Chapter 21 #3
I still had my body wash next to the spigot because Wes had no bubble bath.
Pumping in a few handfuls of soap, I moved the water around, letting the bubbles froth up.
Once the tub was halfway full, I stripped and settled inside, then made room for Wes.
He adjusted us so I was in front of him, leaning against his chest, while he caged me in with his legs.
Once the tub was full, I turned off the faucet with my toe.
The quiet settled around us, and it was peaceful, comfortable. I shut my eyes and relaxed in the firm chest at my back, relishing when his strong arms came around me.
“You met Silas,” Wes rumbled into my neck, and my eyes popped open.
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.
“When did that letter arrive?” His voice was hard as a rough stone, grating against my nerves as I wondered at his reaction. He was acting like he’d never heard the words in the letter, and something inside me both sank and rose with hope.
With an unsure voice, I tugged at the terrycloth of the robe. “I told you…exactly two weeks after we broke up. It was your handwriting, Wes. The return address was from you.”
That’s why I believed it was from him. It was his handwriting.
“Fuck!” he screamed, throwing a water glass that was on his bedside table against the wall. It shattered on impact making me jump and Max bark.
“I never sent that. I’d never say those words to you, Callie. In what universe would I ask you to move on?” He pointed aggressively at his chest, seething in anger. “In what world would I tell you our love wasn’t real?”
My nose burned, because I didn’t want to believe it was him who sent it. I was in denial for so long, rereading it every night, trying to find the lie within the lines of text. But the more I questioned it, the more I realized it had to be him. But if it wasn’t, then…
“Never once did you call, or text…or anything, Wes. It left me no choice but to believe that letter.”
“Because I couldn’t have you until I was sure I could offer you a life you didn’t want to leave,” he screamed, making me recoil.
Striding forward, he gently rubbed my shoulders. “I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m sorry I yelled; I just don’t understand what the fuck is going on.” It wasn’t him yelling that had made me recoil. It was his desperation to get me back.
“Me either…I mean, why would my dad leave me a piece of property that was owed to a rival club, knowing it would put a target on my back?”
If I thought Wes was angry before, it was nothing compared to the storm brewing in his dark gaze now. With a harsh whisper, he asked, “What did you just say?”
I gripped his forearms, not wanting him to leave. “Silas told me. It was the bargain my father made when I was kidnapped. The property, once my dad passed on…he gave away my inheritance to Dirk, and he said now that my dad is gone, the debt falls to me.”
Wes searched my face, like he couldn’t process what I’d just told him. He stepped back once, twice, and then fell to the edge of the bed. He cut a path through his hair with his hand, while he concentrated on the floor.
“Where are the letters you said I sent you…the ones from over the past few years?”
I was still holding them, but he seemed too lost in thought to register that I was. I brought them forward, lifting them until Wes was carefully taking them from me.
He crinkled his brows, inspecting the outer note left by my dad.
Dear Callie,
Forgive an old man for meddling, but I have a lot to apologize for…
a lot of regrets, and what role I played between you two is one of them.
These are letters I found shoved in the bottom drawer of Wesley’s rolling tool bin, something he never intended for you to see. But I think you should. Love, Dad
Wesley’s face paled as his grip tightened on the letter.
“Do you know what he’s talking about?” I asked, unsure at his odd reaction.
Wes merely glanced up at me before flipping the page over, reading it out loud.
“I moved out of the cabin today. Packed up all our stuff and took a room in the clubhouse. I’m next to Giles, and he’s not so bad…
just always talks and he’s always with someone at night.
I think that’s the loneliest part, River.
Everybody has someone, but you’ve been my person since we were nine.
My best friend. My only one. How am I supposed to just turn that off? ”
His face flushed as he lowered the page to his knee.
I stood, biting my nail, nervous that he was about to say that wasn’t from him either, but he swallowed, and glanced up at me shyly.
“This one is from me.”
Before I could react, he flipped to the second letter, voraciously pulling it open, reading the note from my dad first.
“Callie, hope you’re well, I’ve been feeling a little under the weather. Things are pyling up here, my hands are shit, my eyes are going to hell, but I can’t shake this feeling yyyou need to see Wes. has to say to you.”
“The spelling errors in those are weird. If he didn’t know he was sick until six months ago, then that letter would have been three years ago. The timeline is strange,” I mused, as Wesley bunched his brows as he reread the page.
Wes clenched his jaw, reading the portion he wrote out loud.
“River, you started an apprenticeship to become a tattoo artist. I’m both excited and nervous, and a little jealous.
How did I never know you wanted this? You’re so talented.
I wish you’d design me a tattoo. I wish your hands would draw it permanently onto my skin.
More than anything, I wish I could live there, under yours. ”
I sunk to the seat next to him, tiring from standing and watching.
He read letter after letter. Confessions of him watching me from afar, tiny truths that he’d never really left me.
He’d been there the whole time, waiting and watching.
The notes from my dad became more and more poorly written.
The last one I received was almost indecipherable.
“Callie, this mghtyyy be the lst one tht I wryyyte but I luv u- myyy grl, I myyyss yyyou. Pleeese gyyyve him a secnd chnce.”
Wes stared at the note, then sifted back through the others.
While he wasn’t touching any of the letters he’d sent, he was laser focused on the loose notes that my dad had jotted his thoughts on.
So much so, he suddenly jumped up and ran toward the bedroom door, freeing it of the dresser.
I followed him, his big robe weighing me down as I watched him pull out a pen and click on the lamp over his desk.
He smoothed out the notes from my father, circling different words in each one.
“What is it?” I asked, trying to see what he was seeing.
He wrote the letter y three times, then circled it. Then he found another word, and another, while sifting through the notes.
“Son of a bitch!” Wes finally declared, straightening his spine.
“What?”
Wes spun around, his eyes searching my face frantically.
“I think he’s trying to tell us something.”
My brows dipped. “Tell us what?”
Wes stormed back into his room, grabbing a pair of jeans and tugging them on.
“There’s only one way to find out. If you want to come, you need dark clothes, and you can’t be afraid to get dirt on them.”
Puzzled, I walked into my side of the closet and began looking through my stuff.
“Why?”
Wes turned me until I was facing him, then he kissed me. His tongue pried my lips open, tasting me as he deepened the kiss. Within seconds we were panting, then he released me.
“Because we’re digging up a grave.”