Page 49 of Once a Rogue
Sebastian’s voice was still quiet. “But you think he knows what he’s talking about and I don’t.”
“No, that isn’t—” Wesley uncharacteristically stumbled on his words. “That isn’t how I mean it. You’ve been at the mercy of men that would make Langford and I piss ourselves with fright. I’ve never met anyone who knows evil like you.”
Sebastian shook his head. “It can’t go both ways.”
“What does that mean?”
“You say I know evil better than Langford. But I’m saying that’s he’s wrong about you, and you won’t listen to me.”
Wesley’s protest died on his lips. Because hewassiding with Langford, dismissing Sebastian’s past just like Langford had. Worse than Langford, because Wesley knew what Sebastian had survived and was still acting like it didn’t count.
“But I know why you listen to him.” Sebastian hugged his knees tighter to himself. “It’s not because he’s right. It’s because Langford is the one who’s as mean to you as the thoughts in your head.”
Wesley winced. He was a man who prided himself on having no delusions, on facing any hard truth about himself.
But he had not been ready to hear that.
“But your thoughts aren’t true either,” Sebastian said. “And I can’t change them tonight, but I also can’t let you tell me Langford is right, not about this. Because I do know what I’m talking about. And I’m not the one who sees things the wrong way.”
Wesley so rarely found himself at a loss for words. But for all he claimed to think with cold rationality, he’d forgotten that kind didn’t mean gullible, that soft wasn’t sheltered and sweet wasn’t naïve.
“Sebastian,” Wesley started, and then stopped. He ran a hand over his face. “I think I owe you an apology.”
Sebastian shook his head, legs still tight to his chest. “You don’t need to say sorry. You weren’t trying to hurt me, you were trying to hurt yourself.”
“It doesn’t matter if you were the target or collateral damage,” Wesley said.
“It’s okay—”
“It isn’t,” Wesley said, sharp enough Sebastian furrowed his brow. “It’s notokay, because I’m notokaywith you getting hurt.”
Sebastian swallowed. His gaze darted to the side and he blinked. “You brought a blanket?”
“Well.” Wesley cleared his throat. “You were concerned about the brooch, so I was bringing that up. And obviously whatever blankets you had in here weren’t going to be enough. Although then, of course, I find you like this.” He gestured at Sebastian, still curled in a tight ball on the chair. “You’re by an open window on a cold night in barely any clothes. You even took off the robe. It’s almost like you’re purposefully trying to be cold.”
Sebastian made the tiniest flinch.
Wesley paused. “Come to think of it,” he said suspiciously, “it’sexactlyas if your entire plan was to be cold.”
Sebastian bit his lip. “Um.”
“Why? And don’t make something up, I know full well how much you hate the cold. Obviously you have a reason. How were you planning to sleep like this?”
Sebastian’s shoulders hunched.
And Wesley recalled Sebastian’s words from a few weeks back, the first night they’d spent together in York.
I’m not a good sleeper.
Wesley had woken to find Sebastian caught in a blood terror not long after that.
“Were you not planning to sleep?” said Wesley. “Why not? Do you actually think you might still have blood terrors?”
Sebastian hunched farther into the chair. “I don’t know.”
“You don’tknow? You haven’t had one in weeks.”
Sebastian looked away. “That’s true.”
