Chapter 17 The Guys
THE GUYS
BECKETT
Istay on deck after Ashley and Luna duck out for hair appointments, letting the sun burn through the last of my hangover.
That kiss… yeah. I wasn’t prepared for that. For how natural it felt. For how quick my heart went straight to my throat.
She didn’t pull away.
Didn’t stiffen.
Didn’t act like she was forcing it for Luna’s benefit.
No—Ashley kissed me back.
And yeah, she told me she doesn’t love me anymore. But that didn’t feel like a woman pretending.
I take a long pull from my water bottle, grateful for the Tylenol Ashley left on the table. My head’s still pounding from last night, and it turns out, driving in circles for two hours isn’t a cure—but my boys gave it their best shot.
God, they tried.
Even with my skull throbbing, the memory makes me smile.
Blakey might hesitate with every other sport known to man, but stick that kid in a go-kart and he becomes a tiny assassin. Max nearly spun me out twice, cackling like a lunatic.
With Ashley and Luna gone, Tay and Courtney drift off toward the bar, leaving their loungers behind like an invitation.
The guys don’t hesitate.
Noah drops into one chair, stretching out. Simon takes the other while Rocky drags another chair closer, angling in, cutting us off from the rest of the deck.
A huddle.
Rocky tips his beer toward me. “So,” he says, casual as hell. “Your wife thinks it’s a tattoo?”
I don’t answer.
He doesn’t let it go.
“Which means,” he continues, “You still aren’t really telling her shit.”
Noah’s grin fades. Just a little. “Luna mentioned you two were having a rough patch.” He frowns. “But… Is it that bad?”
I open my mouth. Close it again.
This stuff is supposed to be kept under wraps.
“Ash doesn’t want Luna to know,” I say finally, keeping my voice low as I glance around the deck. “Not this week. Not with the wedding.” I gesture vaguely. “But yeah… Ash and I… Things aren’t great.”
Noah nods slowly, like that tells him more than I meant it to.
Simon hasn’t said a word. He’s just watching me, eyes sharp, cataloging.
Then he speaks. “I can’t believe that artist even agreed to it,” he says dryly. “You were drunk. That alone should’ve been a hard no.”
Rocky lets out a low laugh. “Dude talked his way into that, I’m telling you. This guy could sell ice to a polar bear.”
Simon grimaces. “If that gets infected, best case? You’re miserable for months. Worst case?” He shakes his head. “You’re living with some serious regret.”
Jesus…
The guys all glance around. Noah visibly shudders.
“I know,” I mutter.
Rocky leans in, lowering his voice. “You want the doctor to take a look at it?”
I snort. “I’ll pass on that for now.”
“Fair enough.” And then Rocky lifts his beer. “To bad decisions made with good intentions.”
And oh, hell, I will definitely drink to that.
Noah taps his bottle against mine. “To surviving them.”
Simon hesitates, then joins in. “And not making them worse.”
We clink.
And even if half the things that matter still haven’t been said, for the first time in months, I don’t feel completely alone.
But then, of course, my phone vibrates, bringing me back to my reality.
Even in the middle of the ocean, I don’t have the luxury of ignoring it.
“I’m gonna head back down.” I push to my feet.
Rocky grins. “Without trying the cocktail of the day?”
“I’m never drinking with you again,” I say, grabbing my shirt.
“Yeah, careful,” Simon calls after me. “Who knows what else you’d put a hole through.”
Noah laughs. “Not sure he could do worse.”
“Funny,” I mutter, heading for the stairs.