Page 41 of Necessary Time

“Morning.” I sat down at the dining room table to put my shoes back on.

“Sneaking out?”

“Not intentionally.”

He snorted. “How does that work? Is Wes asleep?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell him goodbye?”

“No.”

“Did you fuck him?” Grayson came into the dining room and sat down across from me at the table, mindlessly stirring his coffee and waiting for an answer.

“Respectfully, Grayson, that’s none of your business.”

He made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat, like I’d passed a test, then went into the kitchen and made me a coffee.

“I hope you like Cafe Bustelo,” he said, coming back to the table and setting the frothy drink in front of me.

I’d taken one sip when Wesley stumbled down the hallway, hair askew and eyes half closed. He was still in his jeans, the fly undone and his briefs visible below his waistband.

“There you are.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I thought you left.”

Grayson opened his mouth, but I cut him off, “I was trying to.”

That earned another thoughtful sound from Grayson’s mouth, and a disappointed grunt from Wesley.

“Honest much?”

“It’s not like that.” I looked down at my shoes, on but untied.

“I’m going to go drink this somewhere else.” Grayson unfolded himself from his seat and raised his mug in toast, then he headed down toward his side of the apartment leaving Wesley and me alone with one cup of coffee between us.

“You were really going to leave without saying goodbye?” Wesley’s brows were pulled together tight above his eyes, making him look every inch the kicked puppy.

“It sounds horrible when you put it that way.”

“But you were.”

I gave him an honest—if not painful—nod.

“Why?” he asked, dropping down into the seat Grayson had just occupied.

“I don’t know,” I admitted, toeing my shoes back off.

Obviously, I wasn’t going anywhere now. I wasn’t going to leave without having this conversation and I could tell by the hurt expression on Wesley’s face that it was going to take a while.

“Do you regret last night?”

“No,” I answered quickly, reaching across the table for him.

Reluctantly, he brought his hand onto the table and let our fingertips graze against each other, short of allowing me to take his hand.

“Then why?”

“I just needed to think.”