Page 16 of Seven Lost Summers
Now he knows everything.
Every sick, twisted fucked-up shit they did to me, the kind of hurt that steals pieces of you that you didn’t even know could be taken. Things I never wanted to say out loud. Things I was never supposed to survive.
He knows what it was like for me to be used. To be stripped down to nothing but fear and skin. To be touched by hands that took without permission and left bruises that never healed. And now it’s out there. No more hiding behind half-truths and shrugged shoulders. He sees it. All the damage. All the shame I’ve choked on for years.
And somehow… he’s still here.
Even now, with him knowing every fucked-up detail, there’s still this part of me that’s scared.
I’m terrified that one day he’ll wake up and realize what I really am. Not just broken. But worthless. The damage that sinks deep and poisons everything it touches. The mess you can’t fix no matter how hard you try to love it clean.
When that day comes, and fuck, I know it will; I don’t think I’ll survive it. Because he’ll walk. And he’ll have every right to when he realizes I am nothing.
Wes stands at the curb, waiting. Still as stone, backstraight, tension bleeding off him in waves. His whole body’s coiled, like he’s seconds from detonating. Fists clenched so tight the veins bulge, jaw locked. That kind of quiet fury that doesn’t shout.
But with all that anger, even with the intimidating ink staining his skin and the scars that tell the story of a life that’s never gone easy on him, I’ve never been afraid of Wes.
Not once.
The first time I saw him, I knew he was a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to command a room. A man who could break you without lifting a damn finger.
When Nate dragged me off the curb that night, my body beaten and used, my face streaked with tears, Wes didn’t say a word. He didn’t ask what happened. In that silence, he gave me something I hadn’t had in a long fucking time. I was safe, and I was home.
I remember watching him with Nate and Scarlet.
The way he carried himself like nothing could shake him. But underneath all that muscle and grit there was something else. Something warmer. In the way his eyes softened when they spoke, even if the rest of him stayed steel. They were safe. Wes would burn the world down before letting anyone touch them.
Fuck, I used to sit on the curb, watching the scene like a movie from a life I’d never get. Wishing I could understand what it was to be protected by someone who wanted nothing in return.
I never thought I’d be on the receiving end of that. But somehow, against all odds, Wes gave that same love to me. A broken, silent kid who didn’t know what the fuck to do with it.
As we get closer to the house Wes turns. Rage still burns under his skin, but he keeps the fire caged for me.
“Are you okay, Theo?”
“Yeah,” I lie, the word barely making it past the tightness in my throat. I force a smile, but the attempt falls flat.
He steps closer, his hand landing on my shoulder, like he sees right through my bullshit.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice is soft. “Because it’s okay not to be okay.”
The words hit hard, knocking the air out of me. I swallow the ache, fight the lump in my throat, blink fast, bite the inside of my cheek—anything to stay steady. But the wave’s already crashing.
Before I can pull it together, Wes pulls me in. One arm around my shoulders.
“You’re strong, Theo,” Wes says. “Stronger than most. But even the strongest break, and sometimes… sometimes, it’s okay to let it hurt.”
Then his gaze shifts to Nate.
“Take him home, Nate,” he says, voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “I’m not finished here, yet.”
Chapter 4
Theo
Age: Eighteen
Isinkintotheshadows,jaw tight, a scowl carved deep across my face. Eyes locked on the new girl. Something about her crawls under my skin in the worst way.
