6. Ash
I’ve run miles while wearing a backpack filled with stones, fought in hand to hand combat, and stitched a knife wound in my side with only a nip of whiskey to numb the pain. So believe me when I say: there is no greater ordeal than swimming in the wishing pool with Tess and having to keep my distance.
Evie perches on the pool’s edge, her feet and shins dangling in the water, kicking and causing ripples as she chats away. Meanwhile Rowan wades to the middle, dunks his head, then makes a beeline back to his wife, reluctant to pass even a minute without their bodies touching in some way.
And the whole time, Tess is right there. Her tall, toned body is only covered by a few scraps of green fabric, while the cool water makes her skin extra silky. And I know that for a fact, because earlier she pressed against me so completely I felt every breath enter and leave her body, our stomachs brushing and limbs twining under the glassy surface.
An unsteady jolt from my heart makes me lean against the pool edge for balance. Evie cracks a joke and I laugh way too late.
Never felt anything so goddamn good in my life compared to Tess. And the urges that came over me when we were alone here—they were fucking primal.
Urges to pick Tess up and plaster her against the rocky pool’s edge, wrapping her long, strong legs around my waist. Urges to kiss and bite and slide her bikini to one side, then press forward into her slick heat. Urges to make her mine.
Those thoughts, those instincts, burned like lava in my blood. They cooked me from the inside out, so that even now, a fair while later, I’m still warming the water around me by several degrees.
Why didn’t I do it? Why didn’t I give in? The longer we stay in this pool, the harder it is to remember my own logic. Something about Rowan—about doing right by my buddy. It seemed so important earlier, so vital to remember, but since Tess has clammed up and shrunk into herself, barely nodding at the conversation, those reasons have faded in my mind.
There’s only Tess—and the way she felt against my body. The way she shivered as I nuzzled her neck.
Tess.
Is she okay? When she smiles at something Evie says, her expression looks plastic and forced. She won’t even glance in my direction, and that hollows me out too.
Tess.
Never meant to shame her or make her curl in on herself like that. Never meant to make her huddle against the side of the pool, looking faintly sick. When I reminded her about Rowan, I was trying to get myself in line, not judging her.
Lord knows Tess has had a rough time of things too. If anyone deserves some love and attention, it’s her.
“Not long now,” Evie’s saying, stroking her bump. And I know it’s a miracle of nature and all, a woman growing a child from scratch, but I can’t help thinking privately that it looks damn uncomfortable on such a small figure.
What would Tess look like pregnant? Would she carry the load more easily on her tall frame? Would she stroke her bump idly in the same way that Evie does, always wanting to keep some contact? Would she let someone rub her feet?
Longing burns in my chest, and for a moment, all I can do is stare out at the trees and swallow hard.
Not for me. Not for me.
We spend fifty eight minutes up at the wishing pool, and I grit my teeth through every single one of ‘em.
* * *
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep inside?” Rowan’s voice drifts through the trees hours later, his boots crunching against dried pine needles as he strolls up to my makeshift camp.
I’m in eye line of the cabin, but far enough away to give Rowan and Evie some privacy. They both urged me to crash on their sofa yesterday, even offering to make some fancy nest on their living room floor, but there’s nothing wrong with a hammock slung beneath the stars. Sometimes the simple ways are the best.
“I’m good.” My backpack hangs on a nearby stubby branch, and I’ve stretched out a sleeping bag in the hammock to beat the nighttime chill. It may be a hot, sweaty summer so far, but up in the mountains, the temperature plummets after dark. “Told you I’d camp out when we planned this visit.”
“I know, but—”
“It’s all good, man. You remember all those nights on tour when we slept on bare dirt? Or your five star stay in that cave?”
Rowan huffs a laugh, folding his arms as he watches me wind down to sleep. I’m fussing really, checking my backpack and the hammock ties, because I’m still wound too tight after everything with Tess earlier.
Might never sleep again.
“Did you tell Tess that I’m doing better?” Rowan asks.
Shit. After everything else that happened, there’s another broken promise to add to the pile.
“I forgot,” I say, scrubbing my face. “Sorry, man. Next time I see her, I swear I’ll bring it up.”
“No worries,” Rowan says, but he scratches his chin and peers off between the trees, looking distracted. The light’s fading fast now, with more shadows than detail on this patch of mountainside, but the first stars of the night are going strong. They wink high overhead, scattered across the cosmos. “Did she seem upset earlier to you?”
My shrug is robotic. “Not sure.”
And god, I hate lying. Hate tiptoeing around and keeping secrets and playing these mind games. Why can’t things be straightforward?
I love Rowan like a brother. And I want to bury myself to the hilt in his little sister, pound until she screams, then fuss over her for every day of her life.
Why can’t those two truths go together? Why’s everything gotta be so damn complicated?
“I’ve failed her so many times,” Rowan says quietly, addressing the trees. “I’m failing her again, I know it. But I don’t know how to fix that fact.”
I’m woozy as I kick off my boots beneath the hammock. It’s been a long ass day, and though I may be too wired to sleep, I’m ready to get horizontal. “Have you told her that?”
Rowan blinks at me, his gray eyes darkened to charcoal by the night. “You think I should?”
The trees creak as I climb into the hammock, but the whole set up holds firm. I sigh, stretching my back out until it pops. “Probably, yeah. Tess is strong, you know? She can handle a hard conversation. Besides, it’s always better to be honest.”
Hark who’s talking. If you could sniff out hypocrisy, I’d stink to high heaven right now, but Rowan nods thoughtfully and clicks his tongue. “Night, man. Shout if a wolf tries to snack on you.”
I wriggle to get comfy. “Will do.”
It takes nearly an hour once he’s gone for my racing heart to slow down. Even longer for the burning heat in my veins to cool. I’m too shaken up by my buddy’s little sister; too rattled by everything that went down at the wishing pool. And as I finally drift off to sleep in the hammock, arms folded tight over my chest, I’m still harder than stone. Need Tess so badly my abs ache.
Not for you. Not for you.
If only my body would get that memo.