27. Permission to Board
Permission to Board
Wyatt
By the time we reach Carolina Beach a few days later, where we plan to stop for two nights, my patience is a frayed cord.
A frayed cord with a razor’s edge hovering millimeters away from the last intact thread.
Josie is the one holding the handle.
I think, at this point, she’s holding everything. The razor to my frayed patience. All the cards. And my heart.
She’s also holding back, and I don’t know why.
Is it because of what the guy did when she was in high school? Understandable.
Even if it’s not, I still want to track that guy down and do things that would probably be career ending and possibly result in jail time.
If I had to guess, there might be some long-standing trauma— no matter what she said about the word—from that event impacting her ability to connect.
You can’t just go around telling people they need therapy, but I would feel better if Josie did talk to someone.
To help her with this and with her anxiety, which she downplayed as anxious thoughts .
One more way she’s making herself small.
There could be other reasons, like our rocky shared history, the complication of her brother being my agent and friend, or maybe just my job.
Not only does it create distance, but being in a relationship with a professional athlete isn’t everyone’s cup of tea.
Of course, the women who actively seek out professional athletes—the money, the fame, the everything—aren’t my cup of tea. Never have been.
Most of the happily married guys I’ve known didn’t choose someone who was showing up at a hotel or dropping into DMs. They chose women who were normal, who didn’t just like them because they played hockey or even liked them in spite of it.
And it’s not like I’ll play forever. So, it doesn’t need to be a barrier.
If that’s the barrier.
I’m not even sure.
A conversation could clear it up, but the last time I tried talking to Josie—admittedly, too early on the trip—she shut me down and I promised her she could choose the speed.
I guess I didn’t expect her to keep zipping forward and then jamming her foot on the brakes.
I’ve made myself the passenger, but what I want to do is yank her out of the driver’s seat and take the wheel.
The one thing holding me back is my promise not to. “I’m a patient man,” I mutter, repeating my own words in a mocking tone. “I won’t push you.”
“Wyatt?”
My head snaps up as Josie comes up from below. “Hmm?”
“Who are you talking to?”
She’s smiling and carrying Jib under one arm. The little dog is dressed today in one of the bikinis Josie bought for her. It’s red with ru?es. She looks ridiculous. And adorable. I’m not sure when my position on clothing for dogs changed, but I actually look forward to seeing each day’s outfit.
I probably should ask my doctor for a CT scan when I get back. Just to make sure I don’t have some weird tumor growing in whatever part of the brain controls liking dogs dressed up in people clothes.
“I was just talking to myself,” I tell her.
“Must have been some conversation.”
Josie shifts to put Jib down and her white cover-up slips off one shoulder, revealing the strap of her bathing suit. Red. I frown.
“Are you and the dog...wearing matching swimsuits?”
“Yep. And I don’t want to hear a single comment about it, mister.”
I can’t make a comment. Because if they’re wearing matching swimsuits, it means Josie has on a red bikini.
My thoughts are prevented from wandering too far in a direction they shouldn’t go when a shout startles us both from the dock. When I look over, I have to blink a few times to make sure what I’m seeing is not a mirage.
Because it looks a whole lot like Jacob striding toward the QUINTessntial , flanked by two of my former teammates.
“Well, well, well,” Jacob calls with a grin. “It looks like my two favorite people haven’t killed each other after all. Permission to board?”
“So,” Josie says, glancing between Van, Eli, and me, “the three of you are...good friends?”
Van, elbows on his table and chin in his hand, flutters his dark lashes at Josie. “Why? Do we not seem like we’d be besties?”
She giggles, and I consider punching him. Even though I know him well enough to know he’s just being Van and not actually flirting with her, it’s still too much. I settle for kicking him under the table. He shoots me a glare and rubs at his shin.
I’m still in disbelief that Jacob planned this—showing up out of nowhere and bringing two of my closest friends from my old team in North Carolina. Though it’s great to see Van and Eli and Jacob, too, I’m feeling a little off just from the surprise of it.
We’re at a restaurant right on the beach, the kind with a roll of paper towels on every table and the smell of fried fish lingering in the air. The patio doors are open, letting in the sound of the surf, and there’s sand gritting beneath my shoes.
