“Incredible, Willow,” he whispers against the top of my head. “You’re incredible. My brave, strong girl.”
I nuzzle into him, soaking up his warmth and scent. Being pressed against Weston is like falling into bed after a long day. Even in public, beneath the blazing sun, with the anguish of my past floating all around me, I’m nothing but comfortable when wrapped in him.
He kisses my forehead as I pull back, raising my chin to look up at him. “Did you not tell me because my dad told you not to, or because you thought I couldn’t handle it?”
“I wanted to respect his boundaries, and I thought he knew what was best for you, and it was my place to listen to that. At the time, I don’t think that was a wrong way of thinking, butnow...” He cups my face. “I’m on your team, Wills. Always. We’re in everything together, and I choose you every fucking time. I’m sorry for not telling you, and it’ll never happen again.”
We stand from the bench, Weston smiling down at me, eyes sparkling with so much adoration it seeps into my very bones. I rise onto my toes, kissing him gently. He surges forward, capturing my lips in a tender caress, uncaring of the setting as he takes his time thoroughly ravishing me.
“Do you want me to walk you to work?” I ask, pulling back but keeping my hands on his arms, still craving his touch.
He pulls out his phone, checking the time. “I still have a bit before my shift starts. I might hang back at the studio for a little while and see if August will continue allowing me to observe.” He winks. “Immersion therapy or whatever he said.”
I tilt my head, tossing him a mystified smirk. “Okay, weirdo. Allie and I were going to grab lunch, but I think I need to go talk to my parents first. About Parker.”
Weston nods. “Your dad should be over at the surf shop, earlier this morning he mentioned he had a meeting today.”
“Good, I’ll grab him before I go find my mom at Honeysuckle.”
I’m not angry with my parents, but I need them to know that I’m aware of the ongoing behavior from Parker, that I’ve handled it, and I’ll continue handling it if my phone call wasn’t enough to stop him for good.
Though, I’m confident that Parker values his reputation at Berkeley more than he ever did me, and I’m hoping my threat will be enough. I knew that reporting his assault would likely lead to nothing other than a he-said she-said argument, that I’d inevitably lose. But his repeated harassment over this summer is an entirely new claim to make—one that comes with proof.
“I’ll see you tonight?” Wes asks as we walk hand-in-hand toward the tattoo shop.
“Yeah. I have a new painting idea I wanted to start on, so I’ll probably be in my art room when you get done with work later.”
His arm loops around my waist, tugging me into him. “Why don’t you paint at the guesthouse? That way when I get home tonight you’re already exactly where I need you, and you don’t have to stop working.”
Butterfly wings flutter in my chest so rapidly they may lift me right off the floor. My cheeks ache with the weight of my grin. “Are you sure? It’s kind of a big project. It’ll take up a lot of your space.”
His gray-blue eyes blaze with enough conviction to bring me to my knees when he says, “Take all my space, Wills. Make it ours.”
I’m falling in love with you.
The rogue thought floats across my mind on the back of one of those butterflies, yet the realization hits me with enough force to knock the wind from my lungs. I know it’s happening, but part of me screamstoo soon.There is so much I haven’t said. So many secrets still kept. Pieces of myself I’m still terrified to show him. I sway on my feet, but Weston’s strength holds me steady.
“Okay,” I breathe. Unsure of what else to say or do, I grab the back of his neck and pull him down, swallowing his gasp as I kiss him again.
CHAPTER 32
WESTON
Soft alternative rock floats through the air as I slip inside the warmly lit house. The coffee table has been pushed against the wall, and the plush, cream rug that used to accent the center of the living room floor is rolled up in the corner.
Willow’s back is turned to me, she’s on her knees in the middle of a canvas about three times her size, swiping a paintbrush over it. In only a white tank and a pair of black panties, her hair thrown up into a messy blond knot, stripes of color covering her sun-kissed skin—the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“Hey, love. I brought dinner.”
She peeks over her shoulder, smiling. “Thank you.”
“Wanna eat now or later?”
“In a bit. Once I wash this paint off me I won’t want to come back to it.”
I nod, setting the food on the counter before striding over to the couch and sprawling out, turning on my side so I can watch her as she swipes a long, thick stroke of teal across the canvas. “I have something to show you later too.”
She pauses, glancing up at me. “Really?”
