Page 40 of Salvation (Clover-Hills #1)
Blake
“ D id you seriously tell Haden to back off?” I’m fuming at the sight of Wesley.
His go-to black shirt, jeans, and boots adorn his hulking body.
Swinging my basement door back and forth to make sure it’s working.
I wasn’t entirely sure he’d still be here.
Either way, he wasn’t getting off scot-free.
“What are you barking about?” He has the audacity to sound amused, and it only makes my temper skyrocket. I cross my arms over my chest.
“Haden blew off our date.”
He shrugs a shoulder as he shuts the basement door. “Maybe he just changed his mind.”
“Bullshit.” I jab my finger at his chest. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”
He smirks. “If he’s the type of guy who scares off so easily, maybe it’s for the best.”
“Stop smirking! We’re in the middle of an argument!”
“I’m not arguing. You are.”
“That was not your decision to make!” I’m yelling at him, but despite my anger and his own seething off him, he doesn’t raise his voice at me. Not once. But my tone does sober up his own.
“He isn’t good for you, Blake.” He pivots away from me, walking to clean up his things.
“Don’t turn your back on me!”
His steps falter for just a beat, but he keeps on walking. “Right, like you’ve never turned your back on me.”
I don’t miss the double meaning in that.
But how dare he? He reaches over to pick up his flannel, hanging over one of the island stools.
“That is different." I say firmly, voice rising with each word as frustration bubbles to the surface. " This is different. It’s not your responsibility to decide what’s good for me.”
That causes him to straighten, leaving the piece of clothing discarded on the chair beside him. He whirls around to face me. “The girl I knew would have never let someone like Haden take her out.”
"I'm not the girl you knew anymore, Wesley. Stop pretending that you know anything about me." I snap. He flinches. Flinches like I just slapped him in the face.
“Noted.” He picks up his toolbox and flannel up from where they lay and turns his back to me once again. “Doors fixed. Let me know if you have any more problems with it.”
I just watch as he walks out my door, not even slamming it.
A part of me hates how calm he is, how composed.
I want him to turn back around and yell at me the same way I did to him.
And I realize that's a walking contradiction, but it doesn’t change the facts.
I turn to grab a water from the fridge, maybe more so to give my hands something to do, but it freezes on the handles when I realize my calendar was haphazardly wiped clear.
***
Today has been one clusterfuck of a day.
Watching Gilmore Girls and drinking nearly an entire bottle of red wine by myself has done almost enough to distract me from Wesley and I’s fight.
My mom texted me, telling me that she and Elain were going shopping and that she’d take her home herself.
So, I’ve been sitting here stewing, debating on whether I should just walk right over there and slap him or pull him in for a hug and apologize.
I know the bigger picture is there, I know he was simply watching out for me.
But he and I have way too much history for the words we exchanged not to sting.
Was it fair for me to hurl those words at his face? No, probably not.
Have I even given him a chance to know this ‘new’ me? Am I truly so different from the girl I used to be? Or am I just praying that I am different?
Sometimes, I think the idea of being that small, breakable girl I was for so many years is terrifying, but she is entirely what’s made me the woman I am today. Maybe trying too hard to shove her as far away from who I want to be, is the problem.
Who knew your twenties would be so fucking confusing.
A knock vibrates from the front door, and I sigh as I must relinquish my wine and pause the TV to go answer it. I swing my legs off the couch and hurtle the blanket off my thighs. “Coming!”
A strong wave of nausea coats my throat at the sight before me. Marshall stands at my door, suitcase in hand.
“You can’t be here.” I swing the door shut in his face, only for it to stop when his hand hits the door.
“Blake. Please.” The way his voice cracks is enough for me to crack the door open just enough to peek at him.
Disheveled hair, like he’s spent hours pulling at it.
Bags under his eyes that make it seem like he’s been getting little to no sleep.
I let my eyes scour his face, looking for a hint of that spark I felt the first time I met him.
