Chapter 22
Isla
Iwake the next morning, still feeling like I’m half-dreaming as my mind replays the events from the night before.
Wes recounting the moment he first laid eyes on me with such clarity as if it happened last week rather than fourteen years ago.
Wes warning Chip to watch what he says to me.
Wes entwining his hand with mine like we were a team.
I can still hear the words, Knees here, Red, in his deep-voiced command and the groans that spilled from his lips when I traced my tongue up his shaft.
Wes set off an earthquake through my world last night, an exhilarating and terrifying development that my mind hasn’t fully wrapped itself around.
Brooks walks into the apartment as I reach the coffee machine, rescuing me from the dangerous direction of my thoughts. Sweat covers his gray tank, and he’s still breathing hard from his run.
“Why didn’t you wake me? I would’ve gone with you,” I say.
He pulls out his earbuds, depositing them into their case. “Thought you could use the extra sleep after last night’s fiasco. Plus, don’t you have practice this morning?”
I turn from him, placing the coffee cup into the machine and clicking the brew button. “No, I’ve got a couple skating lessons this morning, including one with Thea.”
He lets out a sharp laugh. “By the way, that man is so fucking in love with you.”
The words land like a hard shove to my chest. “What?”
“Wes was practically shouting it at the dinner table last night. Don’t pretend that you don’t see it.”
I make a pffft sound, focusing entirely on the coffee in my cup. “He is not. It was just for show.”
Spencer’s warning to walk away if Wes gets too attached before I break his heart seemed ludicrous at the time, but so much has changed between Wes and me.
“Isla.”
“Brooks,” I mock. I fling an arm out toward him. “I’ve never seen you in love with anyone, so how would you know?”
“Not seeing it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
My brother has always been quiet about his love life, even when I pushed him on it. He’s never been serious about any woman as far as I know.
“Are you saying there’s someone in your life?”
He slumps against the doorframe of his bedroom. “What a loaded question.” I remain quiet, hoping he’ll continue because from the way his lips twist into a grimace, he needs to talk. “You remember that assistant coaching gig at UPC?”
I nod. Brooks excitedly told me about the possibility of coaching for his alma mater weeks ago but when he didn’t give me an update, I assumed it didn’t pan out for him.
“Well, I got it.”
“That’s fantastic,” I say, unsure how that connects with the topic at hand.
“Yeah, it’s perfect for me. Except…one of the other assistant coaches and I have history, from college. I’ve never gotten over it.” He sighs, running a hand over his hair. “I’ve never gotten over her.”
The admission stuns me silent. My brother has harbored heartache for more than a decade. It explains why he’s never introduced me to anyone he’s dated.
“Brooks,” I say softly.
He holds up a hand. “It’s fine. I accepted a long time ago that I wasn’t good for her. But—”
“Now, you have to see her every day.”
It’s hard for me to believe that the brother who’s always supported me, who makes me laugh, and has one of the kindest hearts I know, wouldn’t be good for someone.
But he’s struggled with depression and addiction for half his life, mainly in secret.
Even now, while in recovery, he still can’t see himself as I do.
“You’re a different person now,” I say.
He sharply shakes his head. “I’m not. I have better tools at my disposal, that’s all. But I’ll always have the same brain. I can’t change that.”
“Well, I like who you are. I’m sure this woman will too, once she gets to know you better.”
He laughs hollowly. “She hates me, especially now that I’m encroaching on her domain.”
“Wes and I didn’t like each other at first.”
“So, you admit it,” Brooks says. “You have feelings for him.”
I throw my head back. “Oh, my God, stop.” I point a finger at him. “And don’t think you can turn this around on me.”
“Can I offer you advice?” He strides into the kitchen, snagging a glass from the cabinets.
“Breaking my mind this morning hasn’t been fun enough for you?”
He opens the fridge and begins filling the water from his filtration container. “Don’t fuck it up. You deserve the best, I. Let yourself have it.”
I lean against the counter, taking a long sip of my coffee. “So, what? I should throw caution to the wind, let some guy whose presence I couldn’t stand—”
He holds up a hand. “Be serious. You never couldn’t stand him. You hated that you liked him. And Wes seems good for you.”
“Well, this has been fun, but I’m going to get ready to see the guy who’s apparently in love with me.” I gesture behind me, over my shoulders. “Don’t want to look like a shlub.”
Brooks shakes his head a little, clearly exasperated with how I sidestepped this conversation.
“I’ve gotta go into town for an appointment. I can drive you in…fifteen minutes?”
