Chapter 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
WESLEY
I didn’t even drink last night and yet I feel just as shitty as if I did.
The sunrise is just beginning to peek above the horizon, and I soak it in. Quiet moments of peace in my mind are rare lately.
I rub my hand along my scruff before taking a sip of hot coffee from my thermos.
There’s a hint of sweet vanilla and I can’t fight the small smile that pulls at the corner of my mouth, knowing Sadie picked the flavored coffee grounds last time she went shopping.
I actually like it, but I won’t say anything.
What’s the point? She thinks I don’t notice, anyway.
There is not a reality in existence where I wouldn’t notice her.
Last night, she was loud and clear when she was grinding all over Nate Keller.
She’s moving on.
Message received.
I wish she just would’ve let me fucking explain. I wish a lot of things were different.
I’m still pissed at Emmett for telling her before I got the chance. I really had meant to tell her that morning when I found out it was Samira’s family that requested me, but when I handed her the roundup sheet, she was so fucking beautiful—I saw an opportunity to be with her and I took it.
If I’d have known she was going to come see us off, I would’ve told her sooner.
I wasn’t hiding anything from her. Not intentionally.
How could she think me being with her was a mistake?
All I want is to tell her the truth. To be able to tell her that I love her too.
She caught me off guard when she confessed it, breathless and raw, while I was buried inside her. And I got scared.
How could I not?
From the very beginning, she said this was just a summer fling. No feelings. And like a fucking idiot, I agreed, knowing even then I wanted more.
What would I even be fighting for? A few more weeks of fucking in secret before she leaves forever?
Her going back home was always the plan.
Maybe she was right, and ending it now was better than letting it go on any longer than it should’ve.
She’s leaving and I’m staying. That’s how this was always going to end.
I’m not going to California. What a fucking joke that would be.
My job is here. My house. My whole fucking life is here. For now, at least.
I wish she would stay. But how could I ask that of her? To uproot her entire life to be here with me?
She’s made it perfectly clear these last few weeks that she has been—and will be—just fine without me.
I was ready to move on and respect her decision, but last night changed that. Because she still listens to the playlist from that night. Our playlist. That has to mean something, right?
I’m not letting go of that one remaining shred of hope—and I think she’s holding on, too. I saw it glimmer in her eyes when I accidentally touched her thigh in my truck. Maybe this isn’t over yet.
I’m mid-sip when Emmett busts through the screen door, letting it slam hard behind him. He holds a boot out far away from his body, grimacing. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of sweatpants as his bare feet pad across the porch.
My brows pinch together as I study him.
He’s never up this early.
I usually have to pound on his door to wake him up and get the day started. He’s been better about it since Sadie got here, though. Like he’s trying to impress her and it’s the only way his underdeveloped brain can come up with.
Men do stupid things to get the attention of pretty girls. I would know.
I have to turn my head and look away as he proceeds to dump an obscene amount of what I can only assume to be vomit—given the consistency—over the side of the porch.
The splatter of it hitting the ground makes me feel sick to my stomach.
“Jesus Christ, Emmett,” I say, unable to hide the disgust in my tone. “You couldn’t make it to the bathroom, eight feet away from your bed?”
He tosses an unamused look over his shoulder as he shakes the remaining bits out of his boot.
“Chill out, man. It’s obviously not mine,” he mutters, glancing back at the door like he’s waiting for someone to walk out and overhear us. “I didn’t even drink that much and I can handle my liquor just fine, fuck you very much.”
I raise my hands, backing off. “Alright, then whose puke did you just pour out of your boot? Did you call a girl over after we got back?”
He moves to the outdoor spigot and twists the water on, glancing at the door again.
“Dude! Keep your voice down,” he hisses. “I didn’t call over some random girl, alright? Dad would kill me for doing that in his house.”
He takes a deep breath and lowers his voice to almost a whisper. “Sadie is the girl, okay? I don’t want her to hear you out here talking shit and making her feel worse than she already does. She was really fucking upset last night.”
I think he keeps talking but his words are distorted—muddled and distant.
I’m completely numb. My fingers tingle and I feel sick, like my body is rejecting his words, refusing to believe them.
My thermos slips out of my hands. The loud crash it makes when it meets the porch snaps me back into my body.
Coffee splatters everywhere, a tiny river running along the grooves in the wood floorboards.
“Wes! What’s your deal, man? How are you supposed to hold onto the reins with those butter fingers?” he says in a teasing tone, bumping his shoulder into mine. He picks up my thermos and rinses it off after he finishes with his boot.
But I’m a millennium away from being in a joking mood.
Sadie was the girl.
She was with my brother last night.
In his room. In his bed.
They were drunk and alone in his room while I was on the other side of the wall.
No matter how many times I say it in my head, it still doesn’t feel real.
I never heard anything. I would’ve heard them if they’d done something, right? I would’ve recognized the sounds she makes.
Emmett snaps his fingers in front of my face. “Can you not say anything to Dad about this? I don’t want her to get in trouble. Especially after everything with Lane.”
The shitty older brother inside me wants to deck him in the face for sleeping with my girl. Anger bubbles beneath my skin and my ears heat from the pure rage pulsing through me.
But she isn’t mine anymore. She never really was.
So instead of throwing my fist in my brother’s face, I steel my emotions, clear my throat, and give him a small nod. “I won’t say anything. No worries.”
And because I’m apparently a masochist, I can’t help but ask: “So are you guys, like, a thing now?” I give my best attempt to keep my tone casual.
He turns his head over his shoulder again, a wide grin spread across his face. “Didn’t you see us in the truck when you ripped the door open all moody and pissed off?” He sets the rinsed thermos on the side table next to me.
I shake my head.
No. I didn’t notice anything in the truck. I was too busy restraining the all-consuming urge to knock the fuck out of Nate Keller for putting his hands on her.
I did think it was a little unusual when Emmett carried her out over his shoulder, but I thought she was too drunk to walk or was just being a brat about leaving. I was too caught up settling our tab with Brant to pay much attention.
This is so much worse than her dancing with Keller.
Emmett flashes one of his usual goofy grins and winks, grabbing his boot and heading back inside. Back to Sadie.
She’s probably waiting for him in his bed. Tangled in his rumpled sheets like she used to be for me.
A lump forms in my throat and I try to swallow it down.
Yeah. This is a lot fucking worse.