Page 25 of Salvation (Clover-Hills #1)

Wesley

“ A lright. Last one, okay?”

I throw a piece of leftover bacon from this morning into the air and watch as the black lab at my feet jumps to catch it in his mouth.

For a dog that gets exercise every day and walks at least a mile down to my house day and night, he’s seriously a chunk.

Wyatt thinks it’s because I feed him, but he’s always been like this.

Plus, they only live for so long, so why not let them enjoy the finer things in life?

With that thought, I pat his head and toss him another piece.

“Don’t tell your father.” I point a finger in his face in warning and turn around to throw a lob of butter into the heated pan on the stove.

The lacrosse game I have on blasts from the small TV I have hanging in my kitchen.

Just as I go to throw some vegetables into the pan, a knock sounds from the front door, and Benji barks before bolting to it and sniffing the bottom of the door like he can somehow figure out who it is that way.

I wipe my hands on the apron and join him at the door. What I don’t expect to see is Blake standing there in tight pink biker shorts and a cropped black tee. A ballcap adorning her head, hair pulled into a messy bun in the back. She looks fucking delectable.

She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, offering a soft, almost timid, “Hi,” like she’s not sure she’s supposed to be here.

“Everything okay?” I ask, looking over her shoulder, not seeing anything. Can’t think of any other reason why she’d show up to my house unless she was being chased with a chainsaw.

“Can I come in?” Her tone piques my interest enough that I don’t say anything, and against better judgment, I step aside and motion with my head for her to step in.

She gives Benji a quick greeting, and once he’s satisfied with her attention, he waddles over to the dog bed I bought for him.

Her eyes light up as she takes in my space.

It’s an open concept. Cathedral ceilings with wooden beams. A spacious kitchen with an island and a living room with a real fireplace.

Tall windows all around. No curtains, so the light is always streaming in.

I’m an early bird anyway, so it never bothers me much.

Plus, when you live in the middle of nowhere, there’s not much need for that extra wall of privacy.

It’s not much, but I built it myself, and it’s home.

My mom always chastises me about how it could use a ' woman’s touch. '

“Wow. Who knew you had such taste?”

“Says the girl who likes the Yankees.” I huff, making a show of glancing at her hat. “So, what’s up?”

“I…well, I was just going for a walk and wanted to see if you wanted to come. I saw the truck in the driveway.”

I’m stumped. Stuck standing there with my mouth gaping like a fish.

I half expected her to ask me to kill a mouse for her or something, but not hang out.

We don’t even like each other half the time, and she’s acting like this is something normal.

Like it’s something we’d do every day. I warded her off after finding out she was moving in.

Granted, I did bake her favorite cookies, so she must be feeling some sort of guilt for the way we’ve been acting around each other.

“…You want to hang out?”

Her face reddens, and she scrunches her face.

“Forget it. It was a dumb idea.” She whirls around and bolts for the door, already having thrown it open.

Somehow, I wasn’t pleased when I saw her on my porch, but knowing she wants to be here has made me feel differently.

Turns out I’ll still take whatever she’ll give me.

“Blake, close the door and get your ass back here.” The blush on her face deepens, if that’s even possible, but she closes the door. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” she admits.

I nod and say, “Good, it’ll be just a little while, but you can hang out on the couch. Want a beer?”

“God, yes - holy shit. Is that Aaron?” I turn as I see that she’s gaping at the TV where the lacrosse game was playing.

Now there’s an interview going on of Aaron Moore.

He used to go to high school with us and left town once he got a full-ride scholarship to play.

I almost laugh at her expression. He’s a big deal, so I’m a bit shocked Blake hasn’t heard about him while living in the city.

Right then, her phone begins to ring, and I watch as she fishes it out from the pocket on the side of her shorts.

Her eyes light up a bit at the name, and red-hot jealousy courses through me because I want nothing more than to know who she’s smiling about.

I busy myself with opening the fridge so as to not look like I’m snooping.

“Vivienne.” She says it as a way of greeting. That immediately eases the tension in my shoulders. I’ve heard about Vivienne through her mom. Not much aside from the fact that they’re close friends who met in the city.

“What? How did you even know that? Creep. No, No. It’s Wesley.

” She lowers her voice when she gets to my name, seemingly thinking I can’t hear her.

But I can. And when I turn back around with a beer in my hand, I can also see the blush creeping up her neck when she says it.

That has me feeling smugger than I should.

She continues talking in a hushed voice.