“You just all seem pretty different,” Josie says, and it’s not hard to know what she means.
Van and Eli talk enough for ten people and have kept Josie laughing with stories and teasing. And because I’m not entirely sure how to act around her in front of other people, I’ve kept my mouth closed and my hands to myself.
Josie and I are not...together. But we’re more than just friends.
Even friendship is really a change from how we’ve always been.
It’s not easy to keep my distance from her.
Or to share her attention. Not when I’ve had her to myself for weeks now.
I’d love nothing more than to toss her over my shoulder and carry her back to the boat. Alone.
Glancing at Jacob’s arm, casually slung over the back of Josie’s chair, I’m reminded I’ll have to talk to him about my feelings for his sister.
I don’t think he’ll be mad, exactly, but I’m not sure.
The only time we ever talked about me and Josie in any kind of romantic context was the day she and I met.
When Jacob told me she didn’t like jocks.
Now, knowing what I know from her, this makes so much more sense. It makes me want to go back and wrap her in a hug. Or maybe protective Bubble Wrap.
Her gaze meets mine for a brief second, and the happiness I see there loosens the tight squeeze of anxiety.
“I’ve still got those friendship bracelets you made us,” Eli says, elbowing me. He’s got Jib in his lap, and she’s staring up at him like he’s her new favorite person in the world. “I should have brought them as proof. Since, apparently, it’s hard to believe we’re your friends.”
“I don’t make friendship bracelets,” I grumble, which makes Josie giggle again.
“He does,” Van says, flipping his dark hair out of his eyes. “Though he doesn’t call often enough.”
I grumble and fidget with a piece of paper towel I’ve been crumpling in my lap. It’s almost as soft as tissue paper now. “I text.”
Eli laughs. “I’m not sure the occasional text equivalent of a grunt in the group chat counts.”
“Wyatt’s in a group chat ?” Josie sounds like someone just told her bigfoot exists and he’s actually the quarterback for the Seattle Seahawks.
“Here.” Van unlocks his phone and slides it across to Josie. “See for yourself.”
Eli’s brows shoot up. “You’re letting her read the group text?”
Van takes a sip of his beer and leans back in his chair. “There’s nothing too incriminating. And for a bunch of hockey players, we’re surprisingly—sometimes annoyingly—appropriate.”
Though I really don’t contribute much to the group chat that started when I was playing for the Appies, I feel a pinch of nerves at the idea of Josie reading our messages.
I try to remember anything I’ve said recently, but Eli isn’t wrong about my contributions.
They’re minimal. Guilt swirls in my gut, and I take a long drink of water, watching Josie’s face.
Other than Jacob, who basically attached himself to me like a barnacle from the time we met, I’ve never made or kept friends easily. Not even in hockey, where team camaraderie comes pretty easily with all the time spent on and off the ice together.
Except for this team and these two guys—plus a handful more who are in the same group chat.
We’ve kept it up even after many of us scattered to different teams or different lives.
I’m not sure if only Van and Eli were available to come, or if Jacob invited only two because he knew the more people he brought, the more overwhelmed I’d be.
He winks from across the table. Probably the second option.
For all Jacob’s self-involvement, he’s incredibly insightful and thoughtful—when he’s in the mood.
“Wyatt!” Josie says, looking up at me with wide eyes. “This is scandalous.”
I frown. “What?”
Chairs scrape the floor as Jacob, Eli, and Van lean across the table to read whatever’s on the screen.
I reach over and pluck the phone from Josie’s fingers, then glare down at the screen.
And have no idea why she reacted to the pretty typical back-and-forth.
There’s nothing remotely scandalous. Still, I click off the phone and slide it into my pocket.
When I look up at her, Josie’s smirking. “Did you see it? You actually said yes to something.”
The whole table erupts into laughter as the waitress brings our orders.
And though I’m uncomfortable being the center of attention or the cause for laughter, warmth stretches and expands in my chest. Because I know everyone seated around me is someone safe.
They care about me—and not because of anything in particular I’ve done to earn it—maybe even in spite of me not keeping in touch well.
