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I just took another sip, my growling stomach answering for me.
Wes pushed a basket of pods across the counter toward me, silently telling me I could brew another shot, and then went to a cabinet by the window over the sink to reach in and pull something out.
“Here,” he said, holding up a protein bar. “Catch.”
I set aside the espresso to catch the bar that came hurtling at my face.
And then all hell broke loose.
11
Win
I finishedmy workout at the same time Max did. I was hiding. Sitting here with sweat drying on my skin, making me feel salty, and hiding.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t the sweat making me feel salty.
It was stupid that I was even down here anyway. I was sure it was just the Jeep bros upstairs.
FYI, Jeep bros = Ryan and Jamie. The pair of them and Wes drove matching Rubicons and thus had been dubbed the “Jeep bros.” This was in addition to the other title all the swimmers at Westbrook had of “Elite bros” or “swim bros.”
It’s a lot of bros. Blame Jamie.
Hiding was not what I was about, so I left the weights in my dust and went upstairs, damp shirt clinging to me.
Max was in the living room with Ryan, Jamie, Kruger, and Prism.
“We just ordered pizza,” Ryan said when he saw me.
“Sweet,” I answered, rubbing my stomach. “After that workout, I need carbs.”
Max looked at me.
“Where’s Wes?” I asked, an inkling of something tickling my spine.
“In the kitchen with Lars.”
I froze for a fraction of a second. “Lars is here?”
“Bro is having coffee withdrawals,” Jamie cracked.
My eyes snapped to Max. “He’s eating. In the kitchen.”
Max shrugged. “They’re making coffee.”
The putrid burn of panic tightened my chest and singed the back of my throat. Feet pushing against the floor, I rushed into the kitchen, turning the corner in time to see Wes pull a protein bar out of the cabinet and toss it.
I watched in painfully slow motion the bar sail through the air, Lars’s hand catch it midair, and his long, nimble fingers close tight around the wrapper.
“No!” I shouted, the slow-motion bursting like a bubble as I threw myself at Lars. I knocked into him and turned, my body taking the hit against the counter even as I ripped the bar out of his hand and threw it across the room. I didn’t know where it landed, and I didn’t care. Keeping my arms around him, I half dragged, half pushed him over to the sink. Plastering him against it, my chest met his back as I leaned around him to turn on the faucet full blast.
“Win,” I heard him say, but the sound of his voice only made my desperation more palpable, and my body blanketed his from behind. Grabbing his hand, I pulled it under the water, holding it there while I poured some soap into his palm.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I spat, scrubbing his hand between both of mine. “I can’t do it again, Lars,” I said, furiously washing his hand. “Not again.”
My breathing was loud in my own ears, the water near scalding as I scrubbed his hand. When it was completely covered in white suds, I grabbed the other one and washed it too.
“Win…” Lars tried again, but I shushed him, shoving him farther against the sink and rinsing his hands.
