Chapter 24 Isla #2
Wes said he wanted me to cling to him, that I should be prepared for him not to let go. But maybe he got caught up in the moment, and my 911 text made him realize I didn’t, that I meant what I said.
I don’t realize how fast I’m running on the treadmill until Spencer appears in the mirror behind me.
I stumble and lose one second of momentum, nearly catapulting off the treadmill.
I sprint as quickly as I can to keep pace with the belt while hurriedly slamming on the speed button to bring it down.
“Are you trying to injure yourself before the competition?”
My hands land on my knees as I suck in oxygen. “I didn’t realize how fast I was running,” I answer through labored breaths. “Sometimes my hyperfocus takes over. It’s a coping mechanism, I guess.”
Spencer’s eyes widen. “You love him.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“You love Wes.” He drifts closer to me, eyes running over my face. “I should’ve seen it sooner, but you’re kind of an evil genius at concealing your emotions.”
Goosebumps pebble across my arms. “That’s not—”
“You don’t need to admit it to me, Isla, but you should tell him.”
“You told me to let him loose when real feelings came into play.”
“Because I didn’t think you’d fall for him.” Spencer holds up a hand when I try to open my mouth to deny it again. “Hypothetically. Oh, this is working out better than I thought. Maybe I’m the real evil genius.”
My heartbeat thrums faster—a betrayal. I know that he’s not saying this to poke and prod at my insecurities. He thinks he’s helping me. He’s also my opposite when it comes to filtering his thoughts, not always catching himself before he spills them onto the table for all to see.
“Oh, and since I know you’re wondering, Wes is out of town. We found out there’s a lien on our father’s house, which needs to be resolved before we can complete the sale. It might take a few days. He didn’t want to wait and lose the deal.”
Hence the lawyers.
“Why didn’t he tell me that?”
“Probably the same reason your lovely but stubborn ass hasn’t contacted him.”
“He’s the one who didn’t text me back.” I cradle my face in my hands and let out a groan. I can’t believe I just said that. “Oh, God. I sound like a teenager. Please slam me into the ice. Clearly, my brain needs unscrambling.”
Spencer throws an arm around my shoulders. “Talk to him, Isla. He’s not that scary.”
“I’m not afraid of him.”
He gives me a cut-me-a-fucking-break look.
“I don’t want to make the wrong decision again,” I explain, casting an arm out to the side. “I can’t be collateral damage of someone else’s choices. I barely recovered last time.”
“Just because something didn’t turn out well doesn’t mean you made the wrong decision.”
It’s hard for me to accept that as true. The regret from my past relationships is so ingrained in me.
Spencer squeezes my shoulder. “Wes is the best person I know. He’ll hurt himself before he hurts you. I trust him with my life, and I’d trust him with yours.”
“Comforting.”
“It should be. You’re my partner, which makes you my family, but you’re also my friend, separate from all that. I’ll always stand by you, and tell you the truth.”
My heart stutters, not used to hearing emotions stated so plainly. “I still can’t figure out what you’re getting out of this. You’d be better off without me.”
“I’m doing my best skating with you. You know how good you are. Stop doubting it all because of some asshole that was beneath your talent.” He claps his hands together. “All right, now that today’s episode of Days of Our Lives is over, can we practice?”
“That would be a good idea.” Linden’s voice makes us jump, and I spin toward the door of the gym where she leans against the frame. “This is the time for focus, not”—she flicks her wrist rapidly, gesturing from me to Spencer—“whatever this is. Let’s go.”
Spencer flashes a boyish smile, holding one arm out toward the door. “You heard her.”
Three days until competition
Spencer and I nail every element, making Linden so happy that she gives us her version of a smile as we leave the rink.
He knocks into my shoulder. “I told you we were ready.”
“Well, I’ve always had it. It was you who was the question.”
“Oh, is that right?” Spencer seizes my side, and I squirm away, letting out a high-pitched yelp. It grows when my gaze snags on a figure ten feet from us.
Wes.
His forest green Palmer City Wolves T-shirt conforms to his strong frame, a painful reminder of how good he feels beneath my fingertips.
And don’t get me started on the gray sweatpants.
It’s been too long since I’ve had him beneath me, on top of me, around me.
