19. CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Joss
I swing the door to the balcony open and take in a lungful of the chilled winter air. The railing feels cold under my arms, even through my jumper, and I drop my head to my clasped hands. What in the hell just happened? I know the tension has always lingered there, but we’ve done such a good job of holding it at bay that I almost forgot the power it has over me when I let my guard down.
How many times have I stalked into this apartment over the past few weeks without even thinking about the fact that Wes could be naked? It didn’t even cross my mind as I walked into his room tonight. Yet there he was, in all his toned glory. Wet and glistening from his shower, not a lick of clothes on him before he pulled on those boxer briefs. I’ll never look at a pair of plain black boxer briefs the same way again .
And if I thought his ass was perfect under a pair of well-fitting board shorts, it was even better in the flesh. My cheeks heat at the memory of the way his muscles flexed and stretched, his body angling as he slid the fabric up his sculpted legs.
I should have walked straight back out as soon as I first saw him, but I was stunned stupid and couldn’t seem to make myself move. That all would have been bad enough but, oh my god, what happened after… I’m so embarrassed—no, not exactly embarrassed. Flustered, maybe? Turned on, definitely. Crap. How am I supposed to look him in the eye now?
I drag in a deep breath as I relive the last few moments in my mind. We were so close to crossing a line I don’t think we could come back from. I was so desperate for his lips on my skin, but I could tell he was holding back, restraining himself.
“Shit.”
I run my hands into my hair, letting my head hang as my mind races. I can’t lose this friendship, can’t afford to mess it up. He doesn’t do relationships, and I don’t do casual. I don’t really do anything these days, honestly. After Eric, I decided I needed a break from putting myself out there. Why bother when the outcome is always the same?
If it’s casual, they leave. If it’s serious, they leave.
But in the back of my mind, I know I want someone to share my life with. It’s what I’ve always wanted, craving what I never had with my own family. But I also know it can’t be with Wes. He’s only supposed to be here a year. I can’t fall for someone who isn’t able to offer me stability. I won’t .
When he comes out, I’m going to pretend nothing happened. Rebuild those boundaries brick by brick if I have to. I push off the railing and take a few deep inhales, sending the apprehension in my chest out with them.
“Hey. Ready to go?” Wes says from over my shoulder. His voice is quiet but sure, steady, and I’m almost afraid to turn around and see what he’s thinking. I prepare myself to find regret in his eyes, silently hoping there will be some residual heat there too. I don’t know what I want him to feel, probably because I’m drowning in my own uncertainty.
I suck in one more breath before spinning to face him, but end up refusing to meet his eyes.
Chicken.
“Yup,” I say, popping the P a little more than necessary. Goodness, I’m awkward.
My eyes fall on his torso—the safest place I can think to look—and I take in the way his arms are braced on the sides of the doorframe. I wonder if he plans to move. Before I reach him, he steps sideways just enough so I can slide past him with only a hair’s breadth of space between our bodies. I ignore his sharp intake of air and walk straight to the door, Wes following me without a word.
The elevator ride is silent. Even in the early days, we couldn’t help but banter with each other, and now I can barely bring my eyes to his, though I can feel him watching me. When the doors open, his hand instantly comes to my back, and it burns through the fabric of my top like a wildfire. There’s not a hint of tentativeness in the touch as his fingers flex against me, and I finally gather the courage to look up at him from under my lashes .
He smiles his regular old Wes smile. Cool and confident.
I let myself smile back. This will be fine.
There’s a car waiting at the curb, as neither of us wanted to worry about driving home later. He opens the door for me and I slide in, letting him take the lead and chat with the driver as we head out of the city toward Bellevue Hill where Breck and Talia live. I stare out my window, distracting myself by watching the buildings and lights fade into trees and houses. At some point, Wes covers my hand with his.
“Hey.”
I sigh and sink into my seat slightly. Wes’s salty ocean scent surrounds me, reminding me how it clung to my pillows for days after he slept in my bed.
“I’m sorry,” I say at the same time Wes says, “You okay?”
We both laugh and I let my eyes roam his face. There’s no discomfort or awkwardness there. He motions with his hand, indicating that I can talk first.
“I-I shouldn’t have barged into your room like that. I’m sorry.”
He huffs another laugh. “No worries. I probably should have closed my door since I knew you were coming over.”
