Chapter Six
Wells
Not reaching out to a woman has never been an issue for me, but as I grab my phone from my kitchen counter, trying not to think about being blown off by Victory again, reaching out to her is all I want to do.
It’s Sunday morning, and I’m back on Silver Island.
A breeze comes through the window, and I look out at the ocean, wondering how I could have been so wrong about us.
We had a great time at the party Friday night and an even better time at our private after-party in my hotel room.
We laughed a lot, and the way we clicked was as phenomenal as the sex.
But she got up to leave right afterward again, and when I asked her to stay the night, she said she was flying to LA in the morning.
That wouldn’t have bothered me if she hadn’t followed it up with, Wells, you’re a nice guy, and this was fun, but I think I’m over my need for a boy toy.
A fucking boy toy.
I clench my teeth against the term I’ve come to hate and pocket my phone.
I must be a glutton for punishment, because I texted her yesterday afternoon to see if she got to LA safely.
I don’t know why I thought she’d be thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about her, but I was wrong.
She blew me off again. I’m here safe and sound, but I’m going to be really busy. Thanks for asking.
I’m usually the one who walks away without wanting more.
This fucking sucks.
I head out to my Land Rover. I’m meeting my family at my mother’s house for breakfast. On the way, I stop to pick up flowers, and when I get to my old stomping grounds, it brings mixed feelings.
My father moved out when I was young, but my parents never divorced.
Not long after, they were best friends and ridiculously in love again, but to this day, they still live in separate houses.
Needless to say, my childhood was confusing, but we did a good job of acting like nothing had changed and everything was fine.
As Silvers, that was expected of us. Things are great now, but there’s no pretending it didn’t fuck up my view of relationships.
It’s no wonder I misread things with Victory. It’s not like I have a lot of practice with relationships. Hell, I’ve run from them for so long, I can barely spell the word.
So why can’t I run from whatever this is with her?
I’m still mulling that over when I pull up to my mother’s seven-bedroom waterfront captain’s home overlooking Silver Harbor.
I park in the driveway behind Fitz’s and my sister Keira’s cars.
As I throw my door open, I hear honking and see my youngest sister, Bellamy, a lifestyle influencer, coming down the road.
I grab the bouquet I bought for my mother as Bellamy parks by the curb.
“Hey, Wells! Wait for me!” She jumps out of the car and runs over, her brown hair bouncing around her shoulders.
She looks cute in a yellow plaid tube top and white linen pants.
That is, until she shoves her phone in my face and demands, “What is this ?” Her big brown eyes are as accusatory as her tone. “How did you end up there?”
“Get your phone out of my face and maybe I can see what you’re talking about.”
She pulls it back a few inches, bringing the picture on the screen into focus.
It was taken at the party Friday night. I’m with Victory, Boone, Trish, Johnny, and Jillian, standing by the firepit.
Before I can say a word, Bellamy says, “I’ll tell you what this is.
” She points to each person as she speaks.
“Rock star, actress, rock star, mega designer, entertainment mogul, and you . Do you know who’s not there?
Me . What the hell, brother dearest? You couldn’t invite me? ”
Bellamy is as petite as she is fierce, and she is determined to make herself a household name. I have no doubt she’ll get there. She doesn’t need a stage to shine, and despite her vehemence, she’s the sweetest of my siblings.
“Sorry, Bell, but you weren’t in the city.”
“I could have been,” she says as we head up the walkway. “What were you doing at that party, anyway? I thought you were looking for property.”
“I was, but I got invited, so I went.”
She sighs. “I need to hang out with you next time you go to the city.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not? You might get invited to another party, and I want to be there. Do you know what pictures like that would do for my following?”
“You have almost two million followers.”
She rolls her eyes. “I can never have enough. Besides, a party like that could help me get on InstaLove .”
InstaLove is a reality dating show like The Bachelor. “This again? You’re too smart for that reality-show crap.”
As we step inside, Keira runs out of the kitchen into the hall, and her smile fades.
“It’s not the baby. It’s just Wells and Bellamy.
” A dead ringer for Rachel Bilson, with light brown hair cascading over the shoulders of her red sundress, Keira is a spitfire.
She has never sugarcoated anything other than the pastries in her coffee shop, the Sweet Barista.
