ALWAYS
We fell asleep, limbs tangled like vines. My head resting on his chest, I listened to the hollow thumping of his heartbeat and let it dull the edges of my wakeful mind, as a child does a bedtime story. I hovered on the border of consciousness, barely able to keep my eyelids from slipping closed, and I felt Wes’ lips skim my forehead so lightly, I couldn’t be sure if it was real or simply part of a dream. I thought I heard him whisper something against my hair, but I was too far gone to hear whatever it was.
In the arms of the man I loved against all reason, I slipped into the most content sleep I’d ever had.
The sheets were cold when I woke.
I reached out for Wes, but my hand encountered nothing but blankets and air as it slid across the bed. He wasn’t here — and hadn’t been for a while, if the lack of body-heat warming my bed was any indication. My eyes flew open and I sat straight up, clutching the sheet to my bare chest like a shield even as my gaze swept the room.
He hadn’t gone far.
He was sitting at the end of my bed with his back to me and his head bowed in what appeared to be deep contemplation. One hand pinched the bridge of his nose and I could see, even from this angle, that his eyes were pressed firmly closed. His expression was pained. I couldn’t help but notice that he’d gotten dressed at some point between falling asleep naked with me last night and right now.
“Wes?” Though I spoke in the softest whisper, he flinched at the sound of my voice.
His head turned fractionally and he glanced over his shoulder at me, his hand dropping into his lap like dead weight.
“Good, you’re awake. I wanted to wait to say goodbye, but I couldn’t wake you. You looked so peaceful.”
There was a careful distance in his tone that set me instantly on edge. He was being friendly.
But we weren’t just friends. Never had been.
I swallowed hard and tried not to overreact prematurely. “You’re leaving?”
He turned fully to face me but couldn’t quite meet my eyes. “I have work.”
It was Saturday.
I felt myself begin to vibrate with anger as I watched him rise to his feet and grab his leather jacket from the end of the bed. He edged around the side of the mattress, kissed my forehead, and whispered something about having a good day in my ear. I don’t know what his exact words were — all of my cognitive processes were tied up as I tried to convince myself that it was a bad idea to walk into the kitchen, grab a large blade, and slice off his man-parts.
Because, as thoroughly as I enjoyed those man-parts, I was in the midst of a rage blackout. Self-restraint had left the building and all bets were off.
He took two more steps toward the door and I realized he wasn’t going to stop. He was actually going to walk away from me again, after everything that had happened between us last night. And that was just… bullshit.
Before I could stop myself, I’d hurled my body — naked as the day I was born — from the bed, scurried around him, and planted myself in front of my closed bedroom door with my hands thrown out to either side, effectively barricading the entire frame. I was panting and glaring and steaming mad, but I didn’t budge, even when Wes stopped dead in his tracks and looked at me like I was a few Fruit Loops short of a box.
“Red, what are—”
“No.”
His eyebrows lifted in question and I could tell he wasn’t sure what to say or where to look. His eyes dilated as they flickered down to take in the sight of my naked body splayed across the doorway like a human blockade. When his gaze returned to mine, it was dark with lust, despite the confusion still pinching his expression.
“I have to—”
“No,” I repeated. “You’re not leaving.”
“Red—”
“Don’t Red me, Wes.” My eyes shot daggers at him. “You’re not doing this again.”
His eyebrows went even higher on his forehead. “Doing what?”
“Running. Throwing up the damn wall.”
“You’re being a little crazy right now,” he said lightly, as though I was fabricating this distance he’d created between us.
He. Did. Not. Just. Call. Me. Crazy.
Whatever expression flashed across my face evidently showed him just how infuriated those words made me. I saw his eyes widen slightly, and he opened his mouth — maybe to apologize, maybe to defend himself, maybe to dig himself into an even deeper hole. I didn’t wait to find out.
“Crazy? Crazy?” I breathed, staring murderously at him. I almost laughed when I saw the semi-terrified look on his face, but managed to contain myself.
Hands planted on my hips, I hauled in a deep breath. His eyes dropped involuntarily to my chest, watching as my breasts heaved up and down. I was tempted to throw my hands up to block his view, but that would’ve showed weakness. Instead, I moved away from the door and sidled closer to him, so only a foot or so separated us. His eyes snapped back to my face.
“You think I’m crazy? Well, maybe I am. You make me crazy, you big idiot.” I glared at him. “Every single time I manage to knock down one of those goddamn walls you’ve constructed, you pull this crap and take a step back from me. Why?”
He opened his mouth to speak but I didn’t let him — I spoke on, answering my own question.