He sounds so unaffected, nonchalant. Am I just blowing this out of proportion? So I’ve seen him naked—it’s not like I’ve never seen a naked man before. I’m about to open my mouth, to talk this out just like we did that first day on my patio when we were honest and earnest in acknowledging our attraction, but the car comes to a stop and my words die in my throat.
“We okay?” he asks, his thumb skimming over the top of my hand .
“Yeah, we’re okay,” I reassure him as a shiver coasts down my spine.
He climbs out of the car and lopes around to my side, opening my door for me. He takes my hand to help me step out, then settles his on the center of my back again to lead us up the path. He doesn’t bother with the doorbell, just turns the knob and walks right in. I’m reminded of my excitement for seeing him in his element with his friends.
I’ve surfed with Breck a lot, and I’ve enjoyed getting to know Talia the few times she’s met us for coffee, but this is more intimate. I also finally get to meet Willow tonight, which feels big somehow. With the way Wes talks about her, you’d think they actually share blood.
We follow the voices through the quaint and cozy house. It’s simply decorated and follows a neutral pallet from the look of each room we pass. That must be Talia’s doing. I would expect something much more vibrant and eclectic from Breck, or at the very least beachy. I’m also surprised there aren’t toys and kid stuff everywhere. Talia is clearly tidier than I would be if I had a seven-year-old.
We reach the back door and I can see the leaping colors of the bonfire in the backyard as Wes pulls it open.
“I can’t believe you got started without me,” he calls in mock-outrage.
“Uncle Wes!” A sing-song voice carries across the yard followed by a tiny body running to collide with his legs.
He catches her, lifting until her feet kick above the ground and ruffles her hair, an affectionate smile on his face. “Hey, kiddo. ”
“We all know the party doesn’t start until you get here, don’t worry.” Breck walks over, planting a kiss on my cheek then pulling Wes into a hug, effectively sandwiching Willow between them.
“Daddy! You’re squishing me!” Willow squirms between them and Wes lets loose a full-body laugh.
Breck releases them both and Willow slides back to the ground only to have her eyes land on me.
“Willow, I want to introduce you to my friend.” Wes looks between us. “This is Joss. She lives next door to me.”
What will Willow think of her Uncle Wes bringing a friend to her house? I couldn’t blame her if she’d wanted him all to herself. I offer her a smile and extend my hand—do you shake hands with a seven-year-old? No, apparently you do not. She launches herself at me this time and wraps her arms around my legs.
“Hi!” she squeaks out. I chirp a laugh at how adorable she is. She is so like her dad—over-the-top affectionate in the best way.
“Hi there. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Your dad and uncle have told me a lot about you.” I run my hand down the sheet of smooth dark hair that is just like Talia’s. She pulls back and I’m met with a striking combination of both her parents. Talia’s olive skin tone, Breck’s bright blue eyes, and a smile accented with dimples to match his on her cheeks.
“Mom and Dad said I needed to get ready for bed.” She juts out her bottom lip. “But I made them promise I could stay up to see Uncle Wes.” She turns to her dad with big puppy-dog eyes to go with her pout. “Can’t I stay up a little longer, Daddy? Please.” She elongates the word, clasping her hands in front of her like a prayer .
Talia appears over Breck’s shoulder and addresses her daughter with her no-nonsense mom voice. “Willow, love, you can come back out to say good night after you brush your teeth and get your pjs on.”
Her little shoulders sag and she offers us a dejected wave as she trudges into the house.
Breck watches her go looking almost as sad as she did. “We could have let her stay up a little later.” His eyes come back to Talia.
“You’re too soft on her.” She presses her hand to Breck’s cheek. “We already let her stay up to say hi to Wes and meet Joss.” She turns to us. “Can I get you two something to drink?”
I glance down at my empty hands and then up to Wes as realization dawns. “I forgot the bottle of wine on the counter.” I turn back to Talia, feeling a niggling of frustration with myself. I hate showing up to something like this empty-handed. “I had a bottle to bring and completely forgot it.”
“You were a little distracted.” Wes winks at me and his smile pulls wide. I blush crimson at the insinuation, then swat at him with my hand.
“No worries. We have plenty. Can I get you a glass?” There’s a smirk playing around Talia’s lips, one that tells me she’s picking up on whatever energy Wes and I are throwing out tonight.
“Sure, that would be great,” I say, willing my face to cool.
