Possession (Redemption #3) - T.K. Leigh Page 0,73

in her mind is like a giant yard sale, is certainly out of the question. Lydia Bradford doesn’t buy anything used, except for Julia.”

I fling my wide gaze to his, jaw dropped, surprised he’d say something like that about the sister he adores more than life itself.

He holds up his hands. “My mother’s words. Not mine.”

“Jesus. Sounds like she’s a real—”

“Bitch?” Wes interjects.

“I would have said pill, but I suppose your word is accurate, too.”

“Trust me. It is.”

I nod, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets to stop myself from reaching out and holding his hand, an urge that increases with each step we take. Touching him just feels natural, this act of keeping my distance forced and constrained.

“I thought you had a decent relationship with her. At least compared to Julia.”

After some thought, he replies, “I do. Or I did.”

I lick my lips, stopping to check out a few galvanized buckets I can clean up, re-distress, and use as decorative pieces throughout Gampy and Meemaw’s house to keep up with the historic farmhouse style.

“What happened?” I press, making a note of the stall number on my phone before continuing along the row once more.

“Remember the night of the fair?”

“Not sure that’s one I’ll forget for a long time, if ever. At least I won’t soon forget what happened after the fair.”

“Yeah. I suppose not.” An adorable blush covers his cheeks as he recalls that kiss.

I wonder if he’s craved another one as much as I have. At first, I questioned whether I did the right thing by keeping him solidly in friend territory. But several other people in the sexual assault support group I’ve been attending have agreed with my decision, saying it’s better I wait until I’m ready to date. That I shouldn’t rush into anything until I’m in the right mental state to deal with the emotional rollercoaster of a relationship.

“Do you remember me mentioning my ex-fiancée, Brooklyn?”

“I do.” I pull my lip between my teeth, recalling his passionate plea as if it were just yesterday. That this thing is bigger than us. That I’m worth any risk to his heart. “You really do have a thing for girls named after cities, don’t you?” I nudge him with my shoulder, hoping to break through the mounting tension.

“I guess you can say that.” He smiles sheepishly, his chin dipping slightly. “Brooklyn was the first real person I’d dated.”

“So… What? Before that, you made up girlfriends or something?”

A laugh vibrates from his throat as he shakes his head. “Do I really look so horrible that I need to make up a girlfriend?”

“No.” My cheeks warm from the heat in his gaze as I try to fight against my grin, albeit unsuccessfully. Wes is the first person in years who’s made me smile like this. Who’s vanquished the guilt and remorse weighing me down.

“When I say real, I mean she was the first woman I’d met who wasn’t trying to be someone she wasn’t. You’ve heard Julia talk about what life as a Bradford was like for her.”

I nod. “A little.”

“It’s all a show. People will kiss your ass one second, then turn around and stab you in the back the next.”

“How did you meet her? I’m assuming it wasn’t at some posh society event.”

“No, it wasn’t.” His eyes shine with a nostalgic gleam. “One day, I had a meeting with a client in the North End of Boston. I was running early, so I ducked into a local Mom and Pop café to grab a coffee. And that’s where I first saw her. She was so unassuming. So demure. So gracious. One of those women who’s stunning, but they don’t see it.” He flashes me a smile. “Kind of like you.”

I hold his gaze for a moment, a charge buzzing between us. Butterflies flap their relentless wings in my stomach, as they’re prone to do whenever I’m around him. But before either of us does anything we’ll regret, I quickly avert my eyes.

“So what happened?” I walk toward a booth and examine a pile of wood pieces, even though I have more than enough spare wood from all the renovations than I know what to do with.

“She didn’t love me. Not like she needed to in order to be happy.”

“And how does your mother fit into all this?”

He rolls his eyes. “She saw our engagement as her opportunity to plan the social event of the year. Didn’t care about me finding someone I loved and wanted to spend the

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