On the Slopes of Tahoe (Love Along the Way #2)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rory

W es is vibrating with energy in the passenger seat of my car, talking animatedly while Joss looks on from the back seat, cracking jokes about how much of a golden retriever he’s being. I can’t believe they’re really here. Wes, of course, gave me a hard time for crying when I picked them up, but I couldn’t help it. From the minute I hugged Joss to when I was wrapped up in Wes’s arms, I was an emotional mess. I’ve missed him so much, and having him home makes everything feel right in the world.

The drive was filled with easy conversation, mostly catching them up on the plans for their elopement on New Year’s Eve—a mere ten days away. Wes only popped the question a few days ago, so I’ve been going full tilt to ensure this’ll be the most incredible tiny wedding imaginable.

Breck texted me to say he took care of the necessary paperwork to officiate, and that’s been the extent of our communication in the last week. Beyond catching the occasional glimpse of him and Willow on the slopes, I haven’t seen them either. I don’t blame him for wanting space. I don’t . He’s figuring out his life, and he doesn’t need anyone else in the mix.

Knowing that doesn’t stop me from repeating his words in my head and feeling their sting just as acutely as the day he said them. With Wes and Joss here though, there will be ample time where we’re all together, so I’m trying to move past that. Let it go.

Wes must’ve told Breck that we were close, because when we pull up outside my condo, he and Willow are standing on the front steps. I’ve barely turned off the engine before Wes jumps out and bounds toward his best friend and his pseudo-niece. Their embrace, Willow sandwiched somewhere in the middle, threatens to make me cry again.

Wes has missed having Breck in Sydney, that much is clear. He has Joss there, but he loves his best friend and would give anything to fix the things that drove him away. But he can’t, and I know that kills him.

Joss and I meet at the back of the car, amused looks passing between us at the guys’ show of affection.

“Oi, a little help over here,” Joss hollers, and they quickly break apart with barks of laughter.

“Sorry, Grey. I’m coming,” Wes calls back, using his favorite endearment for his fiancée. Clapping Breck on the back, he saunters over, a look of warmth in his eyes that I’ve never seen him wear for anyone else. He gives Joss a peck on the cheek and then grabs several of the bags.

I turn from the hatchback to hand another bag to Wes and run into a firm chest.

“I’ll take that,” Breck says, his voice a raspy caress over my skin. He takes the bag, his hand lingering over mine for a second too long. I feel his eyes on me but don’t meet them.

“Aunt Joss!” Willow exclaims, pulling all the attention to herself. She runs forward and wraps her arms around Joss’s middle.

She really is like a niece to them. I don’t have close friends with kids, and considering I didn’t expect Wes to settle down, I figured I’d never be an aunt. Who knows, maybe that’ll be in my future after all.

Willow releases Joss and turns to me, offering me nearly the same squeal of excitement. “Rory! I’ve missed you!”

My heart goes all gooey in my chest. I’ve missed her too. Who knew that it would take less than a week around this kid to be smitten. Of course, that only made this past week apart that much harder.

“Same here, Bug. How’s snowboarding going?”

“Soooo good.” She drags out the word, and it makes me smile. “I’m linking turns now!” she says, pride evident in her voice.

“Seriously? I can’t wait to see!” I’ll get to see her in action while Wes and Joss are here, and I plan to make the most of it.

I look over her head and everyone’s watching us. Wes and Breck weighed down with bags, Joss with a small smile on her lips.

“Sorry, you need me to open the door.” I slide my hand down Willow’s dark braid and note it looks slightly less messy than usual. She links her hand in mine and I squeeze it tight, walking up the stairs to unlock the door.

“Make yourselves at home,” I say over my shoulder, all of us funneling into my foyer. In no time, it’s a mess of jackets and shoes. My socks join the pile too, because there’s something about being barefoot on these warm hardwood floors that feels homey to me. “Wes, you know where your room is. Breck and Willow, can I get you anything?”

I can play the hostess, no matter how awkward it feels to have him here after everything.

“Do you have hot chocolate?” Willow asks, bouncing on her toes, bubbling with excitement. Breck opens his mouth as if to protest, but I cut him off.

“I sure do. Let’s make some.” I take her hand again and pull her toward the kitchen. “Do you think Uncle Wes and Aunt Joss want a cup too?”

She nods emphatically. “And Daddy too. Right, Daddy?”

She turns us around and Breck’s eyes lock with mine across the space. There’s something tentative there, like he’s unsure of how to act around me.

