“Yeah.”
They drank their alcohol while the music blared in the background. “Do you think Wolfe will come after you?” Arilyn asked.
Her stomach pitched. “If he’s not ready to be all in, I don’t want to hear it. And if he’s biding his time, thinking this will all go away and we can be buddies, he’s going to be sorely disappointed.”
“He’d never be that stupid,” Arilyn said. “Wolfe is a pretty smart guy.”
Kennedy snorted. “He has a penis. Trust me, he may be stupid, especially since Gen’s thrown him into a tailspin. No woman has ever demanded anything more than a quick lay and a good conversation. He doesn’t know how to handle it, because he’s never been in love before.”
“I hate love,” Arilyn said grumpily. Another shared look between Kate and Kennedy.
Gen sighed and drained her drink. “Me, too. Love sucks.”
Kennedy raised her hand in the air and flagged down a waitress. “That, my darlings, is why they created alcohol. Another round, please.”
They looked at each other and began to laugh.
WOLFE WAITED UNTIL HE spotted her coming up the sidewalk.
He sat in his car, in the dark, waiting for the woman who had replaced his nightmares and now haunted his dreams. Since that fateful night, things had been cold and stilted between them. He’d been ready to accept the blame and ride out the rocky path until she calmed down and realized they were better as friends.
But the last two weeks had almost killed him.
She was going back to the hospital. He was so proud of her. Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he drove up to Verily and parked on her street. Looking at her sunny yellow bungalow made him happy. Now that David was out of her life and safely in Boston, now that the culprit had been caught and punished, things were going back to normal.
And so should their relationship.
He caught his breath as the moon threw her in silhouette. She was gorgeous. Probably out with the girls at Mugs. She wore tight jeans, high-heeled sandals, and a shimmery gold top with lots of sparkle and lace. Her hair was curled in tight corkscrews and tumbled around her shoulders in a silky mess. Pouty red lips mouthed the words to a song he couldn’t catch. Yeah, definitely Mugs. Her hips swung a bit as she bopped to the mental rhythm and skipped up the stairs. The porch light flickered on.
She disappeared inside.
His palms sweat. Wolfe cursed under his breath and got out of the car. He refused to be a pussy. Sure, he’d hurt her, but it was far better than watching her begin to hate him when she realized he was only half a man. The rape and attempted suicide had wiped out a part of who he was. He rebuilt himself, but there was so much violence in his past. She was clean. He was dirty.
She was better off without him.
He wiped his hands over his jeans and trudged up the walkway. He’d keep it light, friendly, and polite. Just check on her. Maybe share a beer. Surely she’d let him inside and begin to forgive him? Surely she’d understand why he had done it and realize things could be good again between them?
He knocked.
Her face froze when she saw him.
His heart stumbled, then dropped into free fall.
Her voice blasted out a spray of pure ice. “What do you want?”
Wolfe tried not to jerk back. This wasn’t like her. Gen would never treat him like an unwelcome stranger. “T-to see you. Catch up. It’s been too long.” He waited like a dumbass on her porch while she studied him like a bug she considered squashing. His temper reared. For God’s sake, this wasn’t what was supposed to happen. “Are you gonna keep me out here or invite me in?” His half joke fell flat when he gazed into those blue eyes and saw . . . nothing.
A wall stood between them. If he reached out, Wolfe swore he’d be able to touch it. Somehow, he had to get them back on track and fix this.
“Gen, please. Let me in. For one beer?”
Finally, she opened the door and let him in.
Trying not to breathe out in pure relief, he remained casual. Walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed two beers, flipping off the caps and handing one over. Like a familiar dance, he expected her smile of welcome or some smart-ass remark that made him laugh. Instead, she just took the bottle and held it in her hand as if afraid to drink.
Irritation cut through him. “So, you went to Mugs with the girls?”
“Yeah.”
“Have fun?”
“Sure.”
He nodded, sipped his beer, and tried to keep calm. Her one-word answers were pissing him off, but if he lost his temper, she’d throw him the hell out. And why was he so mad? He’d been the one to push her away, so he couldn’t expect this to be easy. Maybe it was best to launch right into the topic they were both avoiding.
“I wanted to talk to you.” More silence. “I’m sorry about what happened that day on the balcony.” No expression. “You can jump in anytime, you know.”
“What exactly are you sorry for?”
So cold. Controlled. He pulled himself to full height and swore he’d make her understand. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I did the only thing I could. A relationship like that could never work with us, sweetheart. I’m fucked-up in the head, and can’t stand the idea of messing us up. We’re better off as friends, don’t you agree? I wanted to give you some time so you could come to the same conclusion.”
She just stared at him. Analyzing his words as if he was a stranger. He’d buried himself deep into her body and made her scream his name in orgasm. He’d rescued her from the wedding. He’d told her the truth about his past. And yet there was not even a flicker of emotion revealed on her face.