“Maybe,” he said, point blank.
I let out a hollow laugh. “Weston, you’re telling me you’re some college kid hitman. Is that right?”
“Hitman is a little strong, don’t you think?”
“Honestly, it sounds like the shoe fits.”
He let out a breath. “I don’t kill people, Covee. That would be insane. I just nudge them roughly in the right direction. I know from the outside it doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t,” I confirmed.
“But I promise you, you’re safe,” he said. “I would never hurt you. I don’t have a short fuse. That’s what you’re afraid of, right? That I can’t control my anger?”
I shook my head. I wasn’t afraid of him hitting me. Weston didn’t seem like the type of person to ever do something so heinous. I was afraid of him keeping something so dark hidden until it festered. When violence festers, it expands so quickly that you can’t slow it down after a certain point. I winced at a memory of my parents’ arguments escalating from screams to punches. Carefully, I squeezed my wrist with my fingers to bring myself back to the present.
“Covee,” Weston whispered. “Is this too much?”
“No.” I let out a breath. “It’s honest. It’s you.”
He shifted in his seat. “That’s the first rule. No bullshit.”
Seems to respect some sort of code. Which is good. Noble. Even if he’s misguided.
“Does knowing about the hospital incident change anything between us?” Weston asked.
“Tell me why you wanted to take me to this dinner?” I wasn’t going to give him an answer until he heard all my questions.
“Two reasons. One - I like you more than any girl I’ve ever met. And I promise you that reason by far eclipses the other.”
My skin warmed at Weston’s compliment. It’d been so long since a guy looked at me the way he did.
“Also, I think you could be the Eve to my Adam.”
I laughed. “I beg your pardon? What does that even mean?”
“Remember how I told you I scratch backs?”
“How could I forget?”
“Well, I scratched the wrong one and ever since, I attracted the wrong people’s attention.”
“Serves you right.” The words came out of my mouth before I could censor them. Weston looked amused at my response.
“All my coaches are back in town and coming to this dinner tonight. Something’s been going on with them. I need someone to watch my back. Someone who knows about what I do. Someone I can trust to remind me the garden is tainted.”
“Look, I don’t know who your English professor was, but these euphemisms are killing me.”
“They’re metaphors,” Weston corrected with a dangerous grin. The same one that made me want to invite him into my bed.
“Metaphor,” I mimicked his deep tone. “Whatever. Tell me what you want from me.”
“I want you by my side tonight. And… I want to fuck you later.”
My breath caught in my throat. “You are always so forward. My god.”
He chuckled. “Look, you’re beautiful but that’s not the only reason I offered to be there for you twenty-four seven. I offered because I know ifyoutrust someone, you’ll have their back. When you told me about your crying, I knew I’d probably never find someone willing to admit to something that raw. You were ready for someone to listen, practically begging. I’m ready to listen, to help. It’s what I do best.”
I swallowed back a laugh. Not because what he was saying was humorous, but because for the first time, someone noticed my tears and didn’t try to cheer me up or run away. He tried to see me as someone more. Someone worth understanding and knowing.
