Page 125 of Beautiful Ascension

My skin feels tight with rage, and I want nothing more than to punch Wes in the face before I step on his balls.

“Dove,” Lev tries, but fuck him too.

“You all think it was easy? Like I was living my best life in Colorado?” I snarl. “I was broken and could barely get out of bed for weeks.”

Wyatt’s palm lands on my arm, but I shake him off. “You need to sit down before you hurt yourself or the babies,” he orders, picking up my chair. I turn, my nostrils flaring, and I’m rearing for a fight, but the Wyatt that greets me is one I’ve never seen. “Sit.” His tone brokers no argument, and I absentmindedly obey.

“Now we’re going to discuss this like adults with two kids on the way,” Wyatt continues.

I’m still blinking at him when Sebastian says, “There’s a lot of hurt and anger to go around. No one at this table is absolved from any wrongdoing. We all made mistakes along the way. The key is learning from them.”

Sebastian’s words quell my fury enough to see reason. “You’re right. I’m at fault as much as any of you. I’ll be the first to admit that my emotions fueled me,” I sigh, grabbing my glass of water and sipping.

“And we should’ve consulted you?—”

“So she and Owen could’ve died?” Wes states, interrupting Sebastian. “There’s no scenario where we could tell her shit and you all know it. Stop fucking placating her, and be honest.”

Wes spins to face me. “I wasn’t going to let Owen die or put you in harm’s way. So, if that means your feelings get a little hurt, then so be it. It’s better to be alive to feel them than to be dead and be in the know.”

I peer down at my plate, my appetite long gone, before meeting Wes’s turbulent gaze. “I would never ask you to do anything that could hurt any of you. If you think that, then you don’t know me, and maybe we aren’t what I thought we were becoming.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it, Ariah,” Lev replies. “Do we have shit to work out? Hell yes. But that doesn’t mean this—” He waves between us. “—isn’t real or right.”

“You’re hurt, Angel. Rightfully so. But don’t you ever try to say some fuck shit like that again, or I’ll have Lev tie your ass up in a room until we each convince you otherwise,” Owen declares.

Wyatt snorts. “And daddy count ‘em ups, over there, can tally how bad you’ve been.”

“Is everything a joke to you guys?” Wes snaps. “She needs to understand we won’t compromise on her safety.”

“Says the dick who was talking about not having manners in the bedroom,” I retort.

Wes balls his hands into fists on the table as his shoulders tense. “Is anything I say to you going to be thrown back in my face as an argument? If you’re looking for an apology for my choices—you won’t get one.”

Reaching my quota for bullshit in one sitting, I push back from the table and rise out of my chair. “You, Wes Edgewood, are the biggest, dumbest tool.” Then, I storm from the room, not caring how terrible my clapback is.

63

WES

“You better go fix this shit, you twatwaffle, or I’m going rearrange your face like Picasso,” Owen threatens.

“Why? So you can dip your d?—”

The serrated edge of the steak knife presses against my Adam’s apple. “Finish that sentence, Wes. I dare you,” Wyatt spits, and I know I’ve gone too far.

Even if she can’t hear me, Ariah doesn’t deserve my vitriol for a situation she was thrust into. “I won’t,” I state.

Wyatt waits, his hazel eyes doing nothing to mask his fury.

“I don’t know what your deal is, man, but fix it. I won’t tell you again—any of you. We’ve fucked up enough for ten lifetimes. We brought our bullshit to her front door. Now we’re going to make it right,” Wyatt commands.

My nostrils flare at his reprimand. Everyone is like fix it—make it right. “What do you think I’ve been doing, Wyatt? Sitting on my ass?”

“Wes,” Lev tries, but I wave him off and stand.

“None of you assholes had to be the one to reject her. You got to just avoid her. I—” I beat my chest. “I had to be the one, for months, to make snide comments or publicly show that dumpster fire cunt, Samantha, affection.”

They all stare at me—none of them making a move to speak. “Fuck this shit. I don’t need this bullshit right now,” I exclaim, striding from the room.

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