I climbed up the rose trellis attached to Wyatt’s house as carefully as I could with my screwed up ankle and bandaged hands. I was reminded another time, after Wyatt killed Caleb. There had been hope back then. I couldn't remember the last time I had felt completely hopeful.
I crawled into his room, closing his window before padding as quietly as I could on the wooden floor to his bed. I had no idea where Wyatt was, or if Wyatt was even around at the moment or if it was Caleb, but I had every intention of staying here until he came back so I could apologize and try to force myself to forget about…ugh...Jeanine.
I shuddered at the thought of her and instead stretched out on his bed, curling up with my head on his pillow, inhaling his wonderful scent deeply. His musky scent, even with the sweet undertone of vampire, was familiar and calmed my nerves now, instead of making them worse, as I waited for him to arrive.
“What are you doing here?” came a hiss.
My eyes opened and I didn’t even know I’d closed them. I felt heavy, weighted down and exhausted and all I wanted to do was curl back into a ball and sleep, Wyatt’s scent surrounding me better than any blanket.
“Icametoseeyou,” I slurred, yawning up at him.
“Why?” he asked, and I could tell he was struggling to control his temper.
“Because I’m—” I broke off into a yawn, “Because I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asked slowly, still standing on the other side of the room.
“For saying I didn’t want you around,” I whispered, feeling horrible as I watched him looking at me with a wary and hurt look in his eyes. “For hurting you.”
He didn’t say anything, he just watched me.
I slid off his bed and limped towards him slowly, letting him know if he wanted me to stop he just had to say so and I would. But he didn’t so I kept going until I was standing right in front of him.
“I didn’t mean it,” I said quietly, cradling his face in my hands, “I was upset and not thinking straight.”
He covered my hands with his own before he peeled them off and held my hands. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, my body still acting weird at touching him after this morning with Jeanine.
Our hands hung in between us, fingers entwined and he sighed and pressed his forehead against mine, “I know.”
“I’m sorry,” I said again.
“I know,” he repeated, “Don’t worry about it.”
“But—”
He tilted his head up and kissed my forehead, “No ‘buts’ remember?” he teased weakly.
I stiffened slightly and he pulled away.
“What’s wrong?”
I looked down, staring at my bandaged hands in his, not wanting to tell him since I knew that would hurt him.
“Lila,” he prodded, lifting his hand with mine, putting it under my chin to lift my head to face him, “Come on. What’s wrong?”
“You touching me. It feels weird.”
He pursed his lips, inhaling deeply before he let go of my hands, letting them drop back to my sides.
“Sorry,” I said again.
“Don’t be,” he shook his head, brushing his brown hair off his face as he took another deep breath, “So what do we do now?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