“Yes, yes. Okay, I’ll call you later. Bye. ”

She looks at me with a soft smile on her face and tucks a piece of hair that fell back under her cap. “Sorry. She gets a bit cranky if I don’t answer.”

I huff a laugh at that. “Makes sense. I’m sure she misses you,” I take a deep breath before continuing, “Did you enjoy it? The city?” I, of all people, know she did, but small talk was better than standing here all awkwardly.

“Yes. And no. Vivienne was probably the best thing about it. She is, I mean.” Her wording doesn’t invade me. And I’m dying to know if that means she’s torn up on whether or not she wants to go back. She did buy a house, though, so I can’t imagine she’s that torn.

“Why’d you leave then?”

“It’s…complicated.” The way her tone falters just a bit at the end and the way she pauses when she speaks those words confirms that it runs deeper than even I could have anticipated. “Let me guess,” I drawl, leaning against the island and cocking my head. “Crazy ex or something?”

“Or something.” She stills, tracking my movements with those brown eyes.

“I quit my job.” She shifts in her seat, thoughts wrinkling the space between her brows.

I want nothing more than to pluck each and every one of them from her mind, just to ease whatever weight she’s carrying. “Or lost it? I don’t know, I guess.”

With that, I nod and slide her the beer can I popped open. Out of everything that’s happened since she’s been back, that’s probably the most shocking. If Blake was one thing, it sure as hell wasn’t a quitter. I look at her, hoping she’ll elaborate, but she just says, “It’s a long story.”

I raise a brow in answer. “I’ve got time.”

“He cheated.” Now I’m the one who stills as she pulls in a breath. The small sound is the only thing reminding me to move. I straighten from where I lean against the counter but keep my eyes trained on her as she adds, “With my boss.”

I clear my throat, choosing to place my hands back on either side of the counter. I think if I leave them anywhere else, I’d start breaking every damn thing in this house, and I can’t imagine that’ll help the situation in even the slightest. “I’m sorry.”

She replies with a curt nod, feigning indifference. But the way she fiddles with the rim of her beer can tells me she’s anything but indifferent about the situation. “Like I said,” She shrugs, “Complicated.”

“What could possibly be complicated about that?” I tease, hoping to brighten both of our now sour moods, but I only get a twitch of a smile in return.

While I may not know this new Blake, I do know that cheating on anyone is unimaginable.

If you’re not interested, just say so. Don’t lead someone on, and don’t waste their time.

And cheating on Blake? Blake? The idea of that is downright unfathomable.

All I know is that I pray I never set my sights on the guy.

“Yeah,” a breathy little laugh catches in her throat, “At least walking in on them mid-sex proved it wasn’t just me he sucked at getting off.

” My brows shoot up as a red-hot color slowly creeps up her neck.

She slaps a hand over her full lips and blinks like she can’t believe she voiced those words out loud. “That…was widely inappropriate of me.”

“No,” I shake my head. “More like a damn shame.”

That blush somehow deepens, and she coughs, slicing that growing tension in half like a hot knife slicing through butter. “So, you have a girlfriend yet? Or still trying to find someone who will take your virginity?”

“Why? You interested in deflowering me, sweetheart?” I tease.

A sputtering comes from her mouth as she tries not to spit out the beer she just took a sip of. Smirking, I turn around to throw some chopped vegetables into the pan I had heating.

“No. No girlfriend. Just me,” I respond, looking at her over my shoulder and finding her staring at me.

Or rather, my arms. I’m wearing a cutoff since I’ve just been at the house, so my tattoos are on full display.

Suddenly, I’m regretting not throwing something else on when she got here.

My entire right arm is covered in black ink, a sleeve of memories and moments that trail down to my knuckles.

There are a couple of random lyrics and other miscellaneous shit I got back when I was young and didn’t give a damn about the world.

A bull I got with Wyatt—his prissy ass needed a lot of convincing for that one.

A carnation for my mom. A rose for my dad.

And up on my bicep, there’s a pond, still and quiet, with tall pine trees rising behind it, their reflections rippling across the water like a memory you’re not sure is real.

Her eyes flutter shut. “Is-Is that…?”

“The pond? Yes.”

She stands up so fast that she nearly knocks over the stool she was sitting on at the island. “I’m sorry. You know what? I just realized I may have left the stove on. I should get going.” Then she wiggles the beer can and tucks it in her chest. “Thanks for the beer.”

She practically runs for the door, not even saying bye to the dog. I look to him, now sitting by the door, looking over his back like I disappointed him. “Don’t look at me like that,” I grumble and fix my attention back on the vegetables that now lay burnt in the cast-iron pan.