Now…now he seems so plain. Nothing like the rugged, hard lines of most of the men in this town.
His green eyes that I once believed to be so charming don’t hold a candle to the blue ones—
No. No . I internally chastise myself for even going there when my goddamned ex is standing in my doorway. This isn’t about Wesley.
Wesley…while Wesley may have tried to protect me from Haden, he doesn’t have any room for me in his heart.
Not truly. And this is…this is Marshall.
While he has his faults, I gave him over a year of my life, and he gave me the same.
There were moments so good that it’s hard to remember the bad.
Hard to understand why someone I poured so much love into would want to hurt me.
Hard to understand if it was ever intentional or just a mistake that could be corrected.
But isn’t that the same grace I gave my father?
The very thing I spent years running away from?
Why is it that we always chase and crave the things we know are bad for us?
There was a time when he wasn’t just my boyfriend, but my friend too. There’s a battle waging in my heart, and he obviously notices my hesitation. “I’m sorry.”
I cross my arms, letting go of the door. “You’re sorry?”
“Please…just let me in. I just want to talk.” I sigh and look behind his shoulders, noting the lowering sun, and not seeing a car in sight.
Meaning, that he got a taxi here. The idea was laughable because Marshall Donovan wouldn’t be caught dead riding around in something as cheap as a taxi.
If anything, it was a power play. Intentional, so that I’d have to ask him to stay.
It works. Or maybe it’s just the wine making me act like a complete idiot.
Because I don’t say anything, I just reach out to widen the door some more and leave him to follow while I go to my bedroom.
Suddenly, I’m overly self-conscious about the tiny top and oversized shorts I wear.
I know he’s following me by the heavy thuds of footsteps, but I don’t say a word as I rifle through my top drawer in search of a t-shirt.
I’m throwing it on as he walks into my room, which suddenly feels far too small with the two of us in here. “I got you your job back.”
“My job back?” I ask. “My job back? The one you fucked out of my life?” My words may have been harsh, but they came out less aggressive. More… tired.
“And I left her.”
“Is that supposed to make it better?”
“Of course not.”
An uncomfortable silence fills the air. I go to sit on the bed, facing away from him.
I don’t look at him, finding it impossible to do so.
Because I have a feeling the second I do, I’ll give into whatever he asks of me.
Because forgiving is far easier than hurting.
“You of all people should have known how much that job meant to me.”
He doesn’t waste a second coming around to kneel before me, taking my hands in his. It isn’t lost on me how soft they feel. How different they are from the rough hands that have seen and done so much more than sit behind a polished desk. “I did. I do. That’s why I’m here.”
I shake my head, still avoiding his gaze, but he pushes on.
He dips his head so that he’s below me so that I have no choice but to look into his green eyes.
“It meant nothing to me, baby. Nothing. If I could take it back, I would. But I can’t.
So, I’m here. Promising you that I can do better.
That I will do better. If only you give me the chance.
I want to be with you. Just you. Forever. ”
Forever. I almost laugh at the idea. Do we even want the same things?
A quiet and cozy life? I’m not sure it’s even what I want anymore.
But I’m twenty-four. My life wasn’t perfect in the city, but it was good.
As good as it would get for someone who came running from a sleepy, dead town and had nothing but a shit background to her name.
I built that life for myself. I earned it.
After everything I’ve been through, I deserved it.
Didn’t I? Now, I wasn’t so sure. Part of me wanted to cling to the idea that I did so damn bad, it felt like I was finally saying goodbye to everything I worked so hard for if I finally cut ties with Marshall. “I…I need to think about this.”
He looks like he wants to argue but thinks better of it at my expression. “I…I can work with that.”
I nod, and the air becomes thick with silence. He abruptly stands, straightening his shirt. “How about I make you some tea? And we watch a movie?”
“That sounds nice.” I give him a smile, one that feels too forced.