West takes my hand and squeezes. “That’s all you had to say. Or hell, accidents happen. You didn’t have to explain at all. But you still haven’t answered my question. Why did yourunaway?”
“I don’t know.” He frowns, and I rush to fix yet another foible. “Maybe because it was easier to run away than have to watch another guy decide I’m too much trouble—too broken or too slow or too...me. I didn’t understand that we couldn’t go back to being just friends. Or that…I didn’twantto.”
West rises and moves to stare out the patio doors. His shoulders hike up around his ears, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I overreacted on the phonetoday.”
“Maybe webothdid.”
With a sigh, he turns back to me. Small lines of strain bracket his lips, and his eyes darken. “My last girlfriend broke up with me after two years together. She said I’d disappointed her one too many times. But…I didn’t understand what I’d done—or hadn’t done. I’m a guy. We fuck up. Something on the Y-chromosome makes us oblivious to what’s right in front of us. So when I heard that same tone in your voice, I gotdefensive.”
I hold out my hand, and West links his fingers with mine. “Why don’t we start over? You wanted to have dinner. We’re having dinner. The rest…let’s just see wherethingsgo.”
“I’d like that.” He tugs me against him, and for several seconds, I’m not the broken girl, the awkward girl, I’m the girl I usedtobe.
Before long, we’re joking our way through our mango sticky rice. He tells me about his older brother, Clay, and the teasing Clay suffered at the hands of theotherkids.
“Our parents wanted us to be ‘distinguished.’ So his full name is Barclay Ulysses Sampson. Try surviving fifth grade as ‘Barclay.’ After the third bloody nose—on the other kid, not Clay—Mom and Dad sent us to another school where he got to be Clay, and I wentbyWest.”
“Wait. What’s your real name, then?” I polish off my beer, and he pops the top on another, but doesn’t hand thebottleover.
“If you laugh, I’m keeping this beer.” Once I promise I won’t, he pins me with a hard stare. “Westley FilbertSampson.”
My chuckle escapes before I can clap my hand over my mouth, and he takes a swig of the beer—my beer—as I fight forcontrol.
“Filbert?” I snort. “Your parents must havehatedyou.”
“That’s Clay’s theory. I’m pretty sure they were just rebelling against their own parents. At least my mom’s. My grandmother named her Radiance Pearl. She legally changed her name to Rachel aftercollege.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” I say, “the Princess Bride was one of my favorite movies growing up.” I wiggle my fingers, demanding my beer, and he makes a show over debating whether or not I deserve thebottle.
“As you wish,” he says as he presses the beer into my palm, then rises and picks up our plates. “Your turn. What embarrassing stories do you have from yourchildhood?”
“When I was eight, my best friend and I discovered Wonder Woman. We used to ‘fly’ around the neighborhood in our invisible jet with our magic bracelets made out of cardboard. I think we ‘saved’ all the boys at least once before they got tired of us and started running in the other direction. My parents grounded the invisible jet after we yelled at Mrs. Henderson for not seeing the plane and crushing it withhercar.”
With a fresh beer in his hand, West leans against the door jamb. “Are you close? To yourparents?”
I press my lips together, then sigh. “No. Not anymore.” He waits for me to explain, and I scramble to shut his questions down. “Things got…complicated around the time I joined the army. Still are. Not something I like to talkabout.”
For a few seconds, only the traffic noises filtering up from the street break the silence. Then West clears his throat. “We made it through dinner.What’snext?”
Thankful for the reprieve, I gesture to the couch. “How aboutsomeHalo?”
We play through a couple of campaigns, and it’s like yesterday never happened—except for his warmth at my side and the high fives that sting my palm most deliciously when we defeat a foe. After a particularly hard-fought battle, I cup his cheek, then brush a gentle, tentative kiss to his lips. “Thank you for not giving uponme.”
“I’m a SEAL, angel. We don’t give up onanyone.”
We’re well into our third campaign when West’s phone buzzes on the coffee table. He curses as he glances at the screen. “I have to take this. It’s my weekendmanager.”
“Bedroom’s back that way.” I gesture down the hall. “If you want someprivacy.”
He shakes his head. After a gruff greeting, West’s whole body stills. “How many?” A pause and then he’s on his feet, stalking to the open balcony door. “We’re not teaching to a fad, Vasquez. And even if we did, the customers we’d gain by converting the locker rooms to a spin theater wouldn’t offset the constructioncosts.”
West runs a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. “I know. See if you can talk Yasmin into giving me another month. Everyone loves her. The rest…I’ll figure something out. The Horizon program should generate enough interest to keep usgoing.”
As night bruises the sky and the first stars twinkle over Elliot Bay, West turns back to me. Frustration gathers between his brows and in the set of his shoulders. “I should go. I’ve got to be at the dojo for the 7:00 a.m.class.”
The reluctance edging his tone spurs me into action, and I limp over to him, slide my hands down his arms, and then link our fingers. “What’swrong?”
“People think gyms rake in the dough. Truth is, I’m barely hanging on. People want the latest fitness craze. CrossFit, Spin, Barre, some shit where you pretend you’re drumming with these weighted sticks—they call it ‘Pound.’ There’s a new one every year. Krav Maga is different. Fitness is a side benefit. We teach self-defense, how to appreciate your body—no matter its size or shape—honor your abilities and then push through them. Yet I still get a dozen calls a week asking if we offer Pilates or worse—Zumba.” He rolls his eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. “We lost three more members this weekend to the new CrossFit place across the street, and one of my best instructors is threatening to quit because she sees her class size dwindling and worries she’ll be out of a job soonanyway.”
