“Oh my god, I forgot about Jaz.”
I slap a hand to my forehead and instantly regret it because it jostles my pounding head. I scan the room, looking for my phone. My eyes land on the luggage stacked by the door where Frank must have left it last night. Oh man, Frank. I owe him a big thank-you as well. I dig through my purse and retrieve my phone. It’s dead of course. I’m antsy knowing that I bailed on Jaz last night without a word—she’s probably worried sick.
“Wes? Did you see Jaz this morning?” I holler back to the bedroom as I grab my phone charger, but a movement at my side causes me to jump.
“No need to shout.” He gives me a little smile and sets some medicine on the counter in front of me. “And, yes, I saw her. I explained what happened, but she’s still worried about you. I told her you’d text her.”
“Okay, thank you. I can’t believe I forgot. I feel so bad.”
I’m watching my phone like a hawk, waiting for it to power back up. The little apple appears on the screen, and I let out a sigh of short-lived relief as it begins pinging with notifications from the last fifteen hours or so. Most of them are from Jaz, getting progressivelymore frantic the longer I wasn’t responding. I decide to reply to the last one, which is from this morning.
Jaz
Bloody hell Joss. Would you text me back already?
My hands fly across the screen. I love her for how worried she was; it’s nice to know someone cares.
Me
I’m so sorry, Jaz. Wes just told me he saw you and filled you in.
Jaz
Don’t apologize, I’m just glad you’re ok. You’re ok, right?
Me
Yeah, still not feeling great, but better than last night.
Jaz
Is Wes still there? Do you need me to come over?
Me
He’s still here. I think I’m good. Call you later?
Jaz
Yes please. Will you thank Wes for me again? I’m glad someone wasthere for you.
The last two words tumble in my brain for a minute. Not therewithyou—thereforyou. It’s a subtle difference, but in the context of my life, it’s kind of eye opening. How many people have beenwithme but have never truly been thereforme? Jaz has been my best friend for as long as I’ve been in Sydney, and she’s the only one who could possibly understand how much it means to me that Wes stayed last night. I’m not even sure I fully understand how badly I needed that.
That stinging feeling in my nose and behind my eyes returns. Man, what is happening to me? I haven’t been this emotional in… well, about seven years. Goose bumps prickle on my arms at the reminder of that time. I guess the floodgates were bound to open eventually.
My gaze lifts to find Wes watching me intently, like he’s just waiting for me to pass out again. Or waiting for me to explain why I look like I might start to cry—again.
“What are you hiding over there in that pastry bag?” I wiggle my eyebrows, trying to break the tension before it pulls so tight we break instead.
“This bag?” He opens it just a little and makes a show of sticking his nose in and inhaling deeply. “Mmmm, I don’t know if I want to share.” His tone is teasing, and there’s a little flutter in my stomach that I have to ignore.
“But I’m sick.” I give him my best puppy-dog eyes and force a couple of fake coughs into my hand. Unfortunately, the action leads me into an actual coughing fit, and I have to brace my hands on the counter to ride it out.
“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says with a cheeky grin. “And that I know just how sick you are, or I really might keep these all to myself.”
He moves on and starts pulling pastries out of the bag. There’s an apple fritter and a cranberry orange muffin. My mouth waters at the sight.My favorites. I make a note to thank Jaz later.
My stomach chooses then to let out a loud grumble, and it’s enough to remind me that I haven’t eaten in far too long.
