Chapter 40 Vale #2
“I mean I don’t…I don’t want to want you,” I amend quickly.
His eyes fling to mine, rounding with some emotion I can’t place.
Jesus fuck, why did I say that?
Throat tight, I steel myself for what I’m about to do next, knowing it’s for the best. For both of us. He might not be able to see it…not when he’s so dead-set on punishing himself; I see that now. And it’s what prompts my next words.
“And you don’t want me either. Not really.”
The space between his eyes bunch, and he’s shaking his head.
Visibly gearing up to protest. His mouth opens, and I hold my free hand up, stopping him with a firm look.
“You’re chasing something that not only doesn’t exist…
but something that will only hurt you in the long run. And before you ask why I care…”
He knows what I am…
And he didn’t run screaming.
It’s enough to solidify my resolve.
“Because it affects me. My life. My future. I can’t…be what you’re looking for, not without damning myself in the process. And I can’t be what you need either…because I’m not capable of that,” I say meaningfully, searching his reddened gaze to ensure he understands.
He might not be willing to acknowledge what he needs—I see that now. Spent all fucking night and day rolling over what I learned last night, reconciling it with everything I thought I knew. Everything I told myself in an effort to paint him out to be the real villain in this story…
So I wouldn’t have to face the truth.
A fate as cruel and vicious as it is real.
More real than anything else.
More real than Aston St. James can mentally handle.
“I—” For a moment, words fail me. Me. Who the fuck is this person right now? Who am I? Shaking my head with a scowl, I level a glare on him that has everything and yet nothing to do with him.
His fault, his fault, this is all his fault…
“I don’t have to do the right thing here. I really don’t. You have no fucking idea how badly I want to do the wrong thing,” I grit out, boring my gaze into his. “So, consider this a debt paid. We’re even.”
Something flickers in his gaze, wild and dangerous and knowing.
“I forgive you.”
This time, his flinch is internal. I see it play out on his expression. The way his eye twitches, almost like he’s in pain. The flash of panic and sense of abortabortabort reflected in his glassy gaze.
The sight throws me back to last night, when I had him facedown in the dirt, fucking him with all the hatred I’ve carried these last six years. Until I thought I might kill him if he didn’t stop me. Until I thought I might kill us both if he turned me into him…
Into them…
Into just another weak, sick piece of shit who couldn’t take “no” or “stop” for an answer.
“Move on, Aston,” I tell him gruffly, making my way back over to the door. “You got a second chance at life. Take it. And leave the past behind.”
Leave me behind…
“For both our sakes, just…please leave me the fuck alone.” The knob creaks in my grip. “I swear I’ll do the same.”
With ringing finality, I spare him one last look, duck my head, and slip out of his room, gently closing the door behind me. Ignoring the way my skin prickles and chest tightens as if protesting the distance. The way my instincts screech and claw at me to turn around, go back, claim what’s mine.
All the way down the hall and down the stairs, Quentin’s parting words from last night thrash around my skull as if they could burst free and prove somehow useful.
Useful, and not what they currently are: pointless to an agonizing degree, like every-fucking-thing else in my life, despite what I have to tell myself to get through each monotonous second of every monotonous hour of every monotonous day.
“You are not empty, Vale…you’ve just been empty of someone like Aston…”
He’s wrong…he’s wrong…
I am stronger than my base needs.
Stronger than my urges.
Stronger than this hollowness that would rather see me buried six feet under than go another day without feeling how I feel when I’m with him.
Downstairs, I find Jennings’ wife rounding the bannister. We both freeze mid-step when we spot each other.
“Vale…right?” she says warily, the wheels in her green eyes visibly turning. Her gaze flits down to the balled up pants clenched tightly at my side.
I try not to think about what taking them will do to him.
I try not to be fascinated by the prospects.
I try not to think about the way his voice cracked, betraying him…and how close I was to handing them over.
It’d just give him another reason to keep hanging on…
I clear my throat. “Yeah. I just came over to check on him, see how he was doing after last night,” I tell her, and it’s not even a complete lie, despite how much I wish it was.
“Right…” She says faintly. Nodding, she inhales deeply, crosses her arms, and says, “Thank you for that, by the way. Coming forward. Doing the right thing.”
I lift a shoulder, hands stuffed in my pockets, unsure what to say. I don’t know what Aston told her about me—if anything. Obviously, after last night, she knows something happened between us.
I can only assume he hasn’t told her about our shared history.
I’m sure she’d have a much stronger reaction to me showing up here like this…to us having contact at all…if she knew.
Cocking her head, she studies me with a pursed look that has me frowning and studying her more closely. From her short stature and tiny frame, to the brown roots and green eyes.
“Is he okay?” she asks, and I don’t miss the crease in her eyes. The…concern and something else. Something more pointed that has my hackles rising, eyes narrowing. “After last night, I’m worried he’ll—” She stops herself, averting her gaze and shaking her head.
I’d ask what she’s worried about, but I already know.
She’s worried what happened last night will bring back bad memories.
Memories better left untouched.
Add in me coming here, leaving things the way we did, the way I left him…
“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I say carefully, eyeing her closely. “But I’d keep an eye on him.”
Her head snaps up at that, eyes rounding with something akin to shock. Not so much at my words, but at the bite in my tone I couldn’t be bothered to suppress.
Leaving her standing there, gaping and confused, I brush past her, and quickly let myself out.
Unable to shake the last image I have of him, curled up on the bed, looking more dejected and vulnerable than ever…
And the sudden churning, blood-boiling feeling that I just left Aston in a wolf’s den...
I manage to make it only a few steps away from the porch, when with a muttered string of curses, I find myself turning around, and setting the hastily folded sweatpants on the bottom step.
Nothing.
This changes nothing.