22. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Joss
A fter our non-date last week, Wes and I have moved forward, business as usual. We haven’t talked about Brenna since the night on the balcony, the shower debacle is well behind us, and we did not kiss under the moonlight, so I’d say we’re doing just fine. Totally fine.
But each flight of this trip, each subsequent night in a hotel, each new airport I’ve walked through has been filled with thoughts of it all.
The irony isn’t lost on me that we both have abandonment issues when it comes to relationships. Or that we manifest our desires for a future in completely different ways. His way of coping is to reject any form of long-term relationship, preferring not to open himself up to get hurt. My way of coping is to reject any form of casual relationship, only wanting something if I know I can trust the other person to never leave me.
How well has that worked out for you, Joss? I practically roll my eyes at the thought. Not well, obviously. Eric being case and point.
I don’t want to see Wes, this amazing man, go without love because some vapid woman couldn’t love him for the right reasons. Especially after experiencing what dating Wes would be like. And that wasn’t even the real thing—yet, his words continue to pop up in my head any chance they get.
My only real thought was “mine.”
The possessiveness of those words should probably bother me, but instead there’s a flutter in my stomach every time I remember his confession. This man. A man who doesn’t want a girlfriend, doesn’t want a relationship. His first thought at seeing me, even when he thought he never would again, was mine . Bloody hell. I really didn’t expect to like that so damn much.
I have spent way too much time thinking about this. Thinking about me and him. Us. Could there be an us if we weren’t both so screwed up from our pasts? I keep pushing those thoughts away, unwilling to entertain the possibility of being rejected by Wes. Worse though are the thoughts of him leaving and never coming back when his time here comes to an end. It’s already been three months and they’ve gone so quickly—nine more doesn’t seem like enough.
As I stare out a hotel window in New Zealand, taking in the flow of late-night flights at the airport in the distance, I’m jolted by the thought that I’d rather be home. Wes and I have been texting back and forth nonstop about plans for this weekend, and each ping of my phone has me grinning like a schoolgirl at the small lit-up screen.
Me
I was thinking we should hit up a surf camp or something? Get out of the city. Do something different.
Wes
That sounds amazing. Breck and Talia are having people over again, but we could blow that off.
As much fun as I had that night by the bonfire, I can’t shake the feeling that Talia had ulterior motives for bringing up Wes’s ex. And with the weird vibes I picked up with Drew and her, I don’t know if I want to be around her all that much at the moment.
Wes
Let’s go somewhere.
Did he know I was hesitating? Probably, and I love that entirely too much.
Me
Ok, I’ll look for some options and send them your way.
Wes
Cool cool cool.
My apartment is lonely without you next door. And I have to order dinner for one which just seems sad.
Me
Tell me about it. Eating pizza alone in this hotel room is not nearly as fun as eating it at your place with a movie.
Wes
When are you back again?
Me
Thursday evening. You think you could take Friday off?
Wes
I’ll check the schedule and make sure I don’t have a flight, but I think I can swing it.
The next two days are a blur of airplanes and hotel rooms, and by the time we set up for landing, I’m ready to be home. A kaleidoscope of pinks and purples melt into the Pacific, greeting us on our descent, and the puffy white clouds we drift through shift from yellow to deeper orange. There is no better view in the world.
I’ve called this city home for nearly twelve years, and there’s not another place I’d rather be.
The second the plane touches down, I reach for my phone. This morning I sent Wes my plan for the surf trip and I’ve been giddy to hear what he thinks. I can already see it in my mind’s eye. Packing up the car before the sun rises, then driving north and spending a few carefree days relaxing, surfing, and enjoying the company of my new favorite person.
Instead of Wes’s name being the first thing I see, it’s a message from an unknown number, and my heart sinks to the pit of my stomach. My pulse spikes as I stare at the words on the screen. My stomach roils like it’s full of snakes and my nausea has nothing to do with the gusty landing we just made.
I’d love nothing more than to turn my phone back off and not deal with this. Stick my head in the sand and pretend I never got this message, but from experience, I know that won’t lead to me getting what I want.
How does she even have my number? I’ve changed it since the last time we saw each other, needing as much distance as I could put between us. I hear her voice in my head: I’m your mother, Joss, you can’t hide from me . Words that were once a joke when I was a kid playing hide and seek. She was always good at finding me, even in my best hiding places.
Unknown number
Darling! I’ll be in Sydney this weekend, need to see you! Please make time for your mother, it’s been too long.
No shit, Mom. It’s been seven years.
And still that somehow doesn’t feel like long enough. My gulping breaths attempt to fill my lungs. Seven years since we’ve seen each other, seven years since we’ve spoken, and yet now she wants to see me? What am I supposed to do with this? For all she knows I could be working this weekend. Not that she’d care; she’d expect me to make time for her regardless.
Unknown number
Oh, and can we stay with you, darling? It’s so hard to find a place in the city last-minute. Love you.
Oh hell no! That is definitely not happening, not after last time. And who is “we”? God, if she thinks she can bring him back into my house, she has another thing coming. My breath kicks up and no matter how hard I try to settle the pounding in my chest, I’m left gasping and sweating. Is this a panic attack? Is this how Wes felt?
Shit, Wes. We’re supposed to leave town tomorrow. My thoughts are a wild jumble. Impossible to follow as they jump from my mother to Wes. I make myself lean forward, head toward my knees.