And saying no too often. Josie isn’t wrong about that.
As we start to eat and the conversation moves to our plans for tomorrow, a foot finds mine under the table.
Immediately, I know it’s not one of the guys.
They’d probably be kicking me. No, it’s Josie, pressing the top of my foot gently, as though reminding me she’s here.
I glance across the table at her, and when our eyes meet, it’s like there’s no one in the room but the two of us.
“So, tell us how this came to be,” Eli says, pointing between Josie and me.
I choke, glancing quickly at Jacob. “What?”
Van pops a french fry into his mouth. “Jacob said she’s your live-in nurse.”
Josie chokes. It takes some pounding on her back from Jacob and a few gulps of water before she can speak.
I’m just relieved Eli wasn’t asking about something else.
I didn’t think it was obvious that something has been brewing between us.
Keeping my distance from her tonight has helped.
And nothing sucks any romantic tension out of a room like the arrival of an overprotective sibling and two guys who never shut up.
“Not his nurse. More like his handler,” Josie says, her foot pressing down on mine beneath the table.
“An overpaid babysitter,” Jacob says. “Emphasis on overpaid.”
“Hey—you have no idea what I’ve endured.” Josie’s eyes meet mine as she says, “I mean, the first day I got there, he asked if I’d give him a sponge bath.”
Jacob drops his fork. Eli’s mouth hangs open, and Van looks like he’s about to fall out of his chair. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
Only at the sudden silence does Josie realize how that sounded. Her eyes go wide. “Not like that! He didn’t really mean it—he was just trying to scare me off.”
“He better not have meant it,” Jacob says, glaring at me across the table. He’s picked up his fork again and looks ready to stab me with it.
Not inspiring confidence in how a conversation with him will go about my actual feelings for Josie.
“And I found out later he had a fever, so nothing he said could be trusted anyway.”
Is that what she thinks? Because I know for a fact that I told Josie she was pretty. And I faked being more out of it than I was because I liked her touching me. The fever exposed exactly how I really feel about Josie. How I’ve felt for years.
“I barely got him into bed,” Josie says.
Now Van does fall out of his chair. Eli throws his head back and laughs, and the only thing keeping Jacob from diving across the table at me is Josie’s hand on his shoulder.
“He was sick!” she says. “I had to get him into bed because he was sick . Calm down!” She glances at me across the table, shaking her head. “I’ve caught your foot-in-mouth disease. I think I’ll spend the rest of the night in silence.”
“Please don’t,” Van says, picking himself up off the floor. “We need more stories just like that.”
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Josie says, pushing her chair back to stand. “Please be good while I’m gone.” She directs this to Jacob, who only rolls his eyes.
The moment she’s gone, they pounce.
“When’s the wedding?” Van asks with a grin.
Eli leans closer and ru?es my hair. “I always wondered what kind of woman would snag your grinchy little heart. I approve. And I’m not just saying this because her brother’s right here.”
I don’t even bother protesting. Instead, I glance over at the brother in question, expecting him to be glaring. Not stuffing his face with fried catfish like this conversation doesn’t involve his sister. And me.
“What?” he asks around a mouthful.
“I just...”
Jacob takes a sip of water. “You’re just in love with my sister?
Yeah. I know. I’ve known for years. Oh, and you’re welcome, by the way.
” He wipes his mouth with a paper towel while I gape at him.
“I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to play matchmaker, and your injury made the perfect setup.
Though next time, go a little easier. You had me slightly concerned that disc golf would end your career. ”
“You...know? You’ve known ?”
He rolls his eyes. “Dude. You’ve looked at her like a lovesick puppy for years. Hard to miss when I know you as well as I do. The question is—what are you going to do about it?”
That’s the question indeed.
“I do know one thing,” I tell him. “It’s time to implement The Plan.”
Jacob beams. “Really? The Plan? I didn’t think you were ever going to agree.”
“What’s ‘The Plan’?” Van asks, using finger quotes.
Before either Jacob or I can answer, Josie returns from the bathroom, effectively ending the conversation.
“Wow. This looks like an intense conversation,” Josie says, dropping back in her seat. “What’d I miss?”