once, gloriously silent.
He had his back to her, but she saw him wipe his cheeks with his knuckles really quick before he opened the office door.
Wes the man who’d always been cold as stone was crying? This wasn’t part of the plan. He’d never talked about the night he’d been Turned, never talked about Sam dying in his arms, never talked about listening to Hunter choking on his own blood after Leif had torn them all apart. He’d never talked to her about the damage.
And as much as she hated what he’d done to her, a tiny part of her understood. If she was really honest, she really didn’t know if she would’ve made the right decisions either in a storm of damage and grief like that.
She wished she’d known the reasons why, the honest feelings behind his actions, years ago. It would’ve made things easier if she’d had some understanding of the whys so she didn’t feel invisible and so easy to toss aside.
He’d loved her. The old her. Wes, the tough-as-leather man who wasn’t touched or affected by anyone, had loved her.
And from the pulsing of the bond beating against her chest right now, she thought that perhaps…just maybe…he cared for her still.
Taking shots at him wasn’t as fun now. Wasn’t as satisfying to inflict pain on him to appease her own angry heart. Maybe he’d been beating himself up enough for the both of them all these years.
He’d given the apology. He’d given her the closure and had taken it a step further—he’d vowed to teach her how to be a werewolf. And yeah, he was much too late, and that effort wouldn’t make much of a difference to her animal, but at least he was willing to sit in the storm of her anger and try. The Old Wes wouldn’t have done that.
She’d been so convinced that people didn’t change. Down at their core, they stayed the same. If they were good, they stayed good. If they were bad…well, give up on ’em and save yourself the grief of wasted effort.
But maybe she’d been wrong.
Her stomach growled in the thick silence of the truck. The beef jerky stick she’d grabbed at the gas station hadn’t satisfied her for long.
She was still sitting there stunned when Wes returned, but now he had his old smirk on his face again. Composed werewolf, he’d always been the best at poker faces. He pulled his duffle bag out of the bed of the truck, made his way into a side entrance of the hotel, and stood there, holding the door open. “Come on, Summer, I ain’t got all night.”
Okaaay. She got out and shut the door, then sauntered through the doorway he’d cleared. Three doors down, he slid a key card into the reader over the handle and pushed it open for her. Room 1010.
“Thank you,” she said politely, going inside.
“No problem.”
When Wes shoved his way past her, she growled, “What are you doing? Go to your own room.”
“This is my room.” He let the heavy duffle fall onto one of the two twin beds and turned a grin on her. “I choose this one.”
“I’m not sleeping in the same room with you.”
“Why not? You’ve done it a hundred times before.” His eyes twinkled with wickedness.
She wanted to punch him. “That was a long time ago, and things have changed.”
He pointed to the other bed. “Your bed.” He pointed to the one under the duffle. “My bed. It was this or a honeymoon suite. Rose petals and champagne might have been involved.”
“I would’ve chugged that champagne.”
“Great, I could go for a drink, too. Today has been a long-ass day, and I have too many feelings. Feelings are terrible.”
“Right, so dull those feelings with beer.”
“Exactly. There’s a bar and grill down the street and a grocery store two blocks down from that. I can hear your stomach growling from here. Food first, and a rule.”
“What rule?”
“No more talking about feelings during dinner. I want to eat in peace. We could both use a break.”
“Okay,” Summer murmured. “Okay. I think I need a little time and space for a few minutes, though. I’m going to take a shower before we go out.”
“Good.” His eyes glinted with teasing. “You’re filthy. Want me to help?”
“Piss off.” But her insecurities reared their ugly heads. She sniffed her shirt, but she just smelled deodorant and wolf hair. “Am I really filthy?”
Wes tilted his chin up and gave her a wolfish grin. “I always liked you filthy.”
Stop