Rebel (Renegades #2)(85)
Author: Skye Jordan

She wanted to believe, but she’d believed so many times in the past. Her mother, her father, her nannies, her friends, her early boyfriends—they’d all left her. Some repeatedly, after she’d allowed them back into her life. Lexi was the only person who’d ever stayed. The only person who truly understood her and loved her anyway. But hadn’t Wes seen her worst sides? Stilettos. Her hatred for her father. Her pathetically superficial life. Yet…

“I know you won’t mean to,” she whispered. “But I’m just…hard to love, I guess.”

She’d never thought about it like that before. Of course, she knew all her flaws, even if she’d failed to improve on them. But…was she really so hard to love?

Wes rolled toward her, easing her onto her back and hovering over her. He lifted a thumb to wipe away the dampness on her cheeks and met her eyes steadily, seriously. “You are not the least bit difficult to love. In fact, you’re so easy to love, I’ve been fighting against it. The only hard part about being with you is fighting those walls.”

She nodded. “I know. I fight them too.”

“Tell you what.” He smiled, the expression so soft, so loving, it pushed more tears from her eyes. “Let’s fight them together. They’ll never have a chance.”

She was laughing when he lowered his mouth to hers.

Wes felt like he was flying as he sped down the back roads toward Wyatt’s house with Rubi leaning into him, holding him tight, her giggle tickling his ear every time he surprised her by speeding over a rise or leaning heavily into a turn.

She loved him; he knew she did. Beyond that, she was in love with him. He just needed to let her get used to it. He could wait to hear the words. When he and Rubi were as connected as they were now, he didn’t need the words. Not really. At least that was what he was telling himself for now.

One day at a time with Rubi Russo. One day at a time.

And with days like this, he was okay with that. Because every day with Rubi was ten times more exhilarating than one day with anyone else.

She was the one.

He’d realized it lying there on the blanket while she’d been feeding him grapes and kissing him between each one. Grapes his mom had packed up the minute Wes had told her he was taking Rubi on a ride. Then, as she’d packed drinks and chocolates, she’d drifted off on a tangent, suggesting he set up a really nice picnic for her by stringing lights in the trees. Whitney hadn’t helped with her input that Wes should bring his iPod and speaker so they could dance in their private retreat. The fact that they’d liked Rubi enough to insist he make such an effort pleased him. But he knew Rubi better. She needed just the right balance of romance and nonchalance to keep her comfortable. Wes hadn’t quite figured out the ratio yet and didn’t need anything tipping the slow progress they were making toward becoming a solid, committed couple.

He turned off the highway to Daughtry’s “On the Inside,” singing about running to escape but failing because “it’s still just you on the inside,” and wondering if that was what Rubi had been doing all these years. When he turned down Wyatt’s street, his thoughts hit a brick wall. Across the street from Wyatt’s house, Melissa stood beside her car.

Shit. Wes had purposely called Tori this morning to ask when Melissa would be gone before he brought Rubi over.

But as Wes neared, his mind flipped in another direction. A man stood between Melissa and her car. Her ex, Dillon Stark, was a big guy, a head taller than Melissa. His body language was both angry and aggressive, sending an immediate sizzle of alarm across his shoulders.

“Isn’t that Melissa?” Rubi’s voice sounded soft in his ear.

He reached up, shutting the music off, and parked several houses down. “Yeah.”

“What’s going on there?”

She sounded sincerely concerned, which gave Wes one more thing to love about her. Every other girlfriend had been jealous of something in Wes’s life—actresses he’d worked with, the travel and long days his job required, his friendship with the other Renegades. Melissa was a truly beautiful woman in that wholesome, country-girl-next-door way that every one of his previous girlfriends would have taken issue with.

“Don’t know. And I don’t want to know.” He shut off the bike. “He’s her recent ex-fiancé.”

He pulled off his helmet at the same time Rubi did.

“Another one?” she asked quietly.

Wes shot her a sidelong grin. They both returned to watching the argument, waiting for either escalation or diffusion.

“Wes…” she whispered, concern in her tone. “Do you think—?”

Rubi’s words cut off with a gasp as the guy made an aggressive grab for Melissa’s arm and shook her.

“Fuck.” He didn’t want to get in the middle of this, but what the hell else could he do? Wes climbed off the bike without taking his eyes off the pair and handed his helmet to Rubi. “Stay here.”

He started toward them at a slow, casual pace, unzipping his jacket for freedom of movement—something he hoped he wouldn’t need. “Hey, Missy.” He waited until Dillon—a guy he and Melissa had gone to school with—looked at Wes, then said, “Dillon. Long time.”

A few deep breaths passed before Dillon’s furious gaze swung back to Melissa. “Is that what this is about? Him?”

“Nothing between us has anything to do with Wes.” Melissa clenched her fists at her sides. Her face was pink and wet from crying. “Get in your car and leave, Dillon. If you don’t stop this, I’ll call the police.”

Wes stopped ten feet away, far enough to stay out of the middle, close enough to act.

Dillon swung toward Wes. “You didn’t f**k her enough when you lived here?” he said, taking two menacing steps toward Wes. “You have to come all the way from California to f**k her now too?”

Wes clenched his teeth. “I’m here to see my brother. There’s nothing going on between Missy and me.”

With one more giant step closer, Dillon’s voice lowered. “Then stay the f**k out of this.”

“If you leave, I’ll stay out of it.”

Wes saw the punch in Dillon’s expression long before the man’s body ever moved. When his fist finally came at him, Wes pulled back and stepped aside. Dillon’s momentum turned him in a one-eighty.

“Come on, Dillon, I don’t want to fight.” But Dillon was already starting for him again. Wes put his hands up as he backed off. “Just go hit a bar and cool off.”