Page 13 of Salvation

Wesley

Irub my forehead as I stare down at the pile of papers covering the entirety of my desk. While I love the bar and all the work that comes with it, the endless paperwork is one thing I always dread and always try to push off, leaving me with mounds of work to catch up on when I do come in.

I’m writing down a couple of dates I need to remember when commotion from outside my door draws my attention. I hear shouting from Harper, and then a flash of blonde enters my vision as Blake comes busting through my office door, looking disheveled.

Harper trails in after her, looking slightly concerned. “Sorry Wes, I have no idea who she is-"

“Harper, it’s fine,” I wave her off with a hand. “I know her.” Her eyes widen, and she looks at Blake, putting two and two together.

“Why the hell didn’t you just say that?" Harper questions quietly, raising her brows. When Blake doesn't respond, Harper shakes her head and leaves, closing the door behind her while muttering under her breath. My eyes land back on Blake, her large chest bouncing as she breathes heavily. Slightly damp from the onset of rain outside. I try not to dwell on how erotic it looks in her tiny white tank top and flushed pink cheeks.

Did sherunhere?

“Look who decided to come crawling back. Get lost?” I quirk an eyebrow before looking back down at my papers, not really seeing anything. I scribble a couple of random numbers on my notepad. It’s easier than looking at what’s right in front of me.

“I didn’t get lost.” She snaps. Her breathing slows just a bit, but her chest is still rising and falling faster than what's probably considered normal, so I stand and go to take a step around the desk, but seeing my intent, she takes one step back, causing me to halt.

“What the hell is wrong?” She looks at me, and for just a moment, all I see is raw emotion pooling in her brown eyes. Maybe even fear? I swear they begin to swell with tears, but they’re gone in a blink. A look of feigned indifference covers her pretty features.

“Nothing.” She shakes her head like she’s trying to physically remove the thoughts from them. “Can you take me back to my mom’s?”

The way she says it wraps around my heart like a vice. She sounds so small, so similar to when we were just children. Not sure what to say, I nod and just stand there. Pushing her will only cause her to run, and I stopped playing the cat-and-mouse game a long, long time ago. “Okay. Let me find my keys.”

This girl gives me whiplash unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what’s going through her head, and it bothers the hell out of me. But I do know something shook her, and I’m notso cruel that I wouldn’t offer to take her home. The fact that she asked me for a ride in the first place tells me everything I need to know.

***

I pull into Elise's driveway as the sky settles into an array of vibrant reds and oranges. I had texted Elise before leaving the bar, letting her know that I would bring Blake home. The winky face she sent back did little to ease my sour mood. Blake didn’t talk to me the entire drive. I even attempted to talk to her about her visit with Whitney, but she didn’t say much other than that she starts at Bell’s on Monday. I can see she’s calmed down, but the idea that something is gripping her thoughts so tightly makes me want to reach over and shake them out of her. I know when something’s rattled Blake, and shewasrattled. She begrudgingly mumbles a “thanks” before trying to scramble out of the car, but I reach over her, grabbing the door and slamming it back shut.

“What the hell?” She shouts. I’d find the expression of shock on her face cute if it weren’t for how irritated I was.

“Are you going to talk about what happened earlier or not?”

“Nothing happened.” She snaps back, but I know this girl as well as I know myself, and she's full of it. So I push, “You came barreling into my office after avoiding the entire building like the plague. Don't bullshit me.”

She shakes her head and stares ahead, refusing to budge on the topic. Yes, she came running into the bar, but she refused to take in any of the surroundings, even on the way out. It’s not something that went unnoticed. I grit my teeth and swing open my door, walking around until I’m yanking her own open, admittedly more aggressively than I had planned. The sprinkle that started when she arrived at my office turned into adownpour on the drive here. My shirt begins to cling to my skin. I take a breath and then offer my hand, signaling for her to hop out. A beat passes, and then she’s laying her fingers in my palm, my hand burning from the small touch.

“Stop opening my door.” She says once she’s on solid ground. She has to tilt her head up to look at me, her chin just barely meeting my collarbone. Rain consumes us as I try not to focus on how close we are, but it’s damn near impossible. “It’s weird when you’re a gentleman.” She’s breathless, breath catching on the last word, and I realize she’s still holding my hand.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.” I smirk. Reveling in the fact that she’s not as unaffected by my presence as she makes herself out to be. She rolls her eyes at the nickname and yanks her hand away like I’ve burned her before hurrying towards the steps of the home. I stand there, unsure of why I’m standing in the rain and haven’t just turned around and gotten right back in my truck yet. Before I can stop myself, I’m calling out to her. “Blake.”

She pauses as her hand touches the doorknob, but she doesn’t turn around. “Yes?”

“Why are you home?” It wasn’t harsh, just genuine curiosity, despite how badly I want to scream at her, interrogate her and ask her all the reasons she left in the first place. It’s been years, and yet a part of me still wants answers. I’m more than sure her reaction back at the bar has something to do with it, and I vow that I’ll figure it out sooner or later. My playful tone from a moment ago is gone, and it causes her to turn around and meet my gaze.

“I-I don’t know.” She shrugs and looks past me as if she’s seeing something I’m not. “I was chasing…I don’t know what I was chasing in New York, but I didn’t find it.”

“Are you staying?”

“I don’t know that either.”

I nod, and we stare at each other for a few more seconds, unspoken words we have no desire to touch hanging in the air between us. After a couple of minutes, she whispers, “Goodnight, Wesley.”

“Goodnight.” I watch as she walks into the house and I wait until the door closes with a click before rubbing a hand down my face and turning back to the truck.

I hate her for making me even ask. For caring that she’s back and wanting to know everything that’s happened since she’s been gone. Did she still have a boyfriend back in New York? What happened to her big fancy job? What was college like? Did she still only take lavender in her coffee? Did her face still light up like a Christmas tree at the smallest amount of embarrassment? I hate that I don’t know every little detail about her like I used to. I hate that she’s probably not even the same girl who left six years ago. But most of all I hate her for driving me so goddamn crazy in such a short amount of time.

Chapter 13

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