“You make that sound threatening,” I whispered.
He only laughed in response, neither confirming nor denying my observation as he guided me back to the register.
“Thanks for the snacks,” I said on our way back. I knew the total had been less than twenty dollars, but people spending money on me made me excruciatingly uncomfortable. Especially men.
“Of course, Nova.” He intertwined his fingers with mine.
Back in his townhouse, he cooked me dinner as I sat on a counter stool, watching him work. I’d texted Hudson already to tell him I was okay, that Wes was safe. I wasn’t sure if he believed me, but I knew he would when he met Wes.
After all I had witnessed on our walk, it seemed like it was impossible for someone who knew Wes not to love him.
To distract myself from such a terrifying thought, I asked him another question.
“What was that place Lola mentioned? Third House?”
Wes smiled. “It’s a coffee shop and community space. It’s become a kind of chosen family for me, if I were to borrow book trope language. I’ll have to take you there sometime.”
First, I was shocked Wes knew about tropes. Second, my heart melted at the idea of Wes finding a space like that. I knew how hard it was to be estranged from the family one was born into, how lonely it could feel.
I watched him carefully slide his homemade pasta dough into the pasta maker, baffled as always with Wes and his many skills. I wondered how many women would gleefully murder me for sitting where I sat right now, watching a tattooed hottie make food from scratch.
“And why did she call you a saint?”
Wes shook his head without breaking his concentration. “She was exaggerating.”
“Hmm.”
“Rest assured, when I finally get my hands on you…” Wes drawled, gazing at me through those thick lashes. “You will know for certain that I am no saint.”
29
WES
It was true. Iwasobsessed with Nova.
We were downstairs now, on the garden level, watchingInceptionbecause I remembered from our trip to the Lincoln Center she’d said it was one of her comfort movies. She reacted to this floor and the living room the way she’d reacted to the second floor: with adorable shock, mostly.
I’d spent the past month trying everything in my power not to feel what I felt for her. All efforts had been futile.
I started off telling myself we could be friends, that I could convince her to leave The Circle and safely explore elsewhere. I would offer her mentorship and nothing more. But I’d wantedmorealmost immediately. Yet I couldn’t be selfish with her. I tried to broach the subject when I put her in a rope harness, to gauge how she felt and reassure her she didn’t owe me anything. But I could tell she misinterpreted my intentions. She thought I was reinforcing boundaries, and I was too scrambled to correct her.
And, if I were being honest, I was also too scared to correct her. That fear had only multiplied the longer I’d known her,climbing new heights at the party and peaking right now, her body so close to mine on the couch as we faced the TV.
I couldn’t hurt her. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did. Even more—I was terrified of feeling this strongly for anything or anyone, giving something so much power over me.
I didn’t want to lose control, to become addicted to this woman who made me feel something I hadn’t felt in over half a decade. I replayed the same loop of thoughts over and over. I didn’t deserve her. I couldn’t give her what she needed—I’d lost the privilege of holding someone else’s power in my hands, and I wasn’t sure that was something I could ever earn back.
I centered myself with my sponsor’s advice today, wisdom I was trying to embody but hadn’t quite grasped.Punishing yourself doesn’t bring you closer to your higher power. It drives you away and keeps you sick.
There were a few resentments I was still working on, that I might always be working on. And resentment toward myself was at the top of the list.
You’ve got five years, Wes. This is an opportunity to prove to yourself how far you’ve come.
I relaxed an inch. When Nova was done with her ice cream, she rested her head against my shoulder. I guided her to rest it in my lap instead, draping a blanket over her body.
I stroked her hair, relishing the way she shuddered and relaxed with every gentle touch. I wanted to take care of her far more than I wanted to push her away. So, we were going to take it slow. Because maybe I couldn’t stop, but that didn’t mean I was willing to endanger either of us with recklessness. It was clear after today that we had more than enough baggage between the two of us to tread carefully.
“Why is this a comfort watch for you, Nova?” I asked her. I wanted more of her—neededit.
