Chapter 30 #2
He does an excellent job of masking his disappointment, but I glimpse it in the downward twitch of his mouth. In the slight sag of his shoulders. I hate that I’m letting him down—it kills me—but I can’t be out here with Mason. I can’t.
“Are you sure?” Wes asks, checking in on me as always. “Do you need anything? Do you want me to come?”
“No, no, I’m okay,” I assure, guilt churning my stomach at his attentiveness. Even when I’ve let him down, he’s asking how he can help me. I don’t deserve it. “You stay here and have fun. I’m just tired. Thank you, thou—”
I stop speaking as Mason enters the living room, Cory tailing him with cases of beer stacked in his arms. The air drains from my lungs.
I struggle to take a breath, my entire body tensing up as Mason’s eyes single me out.
For a moment I debate using Wes as a human shield, but that would be crazy, not to mention obvious.
My skin overheats. Every pore begins to sweat. Wes kisses my cheek, and it takes everything in me not to recoil. “Get some rest,” he murmurs. “I’ll be in later.”
I nod. Start to retreat. Mason’s voice stops me dead. “Not in the mood to play, Ivy?”
My name on his lips makes my stomach revolt. I shake my head, not trusting my voice to remain steady.
Mason’s mouth curls up. “Aw, come on,” he says. “We’ll be uneven otherwise.”
I didn’t think about the fact that me leaving makes their number odd, and I feel immediately worse. Air gets trapped in my windpipe, and I sputter out, “I-I’m sorry.”
Mason full-on smirks because I just apologized to him, and I want to kill myself. “You sure we can’t persuade you to stay?”
“Ace, it’s all good,” says Wes, coming to my rescue. “I can sit out if need be.”
Before Mason has a chance to respond, Malorie and Jamie bound into the room, chatting loudly and toting a pitcher of daiquiris. I squeeze Wes’s hand and use the distraction to slip away, up the stairs and deeper into the house.
I retreat to the bedroom on wobbly legs, trying not to panic. Trying to downplay the trembling in my fingers. Sweat coats my skin. My hair sticks to my neck. I drop onto the edge of the mattress with my head in my hands and swallow down a scream. What do I do? What can I do?
Tell him the truth.
I stay seated for too long, paralyzed, before dragging myself to the bathroom to wash up.
After, I crawl into bed and just lay there, listening to the din of the music and laughter drifting up from downstairs.
My mind is exhausted, but my body is wired, and I don’t fall asleep.
I disappear inside my own head, sinking down, down, deeper into the shadowy recesses of my mind.
It’s late when the bedroom door opens. My body tenses up, on full alert, but when I hear the whispered, “Ives?” the nerves ease.
I don’t know why I do it, but I shut my eyes. I don’t respond. I pretend to be asleep as he slides into the bed behind me. As he plants a kiss on my temple. As his breathing evens out.
I don’t sleep a wink.
I slip out of bed while the house is still silent and pull on one of Wes’s enormous sweatshirts, letting it swallow me whole.
Careful to be quiet, I creep down the stairs and into the kitchen, noting that the place is a disaster from whatever games they played last night.
Ignoring the mess, I push open the sliding door and step out onto the deck.
The air in the house feels stale, but outside, I’m able to take a full breath.
Hovering at the railing, I watch the waves crash along the shore, the early morning sunlight sparkling off the water’s surface.
The ocean breeze is more aggressive today, whipping my hair across my face.
It feels like a slap, one I know I deserve, and I stand there and take it, allowing the wind to wreak havoc.
As I scan my surroundings, I suddenly realize that I’m not alone out here. Chloe sits in a rocking chair at the far end of the deck, staring off into the distance the same way I am.
“Morning,” I say quietly, walking over to her, but when she looks up at me, there’s something different about her expression. Something…off. She attempts a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and I wonder if she’s hungover or just sleep-deprived like me.
“Hey.” Her gaze drops to the coffee cup clasped in her hands, but she doesn’t drink it. It’s filled to the brim despite how long she’s been sitting out here and probably cold now.
“Everything okay?” I ask, dropping into the seat beside her.
Her eyes snap up. On closer inspection, I notice that they’re slightly red-rimmed. Maybe even puffy, as though she’s been crying. “Why?”
I swallow. I don’t want to offend her by saying she looks off, so I search for something neutral to ask. “How was last night?”
She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth as she debates my question, but before she has a chance to respond, male voices drift outside from the kitchen, drawing our attention.