“Sure, Willow Bear. Can we keep it to a small cup? I’d like for you to sleep tonight.” His gaze never leaves mine while he speaks, and that precocious girl of his notices.

“Daddy, why’re you staring at Rory?”

His head snaps her way. “I wasn’t staring. I just…” He trails off. He definitely was, but so was I.

I turn back toward the kitchen, leaving a spluttering Breck in my wake.

I get started on the hot chocolate, but it’s not enough to distract me from the display of enviable friendship happening in my living room once Joss and Wes join us. I have friends. I do. Well, I have Jamie. There are others in my life I would classify as friends too, but nothing like this. There’s a pang in my chest as I watch them interact. They’re so natural with each other… Comfortable.

Breck picks Willow up by the ankles. Lifting her high, he blows a raspberry on her stomach, making her cackle and squirm against his hold. Wes and Joss join in with their own laughter from where he’s pulled her down against his side on the couch. It’s a Hallmark moment. They’re like a little family, and here I am, on the outside, wondering how I get an invite in.

The sound of shattering glass rends the air and the moment breaks, right along with the mug I just dropped at my feet—too deep in my head to notice how close it was to the edge of the counter. I look down at the broken shards of what was one of my favorite mugs. Moving without thinking, a large piece of porcelain slices through the delicate skin of my bare foot.

“Ow, shit!” I holler, lifting my foot away from the offending object—blood immediately seeping from the cut.

My body locks up, and the room erupts in chaos.

Breck drops Willow to the couch, his wide eyes finding mine at the same time she yells, “Swear jar!”

Willow attempts to run for the kitchen, also barefoot, and Wes grabs her, tossing her over his shoulder. “Uncle Wes!” she shouts, pounding on his back with her little fists.

“Rory, are you okay?” Wes calls, but I’m still frozen, gaze locked on Breck.

Joss adds, “Breck, you still have shoes—”

“On it,” he says, already moving. He rounds the counter, concern flitting across his face when he takes in the mess around me.

“Rory, don’t move, okay?” His voice is soft and gentle.

I’m not going anywhere, acutely aware of the fact I’m standing in a minefield of broken glass. Breck’s boots crunch over it, the sound scraping through my consciousness and bringing me back to the pain in my foot.

I look down and the room spins. There’s more blood now. The edges of my vision blur but snap back into focus when large hands grip my biceps. I look up into brilliant blue eyes. They’re the only things that could distract me from the pain radiating in my foot and the tightness in my chest.

“I’m going to put you on the counter, yeah?” His accent wraps itself around the word yeah in the most indecent way.

He winds an arm around my waist to hoist me onto the counter, the move obscenely easy for him. I’ve never been one for being manhandled, but I don’t hate it right now. Heat rises to my cheeks, my mind offering up other ways he could—

Rory, what the hell?

“Hey, you okay?” The hand that isn’t still wrapped around my waist cups my cheek, forcing me to look at him. Can he see what I was thinking? I make myself focus on Breck, on the pain, on anything but my wayward thoughts.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I don’t like blood,” I stutter out.

“I guessed as much. Keep your eyes on me. Where’s your first aid kit?”

“Upstairs, under my bathroom sink.”

“I’ll get it,” Joss says from across the room.

A minute later, Wes is next to me. “You know, Roars, if you wanted help with the hot chocolate, all you had to do was ask. You didn’t have to resort to violence and start breaking stuff.” He chuckles, and I try to smile back, but it feels weak.

“If you aren’t careful, Wessy,” I say through clenched teeth, “I will choose violence and throw the next one at your head.”

“Well, there she is. See? You’re okay,” he says, a genuine smile replacing the look of concern.

“I’ve got the first aid kit,” Joss says, walking into the kitchen. “Bloody hell. That’s, well, a bloody mess.”

I groan and close my eyes, my head tipping forward as I attempt to pull air into my lungs. My forehead hits something firm and warm with a soft thud. Breck’s chest. I can’t bring myself to care, forcing a big inhale in through my nose to avoid passing out. He smells good. Really good.

“Helpful, Joss,” Breck mutters sarcastically.

It registers through the haze that this is embarrassing. What a wonderful first impression I’m making on my soon-to-be sister-in-law. Passing out would be worse, however, so I really need to pull it together. I hear more crunching of glass and assume everyone has shoes on now to avoid ending up in the exact mess I’ve found myself in.

Except Willow apparently, because the man holding me to his chest says in his firm dad voice, “Stay there, love. Just wait until we get everything cleaned up.”

