I can’t pretend anymore.
Chapter 28
Nina
That night, I lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It’s been a long couple of days. My body is tired. I have an early call time on set tomorrow, so I’m desperate to get some sleep. But my brain is not cooperating. It keeps running over memories, snagging on all the emotional peaks and valleys of the day.
(Wes.)
It was so wonderful spending time with Lyle and having a life-changing conversation about beliefs that I’m still thinking about hours later.
(Wes.)
And seeing Grady made me feel centered again. Getting to be near someone who really understands me and believes in me, who’s been my calm in the storm for so long, has helped me to feel recharged in a way I haven’t since arriving at Green Valley.
(Wes.)
Finding out that Perry is lurking around set and wants to get me fired has definitely added in some new complications, but I’ve also felt really heartened knowing that Lyle and Sienna and Rae seem so invested in keeping me around, even if?—
(Wes. Wes. Wes. Wes!)
Fine! Stupid brain. I finally relent and allow my thoughts to wander to where they’ve been pulled to like a magnet all day. Wes. The agony of seeing him sitting with Harmony, smiling and laughing. Harmony, who doesn’t deserve this, not any of it. I try to latch onto that feeling, but I’m yanked back to him again before I can drift too far. I’m thinking of us together in the pantry, and his eyes—those clear green eyes—the look in them I can’t quite define. The way he awakened something in me, an emotion so strong I couldn’t keep it contained.Anger.I snapped at him! Me, Nina Delgado. I haven’t raised my voice to anyone ... ever, maybe? Some part of me worries I ought to feel contrite for it, but I don’t. It was so very freeing to say what I was really feeling. To not hide behind forced smiles or silence.
And even though anger isn’t a particularly positive emotion, for some reason it feels significant to me that I was able to feel that way with him. Now that my irritation has died down, I think it might be important that Wes was the first person to bring that out of me. Because you have to feel safe with someone to let yourself be honest, really honest. You have to trust that they’ll see all the sides of you and won’t recoil.
Strangely, I think I do trust him. Maybe that’s foolish of me. I don’t know him. Do I? Iknewhim once, or I thought I did. I’ve been telling myself that the person I knew then can’t be the same one I know now. But what if ... what if the same man who quoted naughty Bible verses to get me to laugh is the same man who let me see how ticklish he was because he could see I was uncomfortable and wanted to lighten the mood? And what if the man who doodled my face over and over on Bible pamphlets is the same man who couldn’t stop himself from following me into a pantry, who just watched me with thatlookin his eyes while I snapped at him.
Longing, I realize. I think that look might have been longing.
I press my pillow over my face, using it to muffle my scream of frustration.
As if in response to my cry, someone knocks on my window.
I freeze, certain I must be imagining things that aren’t there, because our suite is on the fourth floor. But then I hear it again.Tap, tap, tap.
When I look over at the darkened window, my heart lurches at the sight of Wes’s face pressing against the glass. I rush over to open it. “What are you doing?” I hiss.
His face looks alarmingly pale. “I had to talk to you.”
Perplexed, I search behind him, wondering if I misremembered a tree being right outside my window. But there’s nothing there. “How did you get up here?”
Peering out further, I can see that there’s nothing keeping him aloft except for a slim ledge that he’s precariously balanced on and a fierce grip he’s maintaining on the window frame.
My heart instinctively jolts with fear. What is this crazy man doing, and why is he doing it outside my window?
Before I can find a way to politely phrase that question, he clears his throat. “I’d kinda prefer to have this conversation inside,” he says tightly.
I obligingly back away to give him space to enter. When he pushes his head and shoulders through the window opening, I dither on whether I should grab his arms and help pull him through, but before I can decide, he’s managed to hoist himself into the room, hitting the floor with a dull thud.
My eyes instinctively check the door to my room is still closed as I listen for any sound of someone waking up, coming to investigate the noise. Uncle Aaron would be so disappointed if he found a man in my room late at night. Then again, Uncle Aaron is likely an embezzler, so maybe he shouldn’t be casting any stones.
Luckily, the rest of the suite remains silent, so I hurry to Wes, who is still catching his breath on the floor. “Are you all right?” I rub his shoulder in what I hope is a comforting manner. I might’ve hesitated more to touch him if he weren’t visibly shaking.
Wes closes his eyes, inhaling a few deep breaths. “I went through one of the empty rooms on this floor and made my way over on the ledge. Saw it in a movie once.” He cracks one eye to look up at me. “Turns out, it’s much harder than it looks.”
He sounds so genuinely frazzled. And I’m sure it was very, very scary—only, he’s safe now, so I can’t stop imagining him clutching onto the wall like a spider monkey. A giggle escapes me before I can catch it. I cover my mouth, but it’s too late.
He opens his other eye and tilts his head at me. “Are youlaughingat my near-death experience?”
