Page 24 of If You Never Come Back
“Foster care?”
In the background, another EDM song plays, but I don’t even hear it. My thoughts are focused on what Colin just revealed. Wes was in foster care as a kid?
Tipsy Colin continues. “He already spent most of middle school being bounced around from stranger’s home to stranger’s home. He didn’t deserve to go through that for another four years when his dad got locked up for good.”
I say nothing, letting the long pause stretch between us. Invisible blocks fall into place in my mind as I scramble to put things together. Wes’s dad went to prison and as a result, he fell into the foster care system. Now it makes sense why he never talks about him or the things he did as a kid. It also makes sense why he and Colin are so close. I didn’t know they shared a home in high school.
My stomach churns as I stay silent, waiting for Colin to take another sip and say more. It’s not right the way I time my pauses, knowing that if I wait long enough, Colin will keep spilling even more about Wes’s past—the past Wes has only shared tidbits of. But I have to know more.
Colin drunkenly grooves along to the song. “Damn, I love Mari Dash.” He knocks back the rest of his drink and pats me on the shoulder. “Pee break.”
He heads to the back of the bar toward the restroom, while I grip a nearby table to steady myself. This peek into Wes’s past has shocked me to the core.
This man that I live with, this man that I fall for more and more every day, doesn’t feel comfortable sharing his past with me. And it kills.
* * *
I tumbleinto the shower the second we arrive home at my apartment. Under the stream of hot water, I close my eyes. The rational part of my brain knows that I have no right to expect Wes to tell me anything about his past. He’s been nothing but honest and upfront since the moment we’ve met. He’s never lied, never cheated, never deceived. He’s not under any obligation to spill everything about his childhood to me.
But that’s what you do when you grow close to someone, when you’re in a relationship. Most people want to open up to their partners because it’s a sign they care about them deeply.
I’m an open book when I’m with Wes. I’ve told him about my family, my past. He listens with genuine interest, always asking me questions, always wanting to know more.
When I’m with Wes, Iwantto tell him everything. But I want him to feel that same way about me. And right now, it’s clear he doesn’t.
It’s a sign. I don’t make him feel safe or secure, like how he makes me feel.
“Shay, you good?”
Wes’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I cough past the tightness in my throat. “Fine.”
A whoosh of cold air hits my back when the shower curtain parts behind me. The heat from Wes’s naked body as he stands behind me is an instant comfort, despite the doubt tucked away inside of me.
When his hands slide around my waist, my muscles give and I practically fall into him. He nuzzles his face into the side of my neck. Goosebumps flash across my skin, despite the fact that the hot water from the shower has turned this tiny space into a mini steam room.
“Baby,” he whispers. “Thank you so much for tonight. It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me.”
I swallow back the questions I have no right to ask. Instead, I breathe. “I’m so glad.”
Palms on my hips, he turns me to face him. He stares, his eyes displaying the trademark intensity that always makes them shine so bright.
He blinks, then presses his forehead against mine. “I’m lucky Colin ran up to me after I hugged you when we first walked in. I would have lost it otherwise.”
Water droplets cover his body. Under the harsh bathroom lighting, they shine like a million tiny gems. I have to swallow back a gasp. He looks so raw, so full of emotion, so damn beautiful.
When he smiles, his eyes glisten. It’s a second before I realize he’s holding back tears. He’s opening up. It’s slow—slower than I would like, but it still means everything. It shows just how strongly he feels for me, just how much I must mean to him.
Slowly, I slide my hands from his chest to his face. I take my time, savoring each inch of flesh under my touch. I want to remember everything about this moment. The look in his eyes, the way he holds me against him, the emotion coursing through him that’s so powerful, I could swear I feel it in me, too.
“I’m so lucky you’re mine.” His voice shakes when he says it.
There’s no time to comment though because soon his mouth is on mine. Under a sheet of steam and water, our tongues tease and collide. The kisses between us are wet fire, igniting us from the inside, exploding in invisible flames around us.
Every lick, every taste of him in my mouth is pure heat, just like every other kiss we’ve shared. This time is different for me, though. Wes doesn’t say it, but I know it is for him, too. Everything about the way he gazes at me, the words he spoke to me just now, the way he’s grabbing at my body like he never, ever wants to let go, sends the message loud and clear.
Wes is letting me in.
Wet, warm hands hold my face, tilting me up to look at him. I’m locked into that burnt umber stare, hypnotized forever.
