just a second before relaxing back into me. “ I-I don’t know. I should know. I just… I need to think about it. Is that okay?”
“Of course. You can take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”