Chapter Twenty Three

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Gracie ~

We were at the police station for hours and by the time we left I was emotionally spent. My mother had not only tried to convince me not to go through with the restraining order, but suggested we bail Colt out of jail so the "poor guy" could go home and sleep it off.

Poor guy? Sleep it off? How do you sleep off being an abusive asshole?

It was like I had taken a time machine back to my childhood and was listening to my mother make excuses for my dad, helping him avoid any and all responsibility for the awful things he did.

Luckily the police officer picked up on my moms toxic behavior and my aversion to it and backed me up, helping me through the process and paperwork despite my mother's protests.

By the time she dropped me off at my apartment my stomach was growling, my body was aching and my eyes were rolling as I closed the car door behind me and let out a sigh of relief that in a few hours she'd be in a different state.

I looked at the empty parking spaces in front of my complex which meant none of my roommates were home and as I pulled my keys from my purse my eyes fell on a familiar truck that was parked in a visitor spot.

Is that Wes' truck?

My heart rate picked up slightly at the sight of his truck and I made my way over to it slowly, noticing that it was still running.

As I got closer to the window I saw Wes leaning his head back on the head rest with his eyes closed and his muscular arms folded across his chest.

He's sleeping.

I tapped lightly on the window and watched him jump like I'd just blown an air horn in his direction.

He turned off the ignition and scrambled out of the truck as if I hadn't just seen him sleeping.

I was surprised at how happy I was to see him and smiled up at him as he tried to regain his composure.

"Whatcha doing?" I asked with a grin.

"Hey. I was just uh passing by your complex and thought maybe you'd want some company when you got back from the station instead of coming home to an empty apartment...but if I'm wrong and you want to be alone, I'll fuck right off."  He said, shoving his hands in his pockets as he spoke with his usual arrogance nowhere to be found.

His words made me laugh and couldn't control the smile he put on my face as if the past two hours hadn't happened.

"How long have you been here?" I asked.

Wes shrugged his shoulders and broke eye contact with me.

"Not that long."

I arched an eyebrow at him and gave him a knowing grin, trying to coax the truth from him.

"Since you left." He corrected himself, which only made my smile grow wider.

He's been waiting for over two hours?

"I'm glad you're here." I said honestly.

"You are?"

There was so much hope and sincerity in his voice and the smile that followed made my stomach swarm with butterflies.

"Yeah, I am. Filing the restraining order took forever and was awful, almost as awful as spending two hours with my mother." I said with an eye roll.

"Her reaction today at the house was uh...interesting." Wes said, scratching the back of his head and trying to be polite.

"Well if by interesting you mean shitty then I completely agree." I muttered as I turned to walk toward my front door with Wes following close behind.

"Yeah, What the fuck was that about?"

I sighed as I unlocked the door and let us inside. It probably wasn't  the right time to discuss my broken family, but considering what Wes and I had been through together I chose to trust him with the information.

"She tried to convince me to drop the charges. Even bail Colt out of jail." I said as I tossed my keys into the bowl by the door.

"Man, fuck her..."Wes snapped before his eyes went wide at me, remembering that he was talking about my mother.

"...respectfully." He added quickly as if that made his statement any less disrespectful.

I couldn't help but laugh as Wes' outburst and made sure he knew he hadn't offended me.

"I completely agree," I said which seemed to put him at ease.

"Why is she like that?" Wes asked with nothing but confusion on his face.

What a great question. I wish I had a better answer for you.

"It's a long story, but the short version is that my mom has a history of defending abusive men. Her father was an abusive alcoholic, her first husband, who is my father, was an abusive alcoholic and she's treating Colt the exact same way and expecting me to do the same...but I'm not my mother."

That last statement was more of an affirmation to myself than an explanation for Wes, but it felt good coming out of my mouth.

"Shit Gracie..." There was a hint of pain in Wes' voice and his brows were lowered and serious.

Crap I didn't mean to upset him.

"It's okay. Really. I'm okay." I said quickly, wanting that expression off of Wes' face as soon as possible.

Wes' expression didn't change, but he walked toward me slowly and wrapped his arms around me and pulled me against his chest. His arms were powerful and he towered over me, the smallest part of me told me to be scared but I knew Wes would never hurt me and leaned into him.

"It's okay to not be okay, Gracie." He said softly against my hair.

His words put a lump in my throat and my breathing picked up at his words. He was giving me permission to fall apart and reassuring me that he wouldn't leave if I did.

My shoulders started to rise and fall as I huffed big breaths trying to fight back tears, but it was no use.

"I'm not okay." I whimpered against Wes' chest, feeling like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders as I said the words out loud.

"I know, Baby." Wes said, making his deep gritty voice soft for me.

"But you will be." He continued, running a hand up and down my back.

His gestures and words weren't romantic or charming, he wasn't trying to be flirty or sensual, he was simply being supportive and I wasn't used to that sort of interaction with men. It was foreign and unfamiliar, but I was slowly getting used to it with Wes.

"How can I help you Gracie? I'll be whatever you need me to be." He offered, which was sweet but I had no idea how to answer that.

"I don't really know." I answered honestly, sniffling against his shirt.

He rested his chin on the top of my head as he held me and was quiet for a long time, until I finished crying.

"Well I'm not that great with feelings, and we both know I'm shit at English, but I'm pretty good at math and I know that positives cancel out negatives and you've had quite a few negatives lately. So why don't we fill tonight with positives?"  He said with a cute smile as he pulled away, trying to gauge my reaction.

"I'm listening." I said, looking up at him with a grin.

"Tell me all your favorite things - favorite movies, favorite snacks, favorite color, favorite activity, all the things, then let me do the rest."

"You don't have to do that Wes." I chuckled.

"I don't have to do anything. I'm a grown man and I do what I want." His voice shifted and had a slight edge to it, but it didn't scare me, it sent goosebumps down my back.

"Okay." I agreed softly with an uncontrollable smile.

His face lit up and he grabbed the closest pen and paper off the counter, thrusting it toward me eagerly.

"All the things." He said with his chest puffed out and a devastating smile on his face.

I started scribbling on the pad and couldn't stop my smile or the swarm of butterflies that were flipping my stomach and sending warmth throughout my entire body.

Is this what it feels like to be cared for? Because if I'm not careful might become addicted to this.

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