“Okay.” She sniffles, and I hate that I’ve scared her with my clumsiness. “Is Rory alright?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, she’s fine. Just needs a minute.” His words puff out across the top of my hair, and my neck prickles at the closeness, the warmth.

The swish of a broom and the tinkle of glass filter in alongside the sound of my breaths mingling with the ones that lift the chest I’m still resting against.

“Joss, can you check her foot?” Breck’s voice rumbles out above me and I press my hands into his abdomen in an attempt to push away.

“I’m okay,” I say, but I don’t make it far. Blinking my eyes open, I catch sight of the bloody massacre that is my floor. “No, I’m not.” I squeeze my eyes shut again and feel Breck’s hand smooth up my back.

“It’s fine. Let Joss look at your foot and Wes can clean up the mess. When we’re all done, you’ll be good as new, yeah?”

There’s that word again. Yeah . Why does it only sound that good when he says it?

“Okay.” At my acquiescence, his shoulders relax, like he thought I’d fight him on this. I know myself though, and I really might pass out if I look at that blood again. Joss’s gentle hands grip my ankle, rolling the hem of my jeans up. I tense, and Breck’s hand resumes its gentle strokes. I melt into the touch and don’t pay attention to the world around me until I feel Breck’s hands slide along my thighs and underneath me to hoist me up.

“Just moving you to the other counter,” he whispers against my hair when I inhale sharply.

My instinct is to wrap my legs around him, but I don’t need to. He supports my weight fully, and I try not to think about his hands and where they’re gripping me. He rotates us, angling me on the opposite counter so Joss can maneuver my foot into the sink.

I hiss when water hits the cut, my other leg tightening around Breck where he stands in front of me. He doesn’t pull away but brings those big hands back to my spine.

“Almost done,” Joss says quietly. I can hear a smile in her voice when she continues. “And, you made your brother clean your kitchen for you. Well done.”

I chuckle weakly at her joke, as does Wes from somewhere nearby.

“Real nice, Roars. Real nice.” Wes’s voice drips with sarcasm. Then I hear him closer, right next to me. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I say on a shaky exhale.

His hand comes to the back of my neck and he plants a soft kiss on the crown of my head—one I wish was from Breck. Really, Rory? As if he isn’t doing enough, holding me through this whole ordeal. I guess it’s good he was sick of having me around, because after this I won’t have any trouble wanting to avoid him.

“Alright, all done. Good as new,” Joss says. “The cut wasn’t that deep, so you don’t need stitches or anything.”

I lift my head, opening my eyes, and the first thing I see is Breck, his face mere inches from mine. I push away and find my hands fisted in his shirt, over his pecs. I release them, shaking away the feel of cotton and heat.

“Sorry,” I say as I look away, glad that my kitchen no longer looks like a crime scene.

Breck loosens his grip too. When he steps back, I realize my leg is still wrapped around his thigh. I untangle myself, his heat leaving me completely.

I look down and see dark crimson spots smudged along his jeans, and it’s not my queasiness this time that makes me put my head in my hands.

God, could this get any more embarrassing?

I groan. “I’m sorry. I’ll get you new jeans.”

His laugh is low and rumbly. I peek between my fingers to watch him take in the state of his pants. “No worries. They’ll wash. This isn’t the first time I’ve had a situation like this. Willow’s had her fair share of scrapes. Seems to come with the territory of being a dad.”

I cringe and squeeze my eyes shut. There I was gripping his shirt and thinking about how easily he manhandled me, while this was all him leaning into dad mode . I press back against the counter, ready to hoist myself down onto my good foot and hobble straight to bed, or to find a hole to swallow me up.

I don’t make it far before he grabs my elbow. “Hang on, I’ll help you.”

“You don’t have t—” I don’t even finish my sentence before his hands are on my waist. Again. He lifts me off the counter and I slide against him until my feet find the ground. Too close. We’re too close.

“Thanks.” The word is brittle, his presence doing something to me it absolutely shouldn’t be, and I sigh. I’m supposed to be mad at him, or at the very least indifferent at this point. Instead, I’m nearly purring at his proximity.

Willow’s steps are heavier, like she’s put her boots on too, just in case. She pokes her head around her dad’s hip and smiles. “Are you okay?”

Breck steps back, leaving me to lean against the counter instead of him, and pulls Willow into his side.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a small cut. Nothing to worry about. Sorry if I scared you.”

