Chapter 24: No More Wounds

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Vash

The door has just barely clicked shut when I hear a gruff voice speak. "Okay. So, this time, I did hear some things."

Wolfwood is seated in one of the cushioned chairs in the corner of our shared room, his dark eyes on me. A sly smirk bows his lips, tilting the unlit cigarette that dangles there.

"So much for just checking on her," he continues, a curl of amusement in his tone. "Are you going to tell her to call you Daddy next time?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, inhaling sharply. "Why are you like this?"

"Because it pisses you off." He shifts, crossing one leg over the other. "Now, this all said, I wasn't trying to hear anything."

"You mustn't have been trying hard enough," I say, shrugging out of my jacket.

I know it's unlikely, but sometimes it feels as if I can smell her scent lingering on my jacket, and she only wore it the one time. Still, I hold it, remembering how it dwarfed her, and how her warmth filled it. I already want to hold her again.

"What? And miss the porno next door?" he asks sarcastically. I shoot him a sharp glance and he rolls his eyes, flattening his tone. "Trust me. I tried. It turns out that you horny bastards are more than these paper-thin walls can handle."

"You could have just left the room, ya know." I kick off my shoes. My skin feels as if flames are dancing across it, and my heart is racing. How does she do this to me?

"I would have loved to do that. However, who do you think was keeping watch for Gramps and Shortie while you two were fucking?"

I cringe. "Why do you have to word it like that? You make it sound so vulgar." I knit my brows. "Wait. You were keeping watch?"

"Well, you don't want them to know, right?"

It's true that I'm not fond of the idea of broadcasting what Kanyon and I were doing, but never once did I consider that Wolfwood would try to help us conceal it. Then again, I guess he is full of surprises.

"I guess that's true," I say. My voice is small, and there is a dull ache in my chest. "Well, good news. You won't have to do that anymore. I ended it."

I plop down on the unfolded mattress of my pullout bed. It squeals and creaks, and a few springs stab me through the material, but I ignore it, instead feeling Wolfwood's eyes on me.

He studies me, quiet for a moment before he whistles. "Whoa. Seriously?"

"Yeah. Seriously."

He's silent once more, then: "That's surprising. Can't say I saw that coming." He crosses his arms over his chest. "So, what made ya do it?"

"What?" I turn, looking at him through the fallen strands of my hair.

"Why'd ya end it? What made ya do it?"

Suddenly, everything I told Kanyon comes rushing back, and I suck in my lips. It is a lonely thought to think about. To know that I'm afraid to get too close – to get attached. But at the end of the day, I have walked this planet for over a hundred years, and in those years, I have experienced loss and heartbreak like no other. And I just don't want to keep putting myself through that.

"I...just wanted to," I reply, fidgeting with my fingers.

Wolfwood sits, his expression unamused and, to be honest, bored. Then: "You're kidding me, right? You're actually joking."

I say nothing.

His eyes widen. "Shut the fuck up! That's a fucking lie! There's no way you just cut things like that. Not with the way you two look at each other."

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