Page 31 of Last Chorus (A Perfect Song Duet #2)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

evangeline

I dig my fingers into Wilder’s waist, flooded with a confusing mess of anger and imagined grief. I want to punch him repeatedly, then handcuff him to me for the rest of his life.

“How do you know?” I ask against his chest. It’s not a fair question, but I can’t help my need to hear his answer.

A warm palm cups the back of my neck. “A lot of reasons, but mostly because I’m selfish. I’m not willing to give up the life I’ve built or the person I am today. Shockingly enough, I kind of like the guy.”

Dragging in a steadying breath, I sit up and wipe my wet cheeks. “He’s pretty cool, I guess. Makes great music and a mean Eggs Benedict. He does have a weird obsession with sexual puns, though. ”

Wilder grins. One dimple deeper than the other. Eyes a bright forest, with those unbelievably charming crinkles at the corners.

Although I’m well aware of how much he’s matured in the last seven years, it suddenly hits me how different he feels .

He’s still himself—unquestionably the boy I grew up with—but gone is the undercurrent of volatility I remember.

Missing, too, is that old feeling that I’ll never really know him.

Because he’s not hiding parts of himself anymore.

He faced his demons. Drew all those disparate, dark elements of himself inward and used them to repair his cracks.

“What’s that look for?” he murmurs, eyes scanning mine.

“You’re like Kintsugi,” I blurt.

His brows jump. “The Japanese art?” When I nod, he gives me a questioning smile. “What made you think of that?”

My face warms. “I don’t know. You seem so different. At peace with the past and yourself.”

He squints doubtfully at me. “I wasn’t very peaceful last night.”

I shrug, scooting back on the couch and drawing my knees to my chest. “I think what happened last night was a long time coming.” I tilt my head. “Speaking of coming… you never answered my question. ”

He grins, smug as hell. “Look who’s the conductor of the Pun Train now.”

I roll my eyes but can’t resist a laugh. “Whatever. Are you going to tell me why you never let me give you a blowjob? No joke, your refusal gave me a complex.”

His eyes widen. “It did?”

Ignoring the prickling heat crawling up my neck, I mumble into my knees, “I’ve never given one because of you. I was too afraid I’d be bad at it.”

Wilder stares at me unblinking for an extended moment, then jerks halfway to his feet before collapsing back to the couch. He covers his face with his hands.

“I can’t believe this.”

My embarrassment spikes even higher. “What did you expect? You went down on me all the time, but every single time I tried to return the favor, you rejected me.”

His hands drop, revealing a stricken expression. “No, Fairy. No, no. My refusal… that was a combination of some weird mental shit and being on opiates.”

I frown. “Explain.”

“Once I started using again, it wasn’t easy for me to come.

I didn’t want you to think you weren’t able to get me there with your mouth.

The main reason, though, was that I constantly felt like a piece of shit for lying to you.

The idea of you doing that for me, with how vulnerable and selfless the act is…

I couldn’t stomach putting you in that position. ”

My left eyelid twitches. I press a finger to it, then glare at him through my other eye.

“Let me get this straight. You thought you were being noble ?”

He grimaces. “Yes?”

A laugh bubbles out of me. “What the hell, Wilder!”

The glint in his eyes ruins his attempt at a serious expression. “You’ve seriously never given a blowjob?”

“We can stop talking about this now. Thanks for answering my question, and also, screw you.”

He cracks, his rich laughter filling the room. “This is so twisted. I should feel bad—I know I should—but I can’t. It’s like I accidentally gave myself a gift.”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Sparkling eyes slant my way. “I volunteer as tribute. Anywhere, anytime you want to practice, whether I’m awake, asleep, driving, cooking, doing laundry…”

Fighting a smile, I kick his thigh. “What makes you think I want to give you a blowjob anymore? Maybe I’m perfectly happy with my virgin mouth.”

“Liar,” he murmurs huskily.

Ignoring the blush that gives me away, I fake a yawn that turns into a real yawn. “I need a nap and a bath.” He frowns and I quickly add, “We’re not discussing my sleep issues, but if you want to talk about boundaries, now’s the time.”

He bites his lip. “Have I ever told you how hot it is that you’re a boss in the streets but a total slut in the sheets?”

I kick him again. “Focus!”

“Fine, fine.” His grin fades as he sits up and drags fingers across his scalp. The action makes me sit straighter since it’s his nervous tell—that and the fact he’s not looking at me but staring out the windows lining the back of the house.

“Wilder?”

“I’m getting there. Just fighting with myself.” He glances at me. “I’m not sure how you’ll respond to this.”

I hug my knees tighter as my stomach flutters. “If you don’t want to do this…”

“Nope. Definitely want to.” He sighs heavily and faces me. “I want you here, Evangeline. I always have. But I’m also too old and too sober to pretend a friends-with-benefits situation with you is the healthiest choice for me.”

I swallow back denials. “I understand. What do you need?”

“If at any point I feel like I can’t do this anymore, I’ll tell you. I need your commitment that you’ll do the same. ”

“Agreed,” I whisper.

He nods and looks away again. “No holding hands, kissing on the mouth, or sleeping in the same bed.”

Pain flares in my chest—sharp, pinpointed like a bullet—and spreads down my arms. I want to cry. Applaud him. Slap him. So many feelings flood me all at once that I can’t speak or blink or even breathe.

I finally manage enough air to ask, “Really?”

Wilder looks at me and nods. Eyes wary but resolute. The soft lips I suddenly can’t imagine not kissing open on a swift inhale.

“Are you okay with those stipulations?” he asks tentatively.

“Sure.” The word feels like broken glass on my tongue.

“Is there anything you need? A boundary that will make you feel more safe?” He hesitates. “I could try not to call you Fairy.”

I’m the one who looks away this time. A storm is rolling in, darkening the sky and water, but a few stubborn rays of sunlight cling to a sycamore. The branches are still bare, ghostly and glowing against a shadowed backdrop. As the clouds thicken and the branches dim, something inside me dims too.

I would give anything to be able to trust what my heart is telling me—that I love Wilder more in this moment than I ever have before. But I don’t know how to trust myself when I feel so tainted. So unworthy.

So small and violent and broken.

I finally turn back to him, meeting his worried eyes. A smile comes with surprising ease.

“Don’t you dare stop calling me Fairy. As for boundaries, I can’t think of anything right now, but I’ll let you know if I do.” I stand up, grabbing my mug. “I’m going to pass out for a bit, then I’m commandeering your bathroom. That soaker tub is calling my name.”

He stands with me. “Of course. I’ll be around—if I’m not in the house, I’m in the studio.”

“’Kay.”

I rinse the mug, pop it in the dishwasher, and head toward the hallway. As soon as I know he can’t see me anymore, my eyes flood with tears.

I’m almost to the stairs when his voice stops me.

“Evangeline?”

I pause but don’t turn around. “Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

I duck around the corner and haul ass upstairs.