28. Purely Scientific
Purely Scientific
Josie
I had no idea going to the beach could be so...challenging.
Not discovering sand in unmentionable places or dealing with hair tangled from salt water and humidity or even getting sunburned.
It’s the thighs .
“That’s mine!” Van shouts, leaping across Eli to snag the Frisbee out of the air. When he lands in a crouch, grinning, his quads flex in a way that’s hard not to stare at. Especially when his shorts end about six inches above his knees, just like the other guys on the beach.
Including my brother, whose pasty-white legs I could have done without seeing.
“I’m not interested in Van,” I tell Jib, who’s watching the guys play with similar interest. “Or his thighs. I’m not even into thighs. Or I wasn’t? It’s just...”
I don’t bother finishing the thought. Not because I’m talking to a dog but because there’s no need to explain. Anyone seeing Van, Eli, and Wyatt running around in their apparently stylish short shorts would understand.
All of them are clearly athletes, though all have different builds.
Van is shorter than Eli or Wyatt with a stockier build and a massive dragon tattooed on his chest. Wyatt and Eli both are a little lankier, though with no shortage of impressive muscle groups from their shoulders to their abs.
But it’s the athletes’ quads that set them apart from normal humans.
Massive. Bulky. Flexing with even the smallest movements.
I’m not even sure what game they’re playing with the Frisbee. Nor do I care.
“I’m not ogling,” I say, and I swear Jib snorts. “I’m observing. Like a scientist.”
Okay, there’s nothing scientific about the way I stare when Wyatt wrestles with Eli over the next throw. I had no idea legs even had so many muscle groups.
“Enjoying the game?”
Jacob startles me, likely on purpose, as he appears next to me, hands on hips and a little out of breath.
“Or,” he adds with a smirk, “just enjoying the view?”
I smack him on the calf, and he grunts. “Shut up.”
“Do you see the appeal of athletes now?” he asks, clearly not even close to being done giving me a hard time. “I would have arranged something like this years ago had I known you were so...into it.”
“Will you stop? Please?”
“Probably not.” But he does dash off, snatching a Frisbee from Wyatt’s hands.
As the two of them start wrestling, Wyatt dragging my brother toward the surf, Van and Eli plop down on either side of me.
I shift a little, making sure to keep my eyeballs away from their legs.
Jib wiggles away from me and climbs in Eli’s lap, licking the bottom of his chin.
He laughs. Everything about him, from his blond hair to his wide smile to his kind eyes, is so sunny .
I’m not sure I’ve ever met a person so effervescent.
My brother should have sent Eli rather than me to pull Wyatt out of his slump.
“You must love dogs,” I say.
“I do. My wife is in vet school, and we keep picking up strays. I’ll show you a picture when we get back to the boat.”
“Of your wife or the dogs?” Van teases.
Eli reaches around me to smack Van in the back of the head. “Both.”
Though the three of them stayed in a hotel last night, the boat has been our home base.
It was a pleasant—if somewhat hot—walk down to the beach where we spent the morning.
Despite Jacob’s job, I haven’t spent time with professional athletes before, aside from Wyatt.
Who doesn’t count since I met him when he was in college, just on the cusp of his career.
They’re surprisingly and refreshingly normal. Aside from the thighs.
I’ve loved watching Wyatt around his former teammates.
He’s never talked about them to me, but it’s clear they have a bond.
I swear, Wyatt has smiled more in the last twenty-four hours than he usually does in a week.
It’s been hours of teasing, smack talk, and easy physical playfulness.
Wyatt is still a man who exists with a little storm cloud hanging over his head, but he’s lighter with them around.
There’s an ease to him around Eli and Van.
His limbs seem looser, his posture more relaxed, his jaw at least forty percent less clenched.
I’m a tiny bit jealous, wishing he was that way around me too. Or maybe he is and I just haven’t noticed because I’m with him day in and day out.
My brother, though I don’t think he’d met Eli or Van before, folded into the group like he’s known them all forever.
It’s what my parents and I call the Jacob Effect.
My brother makes things louder, livelier.
He doesn’t need to go to parties; he is a party.
It’s been a while since I’ve seen him let loose like this, though, and I wonder how often he and Wyatt get to spend time together that’s not work related.
“How did you both meet your wives?” I ask, scooping up a little sand and letting it sift through my fingers.
It’s polite conversation, but I’m also intensely curious.
