Page 48 of Once a Rogue
With a jerky movement, Wesley grabbed his cigarettes and matches out of his jacket.
But as he turned, his gaze fell across the room, to where Sebastian’s extra blanket was rumpled on his side of the mattress. He could almost see their ghosts in the bed, Sebastian curled up sound asleep against Wesley’s side, Wesley pretending he didn’t crave that touch more than he craved cigarettes.
Wesley abruptly shoved the cigarettes and matches back in his jacket pocket. He reached into Sebastian’s jacket instead, fingers closing around the key to the room on six he’d pretended to share with Mateo. He then took Sebastian’s waistcoat off its hanger, folding it around the brooch so he wouldn’t make contact.
He turned to leave, and then he paused and looked back at the bed.
Three minutes later, he was walking out of the suite, still in his pajamas with a key in his shirt pocket, and the waistcoat and the extra blanket folded in his arms.
Langford didn’t want Wesley to be with Sebastian. Sebastian didn’t want Wesley to risk his reputation in front of Langford. Too bad for them that Wesley didn’t listen to anyone except himself.
Up on six, he found the room, and unlocked the door. He eased it open as quietly as he could, because it was two in the morning and Sebastian was certainly asleep.
Except the light was on. And Sebastian was in the chair by the window, a book on the table that looked unread. He was dressed in only underclothes, a T-shirt and shorts, and as he looked toward the door, he blinked in confusion. “Wesley?”
Wesley came into his room, dropping his stack on the bed farther from Sebastian’s chair. “You’re still awake.”
Sebastian dropped his gaze. “I wasn’t really tired.”
“And you didn’t come back to the suite because of Langford?”
“I didn’t know if the major was with you, or watching you.”
“And that’s the only reason?” Wesley pressed, because if Sebastian had finally realized Wesley wasn’t the man he thought he was, better to hear it now, before his stone heart had any more cracks.
Sebastian definitely wasn’t meeting Wesley’s eyes now. “Well, you know.”
“Maybe I do,” Wesley said, as evenly as he could. “But spell it out.”
Sebastian glanced at him, then away again. “I thought you’d be happy to finally get a bed to yourself again. And that you might be mad at me.”
Oh.
There was nothing passive-aggressive in his tone. He seemed subdued and closed off, reminding Wesley of their early days together, only guarded politeness for everyone because Sebastian didn’t know if someone’s next words or actions were going to hurt. Gutting, really, to see those walls back up for him.
Sebastian drew his legs up onto the chair. “I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my mouth shut around Langford.”
“You think you owe me an apology?” Wesley was crossing over to him before he realized he’d started moving again.
“You said he works for the War Office now. He could make trouble for you. I could have ruined everything for you tonight.”
Wesley stopped in front of the chair. Sebastian’s arms were tight around his knees, the goose bumps on his arms visible in the lamplight. Wesley could see the green robe carefully folded on top of the dresser. Why the hell was he barely dressed and freezing in this chair?
“Langford should not have said those things to you,” Wesley said.
“He’s an asshole,” Sebastian said. “And he shouldn’t say the things he says aboutyou.”
Langford had hurt Sebastian because Sebastian had made himself a target, speaking up against him, and for what? To defendWesley? “You really have to stop thinking you need to defend my honor. It’s not only unnecessary but also pointless.”
“It’s notpointless,” Sebastian said. “Langford doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He acts like you’re heartless, like you want to be cruel, but that’s not who you are. And now he keeps throwing the past in your face like the war doesn’t haunt you.”
And this was it, right here. This was why this magical thing he had with Sebastian was never going to last, because Sebastian turned everything around to find the kindest ways to see Wesley, and refused to listen to the truth about who Wesley really was.
“I know you don’t want to hear this, but everything Langford says about me is true,” Wesley said tightly. “But it’s hardly surprising, since you refuse to see me through anything but those rose-colored glasses.”
Sebastian’s expression didn’t change, but Wesley caught the flash of hurt in his eyes. “It must be the rose-colored glasses.” His voice was barely louder than a whisper. “After all, how would I know anything about bad men?”
That brought Wesley up short. “Langford was out of line,” he said. “I told him that.”
