Chapter 33 I Wish
I WISH
ORAZIO
“You ready for the best part?” Jessa says, leading Harley by the hand through the field. His eyes are squeezed shut behind his glasses, and he laughs with a wide smile cutting his cheeks.
He looks good like this. Happy.
I once thought I could be the reason behind their joy; sometimes I contribute to it, like now, but I wish it could be more.
Harley doesn’t understand that I’m a broken man; that it’s not a matter of not wanting him, it’s that I cannot give him all of me when half of my heart is missing.
Would that not be a disservice to love? To not give him all that he deserves? I’ve always thought it better to disappoint him with none of me than torture him with half.
“Okay, open your eyes,” Jessa says.
His bright, burnt umber irises trace over the checkered blanket, spread wide over the grass and placed at the edge of the field, half under the shade and away from the rowdy folks closer to the concert stage.
A picnic basket sits open, full of simple dinners for the vegetarian—sandwiches, fruits, bread, and jams—carefully chosen to counter all the fried snacks he inevitably would eat at the main fair.
The past two years he’s complained of a stomachache on the way home. Hopefully not this year.
“You guys set up a picnic for the Sunset Series?” Harley asks, though he knows the answer.
I had snuck away after the dunk tank, telling them to enjoy some rides while I dropped my soaked underwear in the car and came to set up. He flops onto the blanket, drawing his hands behind his head. The action rucks his shirt up, exposing a sliver of his pale stomach.
“Hell yeah. Close enough to hear the music, but not too close that we’re sitting on top of another family,” Harley continues.
Jessa sits cross-legged next to him, grabs a beer from the basket, and cracks it open. “Want one, babe?”
Harley holds out his hand, sighing contently when she hands the can over. He takes a gulp, and condensation on the can drips onto his neck, rolling down his bobbing Adam’s apple. Their eyes are locked, as if having a silent conversation; Jessa smirks, and Harley’s scent grows stronger in the air.
It’s not as sweet as Alice’s sugar and vanilla, but it’s just as dizzying—cinnamon and a twinge of old paper that reminds me of the castle library he loved to get lost in back home. I shift on my feet, crossing my arms over my chest and trying not to draw attention to how effected I am by him.
Jessa cracks a second beer, turning to Alice. “You want one, Trouble?”
Alice stands at the edge of the blanket with a pensive look on her face.
She mirrors me, arms crossed over her chest. The white linen button down she has on underneath her overall shorts is wrinkled from pushing it up her elbows all day.
Platinum glints around her neck, dipping below the open collar, as it always does.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without them on, and while I’ve gotten used to the reminder of her betrayal, seeing them doesn’t hurt any less.
All of a sudden, she brightens. It’s a quick shift, the one second it takes for a switch to flip. But I caught the darkness there, right before the light turned on.
Her smile is tight, though her eyes gaze softly upon the duo on the blanket.
“Yep,” she says, popping the p and making grabby hands as she sits on the blanket.
“Ori?” Jessa asks, hand poised above another can.
“Nah, I’m driving remember?” I say, easing to the grass and resting my forearms on my bent knees. “Toss me a water.”
“We’re going to be here long enough that you can have one beer.” Jessa rolls her eyes, but Harley smacks her thigh.
“Let him self-sacrifice if he wants to,” he teases, though his attention is trained on me. “More for us in the meantime.”
I shake my head, catching the water bottle Jessa throws my way and cracking the cap. The words are pointed, and I’d be stupid not to catch their hidden meaning. He’s openly inviting me into their forming pack—but that’s not something I can entertain.
I told him earlier that it’s better if we all stay friends. Friends I can handle. Friends means I won’t break my heart again.
Later, after the food has been picked through and all the beers drained, Harley, Jessa, and Alice fall into a cuddle pile.
Harley is at the center, arm wrapped around Alice’s shoulder, while the other rests on the strip of exposed stomach between Jessa’s shorts and cropped T-shirt.
Jessa’s using Harley’s lap as a pillow, and her hand is gripped around one of Alice’s. They’re a true tangle of limbs.
Then, Harley and Jessa fall asleep. I don’t know how they can do that, nap anywhere. I could never be comfortable enough to let my guard down in public, though part of it may be the soft singer-songwriter opening act crooning on stage, lulling them into peaceful rest.
I haven’t been getting a lot of that lately.
I wish I could join them.
But my beast is raging in my chest. Not in anger, but something darker.
There’s a ferality caged by my ribs, one spurred on by their combined scents.
I’m not usually around all three of them at the same time, and it’s harder to ignore than I thought it would be.
It doesn’t help that their joy and subtle flirting make the scents stronger, either.
Now that they’re asleep, I let my head fall to my knees and sneak a greedy breath.
Harley’s cinnamon combines with Alice’s sugary vanilla to create a snickerdoodle cookie, fresh out of the oven. My mouth waters and my teeth grind as I try to focus on the scent that riles me up the least.
Jessa’s is subtle, but it wraps around the other two like a cocoon. It’s deeper than Harley’s cinnamon, a mix of amber and clove, with a hint of ginger. It’s safe. Complimentary. Pleasant, but not addictive to me in the way the other two are.
I need to get a fucking grip.
“Dude,” Alice whispers. “Why are you still over there?”
“What?” I ask, snapping my head up. Alice is staring at me from her place tucked under Harley’s arm. My shoulders tense, and my pulse races, as if I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t.
“Come here,” she huffs, her free hand waving me over. “You look uncomfortable.”
I shake my head, tightening my arms around my bent knees. I won’t admit to her that it isn’t the most comfortable position, sitting hunched on the grass, but the alternative is much worse.
“Why not?”
“There’s not enough room.”
“There’s plenty of room.” She pats the open blanket next to her. “I swear, I won’t bite.”
When I only give her a deadpanned stare, she clicks her tongue impatiently.
“I’m trying to be nice.” Alice’s hushed voice sends a shiver down my spine. “I’m sorry that I beat you at all the games. But don’t be a sore loser and pout all night. Harley will be happy when he wakes to see you with us.”
It’s the right thing for her to say, because I find myself crawling onto the blanket after her birthday guilt trip. I stretch out, and my limbs thank me as I do, though I ensure there’s a considerable distance between the trio and me.
It doesn’t stop their heat from tingling my skin, though.
“Happy?” I grumble.
Alice hums, gazing off at the concert. Her free hand scratches at her collar, fiddles with the chain that holds her rings, then drops back to her side. “Nearly there.”
It’s a loaded two words. My tongue pushes a question against my clenched teeth, but I manage to hold it back.
Something soft brushes my hand, and I freeze at the shockwaves shooting up my arm.
Alice’s pinky brushes mine.
“Friendly advice?” she whispers, and my gaze lifts from our touching hands to her kind crystal eyes. “Stop fighting it.”
My throat constricts as I whisper back, “What?”
“Him,” she says. “I see the way you two look at each other.”
My head shakes. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Alice.”
“Maybe not. Or maybe I do,” she titters.
But she doesn’t understand. She doesn’t see as she should.
“It’s not him I’m fighting.”