“I wasn’t scared.” She juts her chin out, defiant and cute as a button.

“No, of course you weren’t. I was, though.”

“You were?” she asks, looking me over.

“Oh yeah, I don’t really like blood very much.” I swallow thickly, knowing there was quite a bit of it to clean up. “Sorry I ruined the fun.”

“You didn’t.” It’s Breck who speaks this time, and I notice it’s just the three of us in the kitchen now.

“Where are Wes and Joss?”

“I think they pulled an Irish goodbye and went to bed. Maybe all the excitement took the last of their energy,” he says with a shrug.

“I really did ruin the night then. I’m sorry.” My shoulders slump and I look at the floor.

“Hey, you didn’t ruin anything. They were bound to go to sleep early regardless. You could probably use an early night too. Do you need help getting upstairs or anything?” The thought of him helping me into bed makes a blush rise in my cheeks.

“No. No, I’m fine. Thank you though. Willow, raincheck on the hot cocoa, yeah?”

“Yeah, okay.” She’s disappointed, but her dad gives her neck a squeeze.

“Let’s let Rory go to bed. We’ll see everybody tomorrow.” He says it like it’s a sure thing, but there’s a question on his face when he looks back to me. Honestly, I may just hide out forever.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” I don’t meet his eyes when I say it, unsure if it’s true. He gives Willow another squeeze and they head for the door.

“Night, Rory,” Willow calls, the door closing behind them.

My head hangs and I keep leaning against the counter, unmoving, unwilling to consider how I’m going to get up the stairs. Maybe I’ll just sleep on the couch.

“Hey, little sister.” My head snaps up to find Wes watching me from across the island. “You okay?”

“Oh yeah, just wishing I could erase the last thirty minutes of my existence.”

“Ah, come on, it wasn’t that bad. It could’ve happened to anybody.” He comes around the bar and leans against the counter next to me, bumping me with his hip.

“Yeah, but it didn’t.” I drop my head against his strong shoulder, absorbing the comfort that only ever comes from being near him. “I thought you snuck off to bed?”

“Nah. I just wanted to get Joss settled. She’s beat.”

“I’m sure you are too. I won’t be far behind you if you want to head that way.”

“I want to hang with my little sister for a minute. You sure you’re okay? You’ve been pretty quiet since we got home—and I mean before the whole mug-throwing debacle.” He smirks down at me.

“I didn’t throw it.” I roll my eyes and bump his shoulder.

“I’m just giving you a hard time. It’s my job as your big brother, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, uh…” His words drift off as he runs a hand through his hair. “What’s up with you and Breck?”

I stiffen. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, Rory. Even before whatever all that was with him helping you with your foot—”

“He was just being nice… His dad mode kicked in. And I’m glad it did because I’d be way more embarrassed if I’d actually passed out.”

“Okay, we’ll come back to that, but… did something happen?”

“Seriously? No. Goodness, Wes, he’s here trying to pick up the pieces after Talia and you’re asking if something happened with us?”

“No, I wasn’t….” He looks genuinely surprised. “I just—it felt tense between you two, and I wanted to make sure everything was okay. I know Breck isn’t really himself right now so I expected him to be a little off, but you’re being weird with him too. What gives?”

“Nothing. I just… I think I overstepped. I was trying too hard to be you for them.” I shrug. “It’s stupid.”

“Did he say that?” Wes sounds defensive. Of me or Breck, I’m not sure.

“I mean, not in so many words, but kind of. I don’t blame him. I’m not you, and I shouldn’t have tried to be. I haven’t really spent much time with them in the past week, not wanting to crowd him. But now that you’re here, it’s a little awkward being pushed back together. I don’t know how to give him space and be around him.”

“I’ll talk to him. I doubt he was—”

I cut him off. “No, Wes, please don’t. It’s fine, really. He’s going through enough and he needs you to be there for him.”

“Yeah, but I need to be here for you too.” He says it quietly, and I can hear the sadness behind the words. He knows how much I miss him. I know he misses me too. And he misses his friend. It’s hard all around.

“He needs you more than I do. He’s the one who could use his friend, so I’m glad you’re here.”

“Rory.” His voice is soft and placating, but I don’t want his pity.

“Really, it’s fine. I’m going to go to bed.” I carefully put weight on my foot and am thankful there’s only a dull ache as I take my first step toward the stairs. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Okay. You sure you’re good?”

“Yep. I always am.”

I continue my slow limp away and only just hear him when he says, “Yeah, but you shouldn’t have to be.”