Wes
The ride back is quiet, and I don’t know what to make of it. Everything felt pretty normal between us once we settled in around the fire. Sitting with Joss’s feet draped over the arm of her chair so they rested in my lap. Laughing with my friends. Eating delicious food and talking about all the surfing we’ve been doing. She never once flinched away from my casual touches.
Yet there’s been a distance between us since she left me sitting by the fire. Maybe Talia pushed her Hallmark-movie meant-to-be bullshit like she did with me while I got our food. She doesn’t seem to understand that that just isn’t our reality, no matter the feelings I’m having to squash down more and more often. The ones screaming that maybe it could be.
By the time we make it up the elevator and the doors slide open on our floor, I can’t take the silence between us anymore. I thought I played off the incident after the shower well, I thought we were okay, but maybe we aren’t. Maybe she’s more upset about it than she’s letting on.
“Joss?” There’s a tentativeness to my voice that I’m unfamiliar with. I’m not used to feeling unsure of myself.
“Hmm?” She glances briefly over her shoulder before continuing down the hall. The tired look in her eyes almost conceals that there’s something more brewing beneath the surface. Almost.
“Can we talk? Please.” I stop her with my hand on her elbow and turn her toward me. Her shoulders are hunched and she won’t look at me. Her posture looks almost defeated, and my heart wrenches in my chest.
“Wes, I’m really tired. Can we do this tomorrow?”
A pit in my stomach yawns open at the thought of leaving things this way, of going to bed tonight not knowing where we stand. My brain knows that if it doesn’t happen tonight, it might not happen at all.
“Joss. Please.” She looks up at me, our eyes finally meeting. That look I couldn’t place before… I think it’s sadness. Whatever she sees in my face makes her soften a little and she nods, stopping at my door when we reach it.
I let us into my apartment, eyes catching on the wine right where she left it on the counter. Just before she walked in on me naked. Fuck. I run my hand through my hair at the thought.
She walks straight to my couch and collapses onto it. Pulling a pillow into her lap and facing the center, she leans back against thearm rest. I feel a little relieved that, whatever’s going on, she’s still comfortable here in my space. I join her, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. Everything in my body tells me to grab on to her and never let go, but I give her space.
“Is this about earlier?”
Joss speaks at the same time, saying, “Why didn’t you tell me about Brenna?” in a similarly rushed breath.
My laugh at us talking over each other chokes off in my throat as her words register.Why didn’t you tell me about Brenna?
Why in the world would she want to know about Brenna? How does she even know about Brenna?Thisis why she’s been quiet? It’s not about earlier. It’s abouther.
I glance around, looking for a fire, or maybe a volcano—some explanation for the burning pit I just fell into. I want to crawl out of my skin. It suddenly feels too tight, uncomfortable, squeezing the breath out of my lungs. My heart unable to beat like it should.
Dammit, Talia.
“It’s not her fault,” Joss says. “She assumed I knew.”
I guess I said that last thought out loud.
“No, Joss, I don’t think she did.” Even to my ears, my voice sounds foreign and curt. I’ve never been angry around Joss, but I can’t keep my emotions in check right now. I scrub at my face, as if that will somehow dissipate the overwhelming anxiety taking over my body at hearing her name.
I physically can’t sit still as my mind reels. Shoving off the couch, I only just notice Joss’s flinch. I can’t breathe the way I could a minute ago. It’s like Brenna’s name being spoken in this space, where it’s never been before, has suddenly changed the air.
Shit. I’m on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. It’s been a while since I’ve had one, and the realization only fuels the inferno. I stride to the patio door and swing it open, gulping down the cold air as it whips around my face. Thinking of her brings that time in my life back in a way that nothing else can. Not even talking about the crash with Joss hit me like this.
I think I hear Joss’s voice, but it sounds quiet, like she’s talking to me from underwater.
Just breathe, Wes.
There’s a trickle of awareness that punctures the fog.
Hands.
On my back.
My breaths are still too fast, but I register the feeling of a soft caress up and down my spine. I think she’s counting, but her voice still sounds too far away. I try to match my breaths to the rhythm of her hands. Inhale as they run up my spine, exhale as they run down. Four counts in each direction. The first few breaths feel stuttered and shallow, but I eventually slow them down, focusing on nothing but the feel of her. Joss.
“You’re okay, Wes. You’re safe here.”