I glance toward the window, and a shiver wracks down my spine at the sight of Wes talking to Mason.
Without thinking, I hug my arms around my chest, wishing I could make myself small.
Invisible. Beside me, Chloe jumps to her feet, and coffee sloshes over the edge of the mug and onto her sweatpants. She doesn’t seem to notice.
“I should shower,” she murmurs, eyes darting between the door and the window. Without another word, she retreats through the side door instead of the one leading to the kitchen, and I stare after her, wondering about her strange reaction.
It’s not long after that the deck door slides open, breaking my reverie. Wes’s voice wraps around me like a shield, blocking a bit of the windchill. “Hey, Ives. I brought you coffee.”
“Oh. Thank you,” I say, taking the mug from him. Letting the steam warm my face.
He smiles at me and plants a quick kiss on the top of my head. “Want to go for a walk on the beach when you’re done?”
I nod instantly, eager to get away from the house and spend some time just the two of us. “Definitely.”
Once I chug as much caffeine as possible, Wes and I make our way down to the beach. It’s even chillier out here, and I pull my hair into a bun to prevent lose strands from blowing in my face.
“I love the beach,” Wes tells me as we walk along the shoreline, hand in hand, our bare feet sinking into the sand. Away from the house, the tension in my shoulders eases a bit. I can almost pretend everything’s fine. “I’d like to live by it someday.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, squeezing Wes’s hand and trying to ground myself in the here and now. “But what about hurricanes? And sharks?”
“I’ll test my luck against the hurricanes, and sharks won’t bother you. Not really.”
“If you say so,” I mutter, unconvinced.
“Plus, I could take a shark.” I snort, earning a grin. “I could! You just have to punch it right between the eyes.”
“Yeah, but that’s after it’s already nibbled your leg as a snack.”
Without warning, Wes halts his steps and pulls me against him. He leans down and kisses me. A short, sweet peck. “Hmm. On second thought, maybe you should be worried about sharks since you taste so good. What is that?”
“Cherry ChapStick,” I tell him, my cheeks warming at the compliment.
He grins, pulling me closer. “I like it.”
He kisses me again, and I try to live in the moment. I try to enjoy him and us and the freedom this trip was supposed to offer. But with every second that passes, the things I can’t say threaten to suffocate me.
Tell him.
But what if the words are fatal?
You’re not going to believe me, but—
Remember how I told you I—
I don’t know how to tell you this, but—
I can’t. It all feels too big now. Unmanageable. Impossible.
We start walking again, my hand still in his, but my heart feels heavier than before. Maybe because I’m starting to accept that I can’t say what I need to, and the longer I hold it inside the worse it will ruin us.
For the rest of the morning, some veiled emotion has me memorizing every look, touch, and kiss that I share with Wes. I tuck them all away, saving them for later, because I’m worried that there’s no way we’ll survive once I tell him the truth.
Hours pass before I put a name to the emotion.
Grief.
I’m already mourning the end.
Despite the chill in the air, our last day is spent on the beach. The boys play volleyball while the girls lounge in beach chairs with blankets, occasionally glancing up at the game. Malorie and Jamie chug hard seltzers and cheer every time one of the guys sheds a layer of clothing.
“Take it off!” Malorie giggles, a little tipsy, as Paul sheds his sweatshirt.
“The t-shirt, too!” goads Jamie.
“My nipples will freeze,” whines Paul.
Malorie snorts. “So?”
“God, you guys are horny,” Cory teases, but proceeds to take off his sweatshirt as well. Jamie whoops in delight.
I glance at Wes. He doesn’t have a sweatshirt to shed, but I’m grateful he’s at least kept his t-shirt on. I’m pretty sure Malorie and Jamie would start salivating if they saw him shirtless.
They begin the next set, and Ben bumps the ball up with his forearms, setting Wes up for a spike, which he executes with little effort.
Ben, Wes, and Cory high five while Kaden, Paul, and Mason look pissed on the other side of the net.
I clap a little for Wes, and then glance around for Chloe, wondering why she’s not out here with us.
“Have you seen Chloe?” I ask Malorie.
“Oh, she left earlier,” she tells me. “Something about a family emergency, I think.”
My brow creases. “Oh. Thanks.”
I look back down at my book, trying to relocate the paragraph I was just reading, but my mind keeps drifting to Chloe and her weird behavior this morning on the deck. Surely nothing happened last night to make her leave...right?
I can’t help it. My eyes find Mason, but I quickly avert.