“Sure, if you zip it on the love talk.”
“It wouldn’t bother you if it isn’t true,” Brooks croons as I stride toward my room.
I give him the middle finger. His answering laughter chases me down the hall, but it’s his words that linger far longer.
Wes’s car is the only one in the lot when Brooks drops me at the rink thirty minutes later. I find him smacking pucks into the net from the blue line with an impressive amount of concentration.
He’s so focused that he doesn’t hear me enter the rink, not turning until I’m halfway through lacing up my skates. Within seconds, he’s in front of me.
“Hey.” One side of his lips tugs up.
He looks fucking hot decked out in his hockey gear, sweat-soaked brown hair hovering above his collarbone. His cheeks pink from exertion. I want to jump him.
“Hey.” I return his smile.
He slides onto the bench next to me. “How long have you been here?”
“A few minutes. I wasn’t sure it was safe to interrupt your display.”
“You can always interrupt me, Isla.”
I finish with my skates, then make a show of pretending to think over his words, one hand massaging my chin like I’m deep in thought. “Hmm, that’s interesting because I happen to remember being instructed to ‘not bother you unless I had to.’”
Wes chuckles. “So someone got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
I point to my face. “You better get used to it. I’m not a morning person.”
I’m hit with the immediate instinct to downplay the comment, but Wes’s face breaks into a slow smile that stops me in my tracks.
“It would be a deal breaker if you were a morning person, Red.”
I shift in my seat, draping one leg over the bench between us. “Okay, I’ve wondered something. How did you survive Spencer’s sunshine every freaking morning growing up?”
Wes’s hand lands on my leg, little pinpricks erupting along my skin despite the barrier of my leggings. “It’s been the biggest burden of my life.”
I laugh. “No one should be that happy all the time.”
“It's not natural,” he agrees. “I swear he could find the upside to skating being outlawed.”
“I would be more well-rested this morning, that's for sure.”
Wes and I jolt in surprise at the sound of Spencer’s voice, not having heard him sneak into the rink.
I hop to my feet, leaning against the boards and crossing my arms. “I didn’t know you’d be here this morning.”
“And miss a chance to spread my sunshine and cheer to you misers?” Spencer flashes us a grin before plopping down on the bench, taking my spot, and getting to work on his skates. “Besides, I’d never miss a family skate.”
“It’s not a family skate. This is a lesson for Thea. Where is she, anyway?”
Spencer glances up at me. “Thea’s having a bit of a rough morning, but she’ll be out soon.”
I haven’t talked to Thea since she got into that fight at her hockey camp, and I’m kicking myself for not checking in sooner.
Wes said that she hasn’t had any more issues, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t stewing inside like I would be.
I’m not sure how being around me will help her, but if Wes thinks it will, I’m going to do whatever I can to make this a good morning for her.
“We’re all here, so it’s a family skate. Including you, Isla. You’re my partner, so you’re part of the Davidson clan. Them’s the rules.” Spencer finishes one skate and moves to the next. He gives us a cheeky smile. “I’m guessing dinner went well last night.”
He definitely spotted Wes’s hand on my leg earlier.
Wes catches my eye. “It had its moments.”
Mercifully, Thea storms down the tunnel toward the rink before Spencer can say anything else, or I melt into a puddle from that look from Wes. She doesn’t say anything and instead rushes onto the ice, beginning to skate laps around the rink.
“I’ve got this,” I tell the guys, and rush after her. “Thea!”
She doesn’t slow down, so it takes ten seconds to reach her. I loop my arm through hers, securing myself to her with my other hand. She finally comes to a stop, and I notice her red-rimmed eyes. She hiccups, then rests her head against my shoulder and lets herself cry.
My heart breaks.
We stay like this for a while until Thea’s breathing normalizes into slow, even breaths. She pulls back from me, wiping her eyes and sucking in a deep breath.
“This is so embarrassing,” she mumbles, staring down at her skates.
“I don’t think it’s embarrassing. Wanna talk about it?”
Thea’s gaze slowly drags up to meet mine.
“I miss my mom, which is so stupid because she abandoned me for a TV show. And when I finally got to talk to her last night for the first time in weeks, she asked me what I thought about staying with Uncle Wes for longer, like for the next school year.” She bites her lip once the emotion starts to overpower her again.
“I miss my friends and my team, and my room and my bed. I want to go home.”
I had the same feeling whenever I visited my parents’ house from boarding school. My childhood house never felt like a home.