Erasing Faith(60)

***

As it turned out, Wes hadn’t been lying. He really did have work — a fact which should’ve embarrassed me, but totally didn’t. I refused to regret the hour of makeup sex that followed our fight.

I’m sure some people — cough, cough, my sisters, cough, cough — would say that it wasn’t a good sign we were already fighting. This was the much-lauded Honeymoon Stage, after all. Those beautiful six months where partners walk on egg shells around one another, everyone shits rainbows, and people hide their crazy in a closet where it can’t be seen until much, much later, when it’s far too late to break things off.

But Wes and I weren’t normal. We didn’t hide our imperfections from one another. I knew he was damaged; he knew I was… let’s call it quirky. (Read: totally bonkers.)

So, it’s what we did — we fought. We tested each other’s limits. Pushed buttons. Struck nerves.

And, given the chance, I wouldn’t trade it for a perfect, fight-free relationship.

I didn’t want someone who’d let me be complacent. I wanted a man who’d push me to mature into the person I was meant to be. I wanted to keep evolving — not just now, but for the span of my entire life.

Who created these rules — that growing up stops when your growth plates close, or that old dogs can’t learn new tricks?

They’re crap.

Opposites attract for a reason. Loving someone who sees the world in such a different light — it’s challenging and infuriating and full of hurdles. But the benefits far outweigh the costs.

Plus, the endless, hot makeup sex is enough of a selling point on its own.

After we’d sufficiently reconciled, we lay intertwined with my yellow sheets pulled over our heads, speaking in whispers like two kids who’d built a fort of pillows and blankets. The light shining through the thin covering cast both of us in a golden hue and made everything feel kind of sacred, even as Wes spoke the hushed words I’d been dreading.

“I have to go.”

I shook my head in denial.

“I’ll come back tonight. I promise.”

I squeezed my eyes closed like a little girl, as if I could shut out his words.

“Trust me, Red. If I didn’t have to leave you, I wouldn’t.” His thumb skimmed gently across my cheekbone. “Look at me.”

I didn’t.

“Faith.”

My eyes opened at the sound of my name. He rarely used it, so I knew this was important.

“I’m sorry for being an idiot earlier. You… this…” He swallowed, his eyes scanning my face intently. “It’s everything I never thought I could have. Up until now… not once in my life has someone needed me. No one’s ever counted on me to show up. I’ve never been accountable to anyone before. Never lo—”

He broke off, and I could tell he wasn’t ready to say it.

“I know, Wes,” I said softly. “Just come back to me when you can.”

His eyes bored into mine. “Always.”





Chapter Thirty-One: WESTON


ONE LAST NIGHT



“Tomorrow.”

Fuck, f*ck, f*ck.

This wasn’t happening. Not now.

“I need more time.” I tried not to sound like I was pleading. I tried to get control over myself. But all I could see was Faith.

“You can’t have it.” Benson’s voice was cold. “The bug you planted on the kid—”

“His name is Konrad,” I growled.

“I don’t give a f*ck what his name is. The only thing I care about is the fact that we now have the intel we need to move on Szekely’s compound.”

“It’s too soon. We need more information before we strike a facility we know essentially nothing about.”

Benson’s voice went arctic. “The access codes we’ve obtained from the boy may change any day. I’ve already sent a team — they’re en route to you as we speak. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Abbott, but I need you to retrieve your f*cking balls from wherever you’ve stashed them and get on board with this plan. You will lead Team A into that damn compound tomorrow, while Team B simultaneously raids the Hermes office. If you can’t do it, I’ll get someone else. This mission is happening, with or without you.”

Fuck. I clutched the phone in my hand so tightly, I worried it would snap in half under the pressure.

“Your source suggested the prototype will be in the sub-basement,” Benson said, as if I needed a refresher course on the intel I’d procured. “Priority is to retrieve it, along with any other advanced weaponry you find there.”

“And Szekely?”

“Dead or alive, we want him. If you have a shot, you’re authorized to take it. We don’t want this mess coming back to bite us in the ass in the future.”

I cleared my throat. “If we just waited a week, I’d have a clearer picture of what we’re walking into.”

Please. Just a few more days with her.

Benson snorted. “We have the building layout you’ve constructed. We have intel from your sources. We have perimeter and internal video. We have the access codes. And, most importantly, we have audio confirmation of Szekely’s presence in that building from the bug you planted on the kid. If Szekely leaves, this is all for nothing. Another week won’t make this any more actionable. We’re moving on it, and we’re moving now.”