Erasing Faith(61)

“But if I just—”

“Abbott!” Benson’s voice was exasperated. “This isn’t a negotiation. These are orders. And you will follow them.”

My eyes pressed closed. “Yes, sir,” I muttered darkly.

“Call me when the team arrives to discuss op-tech and link up our comm feeds.”

The line went dead in my ear.

I sat for a long time, staring down at my left hand. When a drop of water fell and splashed against the white cord on my ring finger, I looked up at the ceiling for a leak before realizing that it wasn’t even raining outside. The leak wasn’t the shoddy roofing — it was me.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried. But as I thought about leaving Faith, I couldn’t help myself.

One last night.

I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

Not yet.

Not ever.





Chapter Thirty-Two: FAITH


POWDER-KEG



He was quiet when he came back.

It was late, nearly midnight, and I was tired after a long day of cramming for the end-of-summer exams, which were approaching far too rapidly for my taste. Sleepy or not, I saw something in his eyes when he looked at me — a sadness that hadn’t been there before. I heard it in his voice, how it saturated his tone like the world was coming to an end. I felt it in the way he touched me, as though he was memorizing the feeling of my every curve, my every freckle, when his hands glided across my skin.

Mostly, it was there in the way that, for once, he didn’t hide behind any walls when he looked at me. Tonight, his emotions were right there, burning bright on the surface of his eyes. His gaze was brimming over with things that made my heart race. He wasn’t holding anything back.

It should’ve overjoyed me. Instead, it worried me.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Maybe it’s just human nature — when things finally fall into place, we immediately begin to worry that something will come along and blow it all to hell.

Before I could dwell too much on devastating possibilities, Wes was on me, all over me. Distracting me with his hands, pressing his body against mine until I forgot my own name and all I could think of was him. The future faded away and all I had was us, this single moment in time where we were connected and all the world shrank until it fit into his eyes.

He didn’t say a word as he stripped my clothes off one by one, his hands impatient as he dropped them to the floor and pushed me onto the bed. In his touch were no traces of the tenderness he’d exhibited last night. He touched me like a starving man might clutch at vital sustenance, like a man who’d wandered the desert for far too long in search of water and finally reached a life-saving oasis. He gripped me with urgency — all rough hands and rushed caresses. And when he sank into me, eyes glued to mine, I felt something inside him snap, felt the control he exercised over every aspect of his life bow and break like a steel box filled far beyond its capacity. The cage that had contained his feelings for more than two decades burst wide open, its metal sides bending like butter under the strength of his emotions.

He pounded into me, my hips rising to meet each thrust, and we were a single entity — feeling, breathing, moving as one.

His eyes said I love you though his lips were still and silent.

And, for now, as I felt myself turn to liquid gold beneath his touch, that was enough.

***

“Do you still believe in fate?” Wes asked softly.

“How can you even ask me that, when you’re here in my bed?” I responded in an equally quiet voice.

He fell silent.

“Did you know that we met on my birthday?” I asked, turning my head to stare at him.

“No — you never said anything.” He scanned my face searchingly. “Now I feel like a bastard — I should’ve gotten you a gift.”

“You were the gift.” I smiled at him when I saw his eyes melt like chocolate over flame. “We were meant to find each other, Wes. I’m certain of that, even if you still question it. And it’s okay. You don’t have to believe — I’ll believe enough for the both of us.”

His eyes pressed closed, as though he was in great pain. When he finally spoke, his voice cracked a little.

“My past… the things I’ve seen…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t believe in soulmates or fate or God. I can’t. But I believe in you. I believe in us.”

My heart expanded in my chest.

“You are the person I want to fall asleep with at night and wake up to in the morning, Red. You’re the person I want to share myself with — the good, the bad, the ugly.” He pushed a tendril of hair behind my ear. “You’re the way I want to live my life. The way I want to see the world. My guiding light. My religion… my faith.”

I felt tears start to leak out of the corners of my eyes, and Wes’ thumb gently wiped them away. Leaning forward, I pressed a soft kiss against his lips. When I’d finally gathered enough composure to speak, my voice was laced with emotions I could barely name. I wanted to say it then — to scream it from the rooftops.

I love you, Wes.

But I didn’t want to rush him before he was ready. There would be plenty of time to say it later — it wasn’t like this was our last night together.