“Where is the love in this family?” Bellamy complains.
“Hey, Kei, you look cute. Got a date?”
“ She looks cute?” Bellamy says incredulously. “What about me?”
“You always look cute. It’s your job,” I say as we head into the kitchen.
“ Hey ,” Keira snaps. “What are you implying?”
Fitz, the sandy-haired golden boy of the family and the brother I’m closest to, glances over his shoulder as he sets plates around the table, which is loaded with platters of toast, steaming eggs, bacon, sausage, cut-up fruit, and an array of fresh pastries that I’m sure Keira brought with her. “Dude, think before you answer that.”
Always the mediator, Fitz doesn’t like to ruffle feathers. I, on the other hand, have done my best to make up for his failure in that area.
“That’s never been Wells’s strong suit,” my father jokes, his baritone voice ringing out. At six three, with thick dark hair that’s silver at his temples, he has a commanding presence, but his teasing smile softens his hard edges.
“Alexander.” My mother shakes her head, but she’s smiling, too, as she draws me into a hug.
“Don’t listen to him, honey.” She still wears her dirty-blond hair in the same smart style she has since I was a kid, cut just below her ears with a fringe of bangs that gives her a youthful appearance, and she looks classically elegant in cream slacks and a silk top.
“I rarely do,” I tease.
My father slings an arm over my shoulder, giving me a side hug. “That’s my boy, always looking to stir up trouble.”
We hear the front door open, signaling the arrival of Grant and Jules, one of Bellamy’s besties. Bellamy squeals and runs into the hall with Keira on her heels, the two of them arguing over who gets to hold the baby first.
Grant comes into the kitchen looking exhausted.
His usual almost imperceptible limp from his prosthetic leg is more pronounced, and his collar-length hair is still damp from a shower.
He’s changed a lot over the last few years, but this new-daddy-tired version of him takes nothing away from the tough warrior I know him to be.
Grant is made of pure grit. He often went head-to-head with our father when we were growing up, but I always knew he’d lay down his life for any of us.
After his tours with the Special Forces, he worked at Darkbird, a civilian organization that carried out top-secret military missions.
He lost his leg during one of those missions, and when he returned to the island, he did not want to be here.
He pushed everyone away, but he was no match for Jules, a cancer survivor who spreads joy everywhere she goes.
She was determined to help him through his losses, and she brought our brother back from the brink of hell, which was nothing short of a miracle.
Grant drops the baby bag on the counter and pushes a hand through his hair. “Where were they at three this morning when Stevie refused to go back to sleep?”
“Don’t let him fool you into thinking it’s Stevie’s cries keeping him up at night,” Jules says as she breezes into the kitchen wearing a loose-fitting nursing top and shorts, the ponytail on top of her head spilling like a fountain over the rest of her golden-brown hair.
“He’s been sleeping with one eye open since we brought Stevie home from the hospital. ”
“Now, that sounds like my brother,” I say.
Jules wraps her arms around Grant’s waist, smiling up at him. “And that’s just one of the many things I love about our great protector.”
Grant looks at her with a softness I never knew existed until he and Jules came together and says, “Love you, too, Pix.” Pix, or Pixie, is his nickname for Jules, because she flits about like a pixie spreading happy dust. I never would have put Jules and Grant together.
Happy-go-lucky Jules, a self-professed music aficionado who can never remember the correct lyrics to songs but sings like she’s onstage anyway, and the brother who seemed to live under a dark cloud for too many years to count.
But she’s the yin to his yang. Grant is an incredible artist, and he’s not only painting again, but he founded and runs the Silver Lining Foundation, which provides resources for amputees.
My father claps a hand on Grant’s shoulder. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, son. Get used to it. You’re going to be perpetually tired for the next twenty years.”
I don’t know what went down between Grant and my parents, but things have gotten better since he and Jules got together.
“Stop being a baby hog,” Keira says as she and Bellamy join us in the kitchen.
Bellamy is holding Stevie, tickling his belly. “You don’t want to go to Auntie Keira, do you? I know you love your Auntie Bellamy best.”
“Ohmygod,” Keira says exasperatedly. “You’re such a brat.”
Bellamy flashes a cheesy grin.
I’d like to hold the little guy, but I’m not about to step into that spider’s web.