“Talia made her famous laksa and we have Tim Tams for dessert—your favorite,” Breck says, and though it’s directed at Wes, I smile because they’re my favorite too. We’ve eaten our way through more packages in the last two months than I care to think about .
He jumps in to show us where the food is, and points to the cooler for Wes to grab a cold one. A few people are already sitting with drinks and bowls of laksa, chatting and enjoying the warmth from the fire. Wes told me there would be a mix of work and college friends here, and some are both. He doesn’t move his hand from my back as we walk to the circle of chairs. It’s not possessive, just friendly, like he wants to make sure I know he’s here, that we’re okay.
The group around the fire stands as we approach, and so begin the introductions. There’s Drew, who I’ve heard a good bit about from Wes. He’s not Wes’s favorite person, but I’m not about to write him off without getting to know him first. Nancy is another colleague from Adventure Chasers, but she was also in Breck’s business program at U of Sydney. So was her husband, Steve, who grips me in a strong handshake and offers a kind smile. The last couple lives next door to Breck and Talia, and it appears Wes hasn’t met them yet either, making me feel a little less like an outsider.
“I’m Jimmy,” the tall, bespectacled man offers, then gestures to his wife. “This is Jane… and that over there is Joey.” He points to the pram sitting next to their chairs. “He’s out for the count and can sleep through anything, so don’t worry about waking him up.”
Talia brings me a glass of red wine and offers me a woolen blanket for my legs as I take a seat by the fire. August nights are still brisk, but being out here and seeing the stars in the sky is well worth it. I love watching the city lights from my balcony, the way they dance on the harbour waters, but you don’t get the stars.
“Want some laksa?” Wes asks.
With my head tipped back to look at the night sky, his voice slides down my neck as he bends to meet me. Shivers prickle along my arms at this closeness, and our eyes lock for just a moment. It’s a pointless question though because he knows I’m not one to turn down food and I’ve been hearing about this noodle soup for weeks.
“You know I do. Thanks.”
I watch him walk over to the table where Talia nearly pounces on him. I only catch the way he motions with his hands and glances back at me, grinning cheekily. He’s back a minute later, handing me a bowl that smells delectable as he drops into the chair beside me.
With a startling “Boo!” Willow appears at Wes’s side. He almost drops his bowl, leading to riotous laughter around the fire. Willow’s girlish giggle stands out above the rest. He sets his bowl aside so she can wrap him in a big hug. She releases him and pulls me into a matching embrace. What must it be like to give affection and love so freely? I think I could learn a thing or two from this tiny human.
“Good night, kiddo,” Wes says, a soft look in his eyes.
“Good night, Uncle Wes. Good night, Joss,” she says over her shoulder as Talia ushers her off to bed and she pouts all the way up to the house. It’s the most adorably sad thing I’ve ever seen.
The group falls into comfortable conversation, everyone eating and complimenting Talia on dinner. College stories are shared between Breck, Wes, Nancy, and Steve. Talia was there for some of them, but she didn’t seem to be a staple member of their friend group at the time.
I get to hear about some of the tours they’ve set up recently, how the skydiving venture is going, and get the inside scoop on a surf trip they hope to do in the summer. I take note of how excited Wes sounds about going, my brain already whirring with the decision to take a week off work to go with him. I rarely take time off—haven’t had much reason to outside of my big trips with Jaz.
It doesn’t take long for me to pick up on the weird vibe that Wes must get from Drew at work. There’s something there under the surface, but it’s hard to pinpoint. At first, I think it’s because he’s the only one in the group who isn’t part of a couple. Not that Wes and I are that, but we came together, we’re sitting together. Drew is kind of the odd man out.
Yet he seems overly aware of Talia, and it gets my hackles up. I eye the way he watches the group, but particularly her, especially when she’s with Breck. Breck’s affection is on another level with her. Not that I can blame him, he’s at his own home for goodness’ sake, but Drew seems to bristle at the public displays. Like when Breck pulls her in close, nuzzling into her neck, or when he grabs her hand to tug her into his lap by the fire, covering them in a cozy blanket.
It’s not until I catch Drew’s eye that I shut down my people-watching (read: spying) and accept that I’m probably picking up on something that’s not there. Or that I’m already biased from what Wes has told me and not giving the guy a fair chance.
I yawn and roll my head along the back of my chair to look at Wes. Legs out long in front of him, hands behind his head, elbows wide—he’s the picture of ease. He’s at home here, I realize.