“Joss? You okay?”
It’s Katy, the second flight attendant, and all I can do in my current state is lift my right arm and give her a thumbs-up.
Yup, totally fine. Obviously.
I need to get it together. I have a job to do—I can figure this out when I get home. I take a couple more deep breaths, going to my happy place and grounding myself in it.
I’m at least a tiny bit calmer when I sit up and see Katy eyeing me speculatively.
“I’m okay, really. Just got a bit dizzy. All good now.”
Deplaning and cleaning takes a lifetime. By the time it’s finally done, I just want my sweats and some wine and to pretend that I never got those messages.
One foot in front of the other, I walk off the plane. My emotional state resembles a dumpster fire. I’ve stewed and stressed over how to get out of this. I’ve run through every scenario I can think of. I know she won’t give up; she’ll just keep spinning it until I finally give in and agree to make time for her. There’s no way she can stay with me, especially if he is with her. Just thinking of it makes bile rise in my throat.
I’m so far into my own thoughts that I barely acknowledge Frank as I pass through the doors to my building. I’m even less alert as I walk out of the elevator toward my apartment, completely missing Wes opening his door when I pass.
It’s not until he’s by my side, pulling on my arm and saying my name, that I register he’s there.
“Joss? You okay? Are you sick again?” His brow is furrowed as I watch his lips move.
I’m so out of my head that I reach up and use my thumb to soothe away the lines carved between his brows. This gets me an eyebrow raise, which does fix the lines at least, but the smirk and confusion on his face finally break through my stupor.
“Oh, yeah. Yeah. I’m okay.” Am I? I turn back to my door and try to get it unlocked, but my hand shakes. My frustration is rising, threatening to crest like a rogue wave, when warmth covers my hand, steadying it. Steadying me. It’s this touch, the electricity of it, that brings me fully back to my senses. I look up into his eyes as the door swings open and let out a little sigh, shoulders slumping. “I guess it’s time I tell you about my mother.”
A look of surprise takes over his handsome face. I’ve never said a word about my parents to Wes. He asked once and I deflected. He hasn’t brought it up again. Lately, there’s been a nagging tug in the back of my mind telling me that trust goes both ways. Wes has trusted me with his darkest moments, maybe it’s time I trust him with mine. I don’t know that I have much choice now anyway.
“Oh-kay.” He swoops his hand out to the side. “Uh, let me grab something from my place and I’ll be right back, yeah?”
“Yeah, I need a minute anyway. Gotta change out of this stupid uniform.”
“Nothing stupid about that uniform, Grey.” He gives me an exaggerated wink and smiles, all dimples, as he walks backward toward his door. He’s trying to lighten the mood, and amazingly, it does just that.
“Get out of here, you.” I swat the space between us. He keeps smiling until he’s at his own door and slips inside.
Two minutes. I was in his presence for two minutes and he somehow took me from a spiraling mental mess to a smiling fool. He makes me feel more at ease than I have with any man I’ve ever met.
I close my door, head for the bedroom, and slip into my well-loved purple sweats before dropping my entire uniform into the laundry basket. Good riddance for another five days. I slide on a white tank and throw Wes’s old college hoodie over my shoulder. He left it here one night about a month into our friendship, and I’ve since claimed it as my own. I’m not sure he realizes I have it, and I’m not about to tell him how often I end up sleeping in it. Tonight, I plan on pulling from it the strength I don’t feel.
I hear a light knock before Wes lets himself in, followed by an obnoxious “I’m walking into your apartment, please make yourself presentable. ”
The small smile I had on my face two minutes ago pales in comparison to the full-on laugh that escapes me now.
“Staahhhppp,” I plead as I join him in the living room, and he laughs in earnest. “You just had to bring that up. It was one time .”
I bump him with my hip and trudge over to the fridge.
“The best time of your life, am I right?”
“Oh geez, there he is. There’s that cocky man I met on the plane, I wondered where he went.” I roll my eyes and reach for the bottle of rosé I stocked earlier in the week.
“Is this a big glass or small glass kind of talk we’re about to have?” Wes’s voice is casual, but I can hear the undercurrent of concern there.
When I look over the fridge door, he’s standing with one of each in his hands, weighing them up and down.
“Definitely the big one,” I say with a smirk.
“I knew you liked big ones.” The way he deadpans this statement nearly makes me drop the bottle of wine.
I recover quickly and volley my comeback. “True, not sure why I hang around you then. All you’ve got going on is that big ego.”
I shoot him a devilish smile, proud of myself for that sick burn.
“Ouch, Joss. Taking size jokes to a whole new level.” He shakes his head at me like he’s disappointed. “You get the small one for that—and I’m taking my hoodie back too.”
He moves to put the large wineglass back in the cupboard.
“No! I’m sorry.” I put my hand on his arm to stop him and give him my biggest doe eyes, rapidly blinking my lashes.
“Okay, you can keep it, but only because you’re my favorite,” he says before giving me a little peck on the cheek. Placing the small glass back in the cupboard, he grabs a second large one and turns to walk into the living room, leaving me stunned.
I recover quickly, grabbing the bottle of rosé with a grin, my cheek pleasantly raw from his stubble. Steeling myself, I walk into the living room to have a conversation with my favorite person… about my least favorite person.