I want to snuggle up beside him as he tells me about the past few days and climb him like a tree in equal measure.
“Oh, hi,” I say, straightening to my full height, an uncharacteristic shyness coming over me.
Wes never responded to my last text, the joke I sent about how he told me to use him. I’ve tried, and failed, not to fixate on it. He’s had a lot going on these past few days. There’s a weariness to his expression, a darkness beneath his eyes that suggests sleep hasn’t soothed his exhaustion.
“You look like shit, brother,” Spencer says. A concern underlies his words despite the wolfish smile on his face. “You just get back?”
“An hour ago.”
“Everything resolved?”
Wes shrugs. “Yes.”
Spencer claps him on the shoulder as he passes, heading toward the locker room. “Glad to have you back. We’ll catch up later.” He looks over his shoulder at me. “See you at the car, Isla.”
Wes runs a hand through his hair, dropping his gaze to the ground.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Better.”
“Yeah,” I agree, stubbing the toe pick of my skate into the floor. “It's always good to come home after a trip.”
“It's good to see you, Red.” My head lifts. I watch his throat bob, swallowing hard before he adds, “I missed you.”
“But you stopped responding, and I wasn’t sure—”
In a blink, Wes strides forward and pulls me against him, lowering his mouth to mine.
I lose my train of thought, my leash on my emotions, and each strand of annoyance from not hearing from him the last few days.
His mouth works like magic, erasing every worry and doubt, until all that’s left are the feelings I keep trying to ignore.
The ones that simmer deep in my belly when he’s near.
I throw myself into this kiss, letting it speak the words I don’t say.
My hands land on each side of his head, sinking into his silky, unruly hair.
One of his hands palms my ass, keeping me in place as he devours my mouth.
I’ll never tire of his soft lips urgently sliding against mine, the occasional tease of his tongue. I whimper each time it withdraws.
It bothered me not hearing from Wes because I missed him too. In this way, and every other.
He leans his forehead against mine. “Your focus should be on your skating. We can talk about everything after this weekend.”
Part of me wants to push the issue, but I always wanted my romantic partner to take my career as seriously as I do. Wes doesn’t want to interfere with my preparation, willing to put what’s best for me above everything else. So I’m going to let him.
“I’ll, uh, see you when I’m back?”
“And in the crowd.”
“You’ll be there?”
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “I never missed a chance to watch you skate, Isla, even when it hurt.”
“I wish I had seen you play hockey.”
“Play your cards right, and I’ll break out some highlights.”
I raise onto my tiptoes to kiss him briefly on the mouth, scraping my teeth along his bottom lip as I withdraw. “You’re going to need to make sure we’re alone for that.”
He squeezes my hand. “It’s a date.”
The dreaded What are we doing? question blinks like a fucking neon sign in my mind again. We care about each other. We’re attracted to each other. But we’re also two jaded people who don’t want to repeat their messy romantic history, and who agreed to be casual.
“You’re going to be great.” Wes’s finger rubs the back of my hand in a soothing circular pattern. “You’ve worked your ass off. You’ve done everything you could to prepare. You’re ready, Isla.”
I wrap my arms around Wes’s middle, resting my head over his heart.
The words don’t exist to explain what it means to have him recognize my hard work and believe in me.
I’m hit with that same rush I feel when I land a difficult element, and the crowd moves from collectively holding their breath to roaring to life with appreciation.
A burst of warmth in my chest like a bonfire sparking to life on a cold winter’s night.
I didn’t need someone else to believe in me to know that I’m talented, that I can do anything that I commit to, but it feels fucking incredible to have it.
I lift my head off him. When our gazes collide, the embers of that fire spread beyond the boundaries of my chest. It’s impossible to ignore these feelings any longer and pretend that I don’t want more with Wes Davidson. After this weekend, I’ll confess the scary truth in my heart.
“I’ll see you in New York, Taz.”
I want Wes more than I thought possible. I crave his opinion, his steady presence, and his longing gazes. He could shatter my heart. It’s a terrifying prospect knowing that power rests with another person.
I head down the hallway toward the locker rooms, glancing at him every few steps. He tracks my movements, a smile etched across his face. He’s fucking beautiful when he smiles.
I’m overrun with gratitude that it’s me who puts it there.