“I shouldn’t have done that.”
The guilt floods his features, and I grab his face so our gazes meet as I reassure him, “You’re right, you shouldn’t have. But we’re talking it out.”
He lets me go then and starts for the bedroom. Of course I follow him. He sits on the edge of the bed, and I sit beside him, rubbing his back.
“This is what she meant.”
I bring my brows in. “Who?”
“Melody. The therapist who got fired. That I wasn’t ready for a relationship. One phrase triggered a reaction, and it was a reaction I couldn’t control.”
I try to soothe him, rubbing his back and thigh. “You are fine, Wes. You did control it. You caught yourself almost immediately, and I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. You didn’t hurt me.” I laugh then, smiling at him. “I thought it was hot. I liked it.”
He swallows hard, shaking his head as he rubs his face. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Wes, you didn’t. You won’t.”
But he isn’t hearing me. “Maybe you should go.”
It’s as if he’s knocked the wind out of me. “What?”
He inhales deeply, not able to look at me. “I think you should go.”
“Are you sure? We can talk this out, lie down together. I won’t even talk about sexy time.”
I cup his face, but he’s shaking his head. “I’m insanely embarrassed right now, and I need time to process what I just did.”
“Wes, it wasn’t—”
“Stella, please,” he asks, his voice low and broken.
“I don’t want to leave you like this.”
“Please” is all he asks, and what can I do? I don’t want to leave, but I also understand he needs space. I get up, going into the bathroom and shutting off the water before grabbing my shoes and hair tie. I wipe up some of the water that had splashed on the floor, buying time in the hope he’ll change his mind. When I come out of the bathroom, though, he is in the same position he was when I went in there, looking absolutely lost and terrified.
Fuck.
“Are you sure? I can stay in the living room.”
“Thank you, but I need to think. You’re my favorite distraction, but I need to think.”
My heart melts for him. I walk over to him, kissing the top of his head. “Call me.”
“Okay.”
I rub the back of his head. “I’m here for you, Wes. I’m not even mad or scared or anything about what happened. I’m only worried for you.”
He swallows visibly, his shoulders dropping. “I’m sorry.”
I wait one more second, hoping he’ll ask me to stay, but he doesn’t, so I leave.
Unsure and scared.
But mostly, vibrating with worry for Wes.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Wes
I feel there is a lot of guilt. You don’t like that you haven’t told Aiden—her brother and your best friend. She was being all romantic and flirty, and it was a lot to handle for someone who hasn’t had sex in over six months. And then she said a phrase your dad and stepmom used. On top of that, add in that Melody is obviously still messing with your head. Wes, it was a lot at once. I think we need to break this down, but in no way do I feel you were being abusive or even had any intention of hurting her. I think it’s sexual frustration that you turned into guilt very quickly, and we need to dive into that.
Noelle’s words have played over and over in my head since my session with her. I haven’t slept since I watched Stella leave. She doesn’t know that I watched her go out the door and into her car, but I’d be damned if I don’t know if she’s safe or not. She’s been texting me since last night, and I can’t bring myself to answer her. I am disgusted with myself. I sucked at morning skate, sucked more at tapes, and then when it was time for therapy, our session that is usually only an hour turned into three. Noelle nailed it on the head immediately—I feel like shit because I’m hiding this relationship from Aiden. I feel like I’m hiding my past from Stella. I still hear that Melody chick in my head, telling me I’m not healing, that I’m not made for relationships, and I want so desperately to prove her wrong. I’m frustrated with the Assassins’ game play. I know we’ll make it out of the first round of the play-offs, but after that, we’re fucked. And above all that, I’m horny as fuck.
It’s all bullshit. I shouldn’t have to struggle with this shit the way I am. I think I overreact to situations because I want to make sure I am doing the right thing. So much wrong was done to me, and just when I thought I was healing—boom! Triggers. I want to move on, but what if I can’t? It’s fucking terrifying and I haven’t cried in a good long time, but damn if I don’t want to. The thought of not being good enough for Stella makes me want to sob.