You’re projecting.
Shoving away the horrifying thought, I try to relax as much as possible. At this point, I’m counting down the hours until it’s time to leave—less than six now—and hoping I won’t be so on edge once we do.
“You fucker!” yells Mason, snapping my attention back to the game. He starts screaming at Ben through the net about some kind of shady play, and my hair stands on end.
Ben raises his hands in the air in an apology, looking shocked at Mason’s outburst. “Woah. Hey, man. Calm down.”
“Calm down?” Mason spits. “You calm the fuck down. Don’t tell me to calm down.”
Kaden frowns, stepping up and hesitantly touching Mason’s shoulder. “Ace. It’s just a game, man. He didn’t mean anything by it.”
Everything tightens inside me as Mason shoves off Kaden’s hand. He spikes the volleyball into the ground in a fit of anger before stalking off down the beach.
“What the fuck is his problem?” Paul asks Ben, who shrugs in a what did I do? sort of way.
“He gets like that sometimes,” says Cory, rolling his eyes. “He just needs to cool off.”
Wes frowns at his friends before glancing down the beach at Mason’s retreating form. A part of me hopes he’ll let Mason storm off and continue the game without him, but that’s not the kind of person Wes is. “I’ll talk to him,” he says. “Give me a sec.”
My heart sinks as he hurries after Mason, catching up quickly and speaking in calming tones. Mason looks pissed as he argues back, his eyes flashing toward Ben, his body taut and on-edge. Wes shakes his head, lowering his voice, and finally, Mason nods. Wes pats him on the shoulder.
“Let’s take a quick break!” Wes calls to the rest of the guys, who shrug and head for the beers in the cooler. Not Mason, though. He stalks by the guys and heads for the house, still looking weirdly pissed off.
Wes drops down beside me with a tired smile. “Hey, you.”
“What was that about?” I ask, still staring after Mason.
Wes rolls his eyes. “Dumb shit. He gets competitive, but it’ll pass.”
I nod, unconvinced, but do my best to focus on him. “You looked good out there.”
His eyes twinkle, and he nudges my shoulder playfully. “Oh yeah?”
“Oh yeah. I think the other girls were hoping you’d get warm enough to take your shirt off.”
He smirks. “You’re the only one who gets a free show. If you want it.”
My face warms, and I bite back a smile. “How generous of you.”
“Haven’t you heard, Ives?” Wes winks at me. “I’m a very generous guy.”
My blush deepens at the suggestive note in his tone, but any normality I feel bantering with Wes dissipates the second the back door swings open.
He emerges back onto the beach, and my smile falters.
My body goes rigid as my muscles tense, and I can’t help the sudden frown tugging at my lips.
Noticing the drastic shift in my mood, Wes ducks his head closer, eyes searching mine. “Everything okay?”
I tear my eyes away from his friend and force a smile I don’t mean. “Yeah. Why?”
He studies my face for a moment before shrugging a shoulder. “I know this week has been a lot of socializing for you. I really appreciate you being here, Ivy.”
I swallow against the guilt clawing up my throat.
How Wes still manages to be so kind and so grateful after I’ve been nothing but avoidant, anxious, and on edge the entire trip, I have no idea.
I should tell him to save his gratitude for someone who’s deserving of it, but instead I say, “You’re welcome. ”
He smiles at me, oblivious to my dark inner thoughts, and nods at the paperback in my lap. “Watcha reading?”
“A book,” I tell him, trying to hide the cover, though it’s not like he can tell what the story’s about from the image alone. There’s no half-naked man, thank god.
He smirks, a knowing glint in his eye. “Are you reading porn with all these people around?”
“No,” I say, cradling the paperback to my chest. “I mean, I haven’t gotten to that part yet.”
He just throws his head back and laughs.
Wes kisses me on the cheek before getting to his feet. As I watch him retrieve the volleyball and round up the guys, I feel the weight of someone’s gaze. I scan the beach until I see that Mason’s watching me again, and I look away, my lungs constricting, making it difficult to breathe.
I don’t manage a full breath for the rest of the game.
Not when we pack our belongings and clean up the house.
Not while we load our suitcases into the trunk of Wes’s car.
It’s not until I’m buckled into the passenger seat on the way back to campus, putting the beach house and the bitter memories behind me, that air flows freely through my lungs.
Still, it’s not the relief I thought it would be.
I couldn’t tell him the truth, and I know it’s the beginning of the end.