I wonder if he could see himself putting roots down, or if he’s just biding his time until he goes back to his true home in the States. It makes my heart hurt to think of him leaving, which is exactly why we can’t be more than friends. He must sense my gaze because he turns his head my way, giving me a smile that brings both dimples into sharp relief in the firelight. He’s so beautiful like this.
“You getting tired? We can go.”
I don’t want to drag him away from his friends, but it’s been a long day and I’m fading fast.
“I think I’ll help Talia tidy up a bit.” I move to stand, and he starts to follow. I reach out and stop him, letting my fingers graze over the hairs of his forearm. He’s pushed the sleeves of his shirt up, warm from sitting this close to the fire. “No, I got it, you stay. Enjoy your friends.”
He glances down at my hand and smiles just a little wider. Does he know what his forearms do to me? He gives me a small nod and leans back in his chair, rejoining the conversation with the rest of the group.
I head over to where Talia is gathering everything from dinner and offer to help, grabbing as much as I can fit in my arms before following her into the house. We set everything on the counter, and she starts moving around the kitchen.
“How can I help?” I ask.
“Just keep me company, this shouldn’t take me long.” She glances over her shoulder, scanning the room to make sure we’re alone. “So, what’s going on with you and Wes?”
I probably should have seen that question coming, but nope. I am completely blindsided by it. My mouth hangs open like a fish, and I’m unable to form a coherent thought.
“Oh, um, nothing. We’re just friends.” I fumble out the response, and she throws me a I don’t believe you for a minute look.
If she had asked me yesterday, I probably would have been a bit more convincing. As it is, with the memory of a naked Wes and the way he pressed himself into me earlier, I don’t think I can convince myself there’s nothing going on here. Even if there shouldn’t be.
“Oh, come on now.” She gives me another one of those looks. “Even Breck has told me he’s never known Wes to be like this with a girl.”
I prepare my protest, ready with all the reasons we’re just friends—can only be friends—but she continues.
“Even with Brenna. Of course, Breck never saw them together in person, but still.”
“Brenna?” I say the name with too much emphasis to get away with it being casual. Who is Brenna?
Talia’s head whips around like she heard the words I didn’t say. Her dark ponytail nearly hits her in the face, surprise evident in her features. She must’ve assumed I know who Brenna is.
“Brenna…” She trails off. “She’s Wes’s ex. He hasn’t told you about her?”
“He told me he wasn’t a relationship guy.” I give a noncommittal shrug, trying to pretend it doesn’t sting.
“You’ve never wondered why?” she questions, and I want to roll my eyes. Of course I’ve wondered.
“I mean, I know his parents didn’t have a great relationship. He’s also moved around a lot. I guess I just figured he didn’t want to settle down.”
“You’re probably right there. He’s not really the ‘settling down’ type, but the closest he’s been was with Brenna. You know about the crash, right?” The condescending tone in her voice grates on me. As if she knows oh-so-much about him and I’m clearly out of the loop. As if her being with Breck somehow makes her the resident expert on all things Wes. This is the first time I’ve seen this side of her, and I don’t care for it.
“Yes, I know about that, but what does—”
“It has everything to do with it,” she cuts in. “Wes was with Brenna when he went on that last deployment, and my understanding from Breck is that she fancied being a fighter pilot’s girlfriend. Hoped she’d eventually be a fighter pilot’s wife.”
She pauses for emphasis, eyebrows raised, lips pursed, and I nearly lose my dinner at the thought of Wes married to someone else. Someone else ? God, what does that even mean? I’m almost thankful when Talia continues talking.
“Between his injuries and the PTSD from the crash, Wes decided he couldn’t be a fighter pilot anymore. She left.” Talia’s arms are crossed against her chest and though she’s not exactly smiling, there’s this vibe under the surface, like she knows she just dropped a bomb and she’s content to watch the world explode around it.
“ What ? Even after everything with Bobby, she just left?”
My face is hot with the anger I feel on Wes’s behalf. Seriously, how do I find this Brenna person and kick her ass?
“Yup. I don’t think Wes has dated since. I think he pretty much swore off relationships and women after that.” She smiles, and it seems genuine, but this whole interaction has given me whiplash. I continue to stand there in stunned silence as she looks me dead in the eye and says, “Until you.”
My heart falters a beat and I can’t find words to respond.
“So I guess I should ask you again… What’s going on with you and Wes?”