Possession (Redemption #3) - T.K. Leigh Page 0,45

I should feel grateful Wes stood up for me like he did. But I hate he had to do that.

“I should head back. Get a good night’s sleep.”

“You can crash here if you want. You can take the bed in the master. I’ve got an extra sleeping bag I can use.”

Once I learned Wes had been staying here on the weekends, I focused my attention on getting one of the bedrooms into a somewhat useable state. It still needs paint and other details, and the bed is just a simple frame for the time being, but it’s better than sleeping on the floor.

“I didn’t take you for the roughing-it type,” I joke in an effort to cut through the solemn atmosphere that even ice cream couldn’t fix.

“There’s still a lot about me that I think will surprise you.”

“I think so, too,” I murmur.

“But I also have an air mattress.” He beams.

I laugh, which feels good, especially after tonight. “Of course you do.”

“Come on, Lo,” he pleads, becoming serious once more. “One beer. At the very least you can hold a beer and sit with me so I don’t feel like I’m drinking alone. After tonight, I could really use a beer. And a friend.”

As much as I’d love to go home, curl up in my bed, and forget about tonight, I can’t ignore the pull I feel toward him, so powerful and all-consuming. He’s the one person in recent history I struggle to deny, although all reason tells me I should.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Wes places his hand on my lower back, leading me up to the front porch.

After unlocking the door, he allows me to walk in ahead of him. Neither of us says a word as we head to the barren kitchen. He opens the mini fridge he brought here a few weeks ago and grabs two beers, popping the top off both. Handing me one, we walk out to the back porch I plan to transform into an outdoor entertaining space, complete with dining area and built-in grill. Right now, though, it’s still a rundown old porch. But that doesn’t matter. After a long day of working on the house, this has become one of my favorite things. Sitting on the top step, drinking a beer, Wes at my side.

Assuming our normal spots, we sit in relative silence, apart from the typical sounds of a country evening. Frogs croaking. Insects buzzing. Owls hooting. Despite the symphony of nature surrounding us, it’s remarkably peaceful.

“Are you okay?” Wes asks after a while. “With what happened earlier?”

I look away from a few lightning bugs dancing in the distance, my eyes locking with his. “It’s not the first time I’ve been called something like that. And it won’t be the last.”

His shoulders fall as he shakes his head. “It’s so fucked up. The Stowes have always been like that, though.”

“What? The town assholes?”

“Yeah. Definitely.” He leans his forearms on his thighs, taking a long sip of beer. “Although, technically, his family lives the next town over. At least they did when we were kids. People called their neighborhood Stoweville because half the residents of the trailer park were all Stowes. When they weren’t locked up for their latest robbery or car theft, that is.”

“That would explain why he didn’t sound like he was a big fan of your gampy.”

He barks out a laugh. “Understatement of the year. The Stowes always hated Gampy. He’d been the prosecutor, then judge on a few of the cases where they were the defendants.”

I nod, not surprised. I’m normally not one to judge someone based on their appearance, having been the victim of that my whole life, but Grady had a rough look about him, one you only get after doing hard time.

“What happened to your grandparents?” I ask softly.

He doesn’t immediately respond. Instead, he keeps his gaze focused straight ahead.

“I’m sorry, Wes. I didn’t mean to pry. After what Miss Clara said, I—”

“It was almost fifteen years ago now,” he interrupts. “I was up in Boston for college, so I wasn’t around.” He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, and I can tell the memory is difficult for him.

So just like he offered me comfort when I spoke of my mother, I do the same, covering his hand with mine, squeezing. The instant I do, raw need courses through me from the simple act of my skin touching his.

“As I’m sure you’re aware, we’re not exactly accustomed to winter weather all that much down in these parts.”

“Certainly

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