25. Evangeline
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
evangeline
What if I told you
I tossed the match?
Would you keep me
Or throw me back?
I t’s been thirty minutes since Wilder disappeared, since Jax came back to the table with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and told me he had to take a call from their manager and would be back soon.
I’m not stupid.
There’s no phone call.
I waited as long as I could, in case I was wrong, but finally asked for directions to Wilder’s room. Now, as I walk down a hallway toward the closed door at the end, boulders of guilt knock together inside me.
I fucked up.
When he kissed me, I reacted badly. I should have fixed it immediately. I knew he was upset, that he felt rejected. But I couldn’t bring myself to do anything about it. Instead, I let him quietly implode beside me and pretended I didn’t see it.
As great as it was to see the guys and reconnect, the familiar dynamic triggered old, defensive behaviors for me. Namely, my habit of relying on Eddie and Jax to buffer me against Wilder during the final months of our tour, when I was falling apart while he lived his best rock star life. Never choosing me, seeing me , except when we were onstage.
But that’s not true anymore. And if I believe what he’s told me, it wasn’t true then, either. He’s always seen me. Wanted me like I wanted him. He was just afraid.
I hate that I hurt him, especially after all we’ve shared. I hate even more that a twisted part of me enjoyed the reversal of our former roles. The power I had over him this time.
The admittance makes me queasy.
Dinner was a bad idea. It was too soon, our relationship too new, the potholes of our past still littering our present road.
I stop outside his bedroom door but don’t reach for the handle. Closing my eyes, I breathe slowly through my nose. It takes a solid thirty seconds for me to find the courage to open his door, and I almost lose it when I see how dark it is inside. The only light comes from the hallway and from behind the half-closed bathroom door.
A shiver races down my arms as my eyes dart around the large room. Slowly, my vision adjusts, bringing into focus a king-sized bed to my left. I can barely make out Wilder, his black-clad body and dark hair blending with the bedding.
Each step into the dark ratchets up my heart rate.
“Wilder? Are you awake?” My voice is small, compressed by guilt and nervousness.
He’ll forgive me, won’t he?
What if he doesn’t?
Wilder shifts slightly, a heavy sigh reaching my ears. I push forward until I’m fully surrounded by shadow, until my knees hit the bed. Clutching the comforter, I shuffle around the side closest to him, stopping when I see his face. The barest light from the bathroom reveals his closed eyes, but I can’t tell whether he’s asleep or pretending because he doesn’t want to see me.
“I’m sorry about earlier,” I say, my voice wavering. “Actually, I’m sorry about the entire night. I was acting like an asshole. I… I think it was just weird, being around the guys after so long.”
“It’s fine, Fairy.”
His voice is calm, his eyes remaining closed. A trickle of relief is sucked beneath the oil-slick of foreboding. Something isn’t right.
“Can I turn on a light? So we can talk?”
There’s a long pause during which I try and fail to tamp down my illogical fear response to the darkness around me, to his unnerving reaction. I glance at the bathroom, at the hallway, reassuring myself there are two points of light. Two paths to escape. But I don’t want to escape this—him. So I ignore the tingling in my feet that urges me to run toward safety.
“Can we talk tomorrow?” he asks finally.
“Tomorrow?” I echo, pushing the word past a stab of pain in my chest.
His lashes flicker and part, eyes absorbing the shadows and appearing black as pitch. “Yeah. I guess barely sleeping the last couple of nights caught up with me. Can you ask Jax to take you home?”
The apathy in his voice raises the hair on the back of my neck. “I don’t want to leave if you’re mad at me, Wilder.”
He reaches out, warm fingers covering mine where they still clench the comforter. Coaxing me to release the fabric, he pulls my hand to his mouth. Soft, warm lips press to my palm.
“I’m not mad,” he murmurs, breath puffing against my skin. “I understand why you pulled away. It’s okay. I’m just exhausted.”
He kisses my hand one more time before releasing it and rolling onto his other side, dragging the comforter over his shoulder. I open my mouth, an offer to sleep here beading on my tongue, but it doesn’t come.
If he wanted me to stay, he wouldn’t have told me to have Jax drive me home. If he weren’t mad, he would have tugged me onto the bed and into his arms. He would have turned on the lights for me.
He wants me to go.
And if I’m honest, I don’t want to stay. Not in the dark—not even for him.