Willow sighs, resting her head against my shoulder as we make our way down the beach, finding Carter and Penelope near the pier. Penelope hugs me so tight it hurts, but I don’t tell her that—the guilt of causing her to worry is far more painful.
Carter’s eyes flash with concern, though he makes a joke about capturing my rag-doll on camera—to which Leo requests printed copies of. Carter then asks if I want to spend the weekend with them until I’m cleared for training.
Willow’s eyes flutter to me, and the pleading on her beautiful, devastated face is all the answer needed.I’m going wherever she goes. I politely decline, and Leo leaves Willow and me with the keys to Darby’s car.
“What do you want for dinner?” Willow asks softly as she merges onto the interstate that’ll take us back to Pacific Shores.
“I have chicken and vegetables at home.”
She scoffs before making a gagging noise. “No. Absolutely not.” She glances at me, frowning. “Don’t you have a comfort meal? Something you ate as a kid when you had a bad day or when you were sick? A favorite restaurant?”
“Not really. We didn’t have a lot of money so we didn’t eat out much, especially considering how well my mom could cook. There was no point.” I shrug. “My mom made great meals with the resources she had, but we mostly ate what my dad demanded. And by the time I moved in with Carter and Penelope, I was so focused on surfing, I stuck to a meal plan. Then, well... I went to jail. When I was released, I was mainly focused on getting back on track so I could compete again.”
She releases a shuddered breath. “Well. .. is there any place you’ve ever wanted to try but never had the chance?”
“Eh. I guess I’ve always wondered what all the fuss with In-N-Out was about.”
“Excuse me?” she gasps, nearly swerving the car off the goddamn road. “You’ve never had In-N-Out? In your whole life? Where the hell were you born?”
“Never going to have the chance if you crash the car, Trouble.” I chuckle. “I was born in Long Beach.”
“Excuse my language, but what the fuck, Weston?” Willow flips on her blinker, merging into the exit lane. “That’s it. We’re going.”
“I’m still on a meal plan, love. I can’t fuck it up just because I surfed like shit today.”
“You did not,” she snaps. “You performed better than you have in your entire life. You made one, overly confident mistake that led to an injury and made you unable to complete the competition. And that sucks. But it does not diminish everything you accomplished before it. You deserve a fucking milkshake.”
I glance at her from the passenger seat, a grin spreading over my face as her brows furrow in concentration, her pert nose scrunched. Her eyes dart to mine, simmering with determination. I can only laugh, surrendering. “Okay, baby.”
“This is way toomuch food, Wills.” I stare down at the open boxes of burgers and fries spread across my bed, each with a different array of toppings.
“I didn’t know what you were going to like,” she says between bites of cheeseburger. “One of those is animal-style, the other is just a regular Double-Double.”
“What do these things mean?”
She snorts. “Double-Double is a burger with two patties. Animal-style means it has grilled onions and pickles.” Willow points to the fries. “That’s why I also got plain fries, cheese fries, and animal-style fries, with the grilled onions and spread.”
“Spread.” I gag. “Terrible name for sauce. And animal-style? I feel like I’m on a porn set.”
“Mmm.” She hums. “We could make it one later, if you want.”
My brows shoot up, right along with my cock.
The silk of her sultry laugh runs along my skin, eliciting flames along my flesh. “Weird names aside, it’s fucking good though.” She holds a white cup with red palm trees dotted along the top to my lips. “Neapolitan shake. Fucking good too.”
“I stand by the fact that I’m only a sweet tooth when it comes to your pussy,” I rasp, pinning her with my eyes as I lean in and wrap my lips around the straw. “But the shake is all right.”
She rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the blush that tints her cheeks.
She’s not wrong about the food. I devour my burger and fries—the animal-style version of both. Once we’re done, Willow gathers the remainder of the food and darts to the big house to pass them off to her parents, as well as shower and change.
I showered too while she was gone and am pulling my legs into sweats when she re-enters my bedroom, leaning against the door—bare feet, sun-kissed skin on full display beneath a pair of tight, athletic shorts and a long tee. She’s fresh faced and glowing—fucking beautiful as she tilts her head and smiles at me. “Are you feeling any better?”
“Physically or mentally?” I ask with a rough laugh, pressing a kiss to her lips as I pass her on the way to the bed. “Better on both fronts. It doesn’t hurt to breathe anymore, so I think my rib is fine. I’ve had bruised and broken ribs before, I’d know if it was bad. My muscles are a little sore—and will probably feel worse tomorrow, but for now I’m fine. Would feel a lot better with you in bed beside me, though.”
I expect her to blush or grin, but instead, Willow’s face falls, expression becoming crestfallen. Still, she pushes off the wall and crawls onto the foot of the bed. “Your father? He did that to you?”
I swallow, nodding as she slowly comes up beside me, running her hand along my torso with a cautious touch. “I wish I could erase it, Wes,” she says softly. “All the pain he caused you.”
