I nodded, not trusting myself to speak, because really all I wanted to know was why he wasn’t that guy anymore. Furthermore, was there something wrong with me that made me defective? Why wouldn’t he want that with me? I mean, I wasn’t even sure I was ready, I just wanted to know I was desirable in that way, to him.
“Don’t give me that look.” Wes sighed. “My self control isn’t all that saintly right now. In fact, I may have to lock you in your room tonight and throw away the key. It’s not for lack of wanting you.” He grabbed my hands and kissed the insides of my wrists. “It’s because I want you too much — I care way too damn much — so just accept the fact that it would be a bad sign if I threw you against the wall or the ground or the table. Hell, I’ve had that fantasy for days now. You by the turkey.” He winked and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “I want you, but it has to be right. And right now? It’s too new. Get it?”
“Sure.” I lied, because I still hadn’t gotten over the shock of me and him on a table next to the turkey. Was he insane? Shaking my head, I laughed and followed him into the media room.
“Parade.” He threw a pillow at my face.
“Bring on Tom the Turkey.” I held up my hand for a high five, but instead of reciprocating, he pulled me in for a scorching kiss.
“Kissing…” He sighed. “Better than a high five any day.”
“And for once… Lamb agrees,” I teased.
“Wolf is very pleased with Lamb’s understanding of his wisdom. Now sit before Wolf pounces.”
“Sitting.”
“So demure. I think I like being bossy.”
“Keep being bossy and we’ll see how much you like being slapped by the demure little lamb.”
“And pressing play,” Wes muttered.
Chapter Thirty-Five
He had to go and ruin it — he had to mention Tye — he just couldn’t let well enough alone… Just once I want a normal holiday where we aren’t reminded of death knocking on every damn door in our house.
Weston
“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” I growled, trying to push past my dad. Why was he bringing this up now? Dinner had been incredible; Melda was so excited we didn’t fight at the table that she actually cried while clearing away the dishes.
It was the first Thanksgiving we had where we actually finished eating without going at each others’ throats. After all, Tye had committed suicide Thanksgiving weekend.
One year ago tomorrow to be exact.
He’d said he had stuff to get done back on campus and drove the few miles it took to get there.
The next day we were supposed to go shopping with Melda. She was a Black Friday fanatic.
Tye was found in his room. A bottle of pills in his hand. The autopsy report came back with an insane amount of Xanax and alcohol in his system. He’d just stopped breathing. His diaphragm unable to lift his lungs enough for him to catch a breath.
When the ambulance came, they had hoped they could save him.
He died that night at the hospital.
I hated hospitals.
“Look at me when I talk to you.” My dad slammed his fist against the desk, tears welled in his eyes. “I can’t lose you too!”
“I want to stay.”
“Damn it, Wes!” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “One more game could kill you. You do realize that, don’t you?”
“I gave her my word.”
“She’s a girl!” Dad all but shouted. “She’ll get over it! How do you know she even likes you? Or likes anything about you other than your good looks and money? Of course she likes you now. You’ve given her everything girls dream of, but what about when she finds out about your sickness? What about when she discovers you aren’t on the football team anymore? What do you think will happen then? Will she stick around and hold your hand? Or go find one of your teammates to screw?”
Never in my life had I wanted to punch my father so hard.
“Don’t say that about her,” I fired back. “You don’t know her like I do.”