“Because you’re a big idiot. And because there’s something in that big, idiotic brain of yours that tells you to never get close to someone. But that’s too damn bad, Wes, because it’s too late. We’re close. We’re freaking married!” I let out a frustrated scream.
I saw a little of the warmth return to his eyes and I knew I was getting through to him.
“Guess what, Wes?” I whispered fiercely. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. You hear me?”
I took a step closer, so our bodies were flush together — thigh to thigh, chest to chest. The crisp leather of his jacket was cool against my bare flesh, the faint stubble on his jawline was directly before my eyes. When I spoke again, my voice was gentle.
“You can try to run; I’ll chase you. You can try to push me away; I’m not going anywhere.” I leaned toward him and my lips brushed against his as I breathed the words across his mouth. “You’re mine. And I’m yours. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
He stared at my face for what seemed like forever. The long, breathless moment dragged on as we stood eye to eye, chin to chin — the two stubbornest people to ever walk the earth. Neither willing to cave, neither wanting to admit defeat. I watched his nostrils flare, saw the muscle twitching in his cheek as he clenched his jaw over and over.
When he finally responded, his voice held none of the anger I’d been anticipating. It was soft, full of astonishment and affection — even if his words didn’t match his tone. “You really are pretty fucking pigheaded, you know that?”
I considered this for a moment, accepted it to be true, and felt a smile twitch my lips up. “Well, you’re pretty fucking slow on the uptake,” I countered, my voice equally gentle. “But I’m willing to overlook it if you kiss me right this instant.”
“Tell me something, first?” That crooked smile I loved so much was back, and I knew I’d won this round.
“Name it.”
“If there was one place in the world you could go, where would it be?” he teased, calling back memories of our first date.
I grinned against his mouth. “Here. In your arms.”
“Good answer.”
And then, he kissed me.
His arms circled my body and pulled me against him, all gentleness absent from his impatient touch. His grip was rough, nearly bruising, as his hands slid down my spine to the back of my thighs, lifting me off the ground and carrying me backwards toward the bed. My legs wrapped around his waist, my hands found their way into his hair, and — mouths still fused together — we fell back onto the mattress, more than ready to stop bickering and do the only thing we ever seemed to be perfectly in sync on.
As it turned out, Wes hadn’t been lying. He really did have work — a fact which should’ve embarrassed me, but totally didn’t. I refused to regret the hour of makeup sex that followed our fight.
I’m sure some people — cough, cough, my sisters, cough, cough — would say that it wasn’t a good sign we were already fighting. This was the much-lauded Honeymoon Stage, after all. Those beautiful six months where partners walk on egg shells around one another, everyone shits rainbows, and people hide their crazy in a closet where it can’t be seen until much, much later, when it’s far too late to break things off.
But Wes and I weren’t normal. We didn’t hide our imperfections from one another. I knew he was damaged; he knew I was… let’s call it quirky. (Read: totally bonkers.)
So, it’s what we did — we fought. We tested each other’s limits. Pushed buttons. Struck nerves.
And, given the chance, I wouldn’t trade it for a perfect, fight-free relationship.
I didn’t want someone who’d let me be complacent. I wanted a man who’d push me to mature into the person I was meant to be. I wanted to keep evolving — not just now, but for the span of my entire life.
Who created these rules — that growing up stops when your growth plates close, or that old dogs can’t learn new tricks?
They’re crap.
Opposites attract for a reason. Loving someone who sees the world in such a different light — it’s challenging and infuriating and full of hurdles. But the benefits far outweigh the costs.
Plus, the endless, hot makeup sex is enough of a selling point on its own.
After we’d sufficiently reconciled, we lay intertwined with my yellow sheets pulled over our heads, speaking in whispers like two kids who’d built a fort of pillows and blankets. The light shining through the thin covering cast both of us in a golden hue and made everything feel kind of sacred, even as Wes spoke the hushed words I’d been dreading.
“I have to go.”
I shook my head in denial.
“I’ll come back tonight. I promise.”
I squeezed my eyes closed like a little girl, as if I could shut out his words.
“Trust me, Red. If I didn’t have to leave you, I wouldn’t.” His thumb skimmed gently across my cheekbone. “Look at me.”
I didn’t.
“Faith.”
My eyes opened at the sound of my name. He rarely used it, so I knew this was important.
“I’m sorry for being an idiot earlier. You… this…” He swallowed, his eyes scanning my face intently. “It’s everything I never thought I could have. Up until now… not once in my life has someone needed me. No one’s ever counted on me to show up. I’ve never been accountable to anyone before. Never lo—”
He broke off, and I could tell he wasn’t ready to say it.
“I know, Wes,” I said softly. “Just come back to me when you can.”
His eyes bored into mine. “Always.”