Last night at the restaurant and today at breakfast and now the beach, women have been watching them, if not directly trying to flirt.
Van and Eli, as friendly as they are, shut it down quickly and completely each time.
Clearly, they are settled and happy in their relationships.
No one has been brave enough to approach Wyatt, whose looks could shrivel the leaves of a healthy plant.
Both Van and Eli are more than happy to answer my question, but while I’m listening to their stories, at least part of my attention is on my brother and Wyatt.
They’re having what appears to be a serious conversation in the surf.
Every so often, one of them glances my way.
Despite the temperature, goose bumps stand up on my arms.
Are they talking about me? About me...and Wyatt?
I’ve given almost zero thought to how my brother would feel about me dating Wyatt. If it were to happen. And I still feel jittery about that if whenever I consider what this would look like outside of our present reality.
Which isn’t anywhere close to actual reality. For either of us.
I force my attention back to the two men on either side of me, feeling guilty I was listening distractedly. Though I did hear enough to know that neither one had a typical relationship and they’re both stupidly happy in love.
“Is that a hockey thing?” I ask. “I mean, how quickly you both got married. Is that normal?”
Van laughs. “Not particularly. A lot of guys enjoy the single life for a long time.”
“Or take things at a more normal pace. But when you know, you know,” Eli says, scratching Jib behind the ears.
Something uncomfortable shifts in my stomach.
I glance out again to where Wyatt and Jacob are now in the shallows with their backs to us, staring at a shrimp trawler off the coast. Stacks of gray and white clouds form an imposing skyline, taller and more regal than any cityscape.
A little ominous too. They’re far off but gathering and building quickly.
“And you both just...knew?”
“Sounds kind of woo-woo or whatever, but yeah,” Van says. “There were a few question marks and some things to work through at the start, but I knew.”
“Took me a minute. But only a minute,” Eli says with a grin. “It probably took Bailey longer. Being married to a guy in our profession isn’t easy.”
My stomach does a flip. Not the good kind.
“I can imagine it would be challenging,” I say.
Van stretches out on his towel, linking his arms behind his head as he grins. “But worth it. We come with perks. Money, good looks—”
“Humility,” Eli adds.
I can’t help but laugh at Van’s cockiness and the way Eli counterbalances it. I wonder briefly if this camaraderie translates to the ice and how they play.
“It’s not a normal life, that’s for sure,” Eli says. “But what is normal?”
“Overrated,” Van says. “Normal is overrated.”
I think of my steady job, the only surprise being which kids might pop into my office with real—or fake—a?ictions. My apartment. My friendship with Toni. There’s always been a comfort in the quietness of my life. It’s easy. Safe.
Now it feels like not enough and, at the same time, like a cocoon of protection I can’t wait to return to.
“Why all the questions?” Eli asks. “Are you and Wyatt...?” He trails off, the question in his voice echoing in his blue eyes.
“Something,” Van finishes. “Are you something ?” The arch of his dark brow seems to indicate he knows the answer. Or thinks he does.
“I don’t know,” is the best I can do.
“There’s definitely a vibe,” Van says.
“Is there?” I ask weakly. I thought Wyatt and I had done a pretty good job pretending to be normal. And not dancing on a cliff’s edge the way we have been.
“It’s the way he looks at you,” Eli says. “Like you’re all he sees.”
“Or wants to see,” Van agrees.
Eli bumps my shoulder lightly with his. I’m surprised to find I’m comfortable enough with him that I don’t mind the contact. “You couldn’t ask for a better guy.”
“Though you could ask for a less grumpy one,” Van adds, and he and Eli both laugh at this.
“So...yeah?” Van says hopefully. “You and our boy?”
It’s a great question. One I can’t even answer for myself, much less Wyatt’s friends.
I think of our quiet, mundane conversations about our travel plans every morning. Of the bossy yet confident way Wyatt orders me around when things get hairy on the boat. Of our lingering conversations, lingering looks, lingering good nights as we retreat to our own cabins.
I do know. But as for Wyatt...
Reflecting on all our exchanges over the years, these weeks with him have been an exception. Not the rule. There’s no way he knew.
When Wyatt goes back to his normal life, he might blink at this little blip of time and wonder what he was thinking. It’s almost like I’ve been with an alternative version of him—the fever version on a grander scale. Injury and vacation Wyatt. Not normal Wyatt.