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I look toward Wes at the same time Carter moves across the room to join Katie on the floor, drawing my attention away. “You must be Katie. I’m your mom’s friend, Carter. It’s nice to meet you.”
Katie says hello and starts showing Carter her drawings, while Wes rises and signals for me to join him in the hall, out of earshot.We need to talk.
I let out a slow breath and flop back against the wall opposite his office door, resting my head against the brick. “Okay, say what you have to say.”
He doesn’t look happy about whatever it is.
“Are you ever going to tell me what’s going on? Or do I need to ask Carter? I’m sure he has more information than I do now.” His tone has more bite than it did seconds before, and I’m confused as to why, but…
“Now’s not the time.”
Running a hand down my face, I give him a soft smile, trying to make sure it appears genuine but not convinced that it actually is.
Wes blows out a breath and scratches his head. “I just have one question, but can you promise…no more lies?”
My eyes close for a second before I school my features and nod. I can do that.Maybe? I hope…
Wes is about to speak when Katie calls out, “Mom!” interrupting our conversation.
I frown apologetically. “Wes—”
“Never mind,” he says, cutting me off. “Go. Something tells me you wouldn’t have been honest anyway.”
What?
My shoulders drop as he walks away—actuallysulksaway is probably more accurate—and with a fake smile in place, he thanks Katie for playing with him before lightly grabbing Carter’s arm. “Let’s go.”
I watch them both leave, unsure about what just happened but too frazzled by other things to do anything about it now.
When I finally get to bed that night, I’m wrecked. Physically and emotionally. Physically because it’s late—on top of being worked up and unable to sleep myself, Katie was up late for the same reason, too wired to sleep after her excitement at meeting two famous football players today. And emotionally because I’m desperate to know what Wes was trying to ask me. And why he got so mad. Does he want to know about Greg? No, that can’t be it. He seemed upset about it, like it directly affected him. Maybe he’s still pissed off about my lies. Either way, I’ve wasted enough time trying to figure it out, and I’m done. If he wants to be moody, that’s his problem. But I’m not putting up with it any longer.
Wes spends the next day snapping at me any chance he gets, and it doesn’t take long until I’m at a breaking point. I haven’t even had a hint of a smile since he left Katie and me in his office while practically dragging an apologetic looking Carter out the door, and I need answers.
I’m making a cup of late-afternoon coffee in the break room when he walks in. As soon as he spots me, he sighs before running a hand down his face in frustration. I put on a smile and continue my personal pledge to kill him with kindness. “Good afternoon. Lovely weather we’re having.”
“I’ve been looking for you,” Wes replies, completely ignoring my pleasantries. “We need to talk.”
Ugh! When he says it like that it no longer interests me, especially if I’m just going to get barked at. But I agree anyway. And as I step through the door, Wes holds it open for me, only releasing it when I’m completely out of harm’s way.
“Look, I’m happy to talk, but I can’t deal with this hot and cold anymore.”
Wes stares at me in complete confusion. “When was I hot?”
I almost laugh, but bite my lip to hold it off.He’s serious. “Just now. You held open a door for me. Plus you looked after Katie yesterday, and I know you were worried about me. That’s confusing. And, let’s not forget last Saturday night.”
“Okay, I get it. My life is fucking confusing. Half the time I don’t know if I’m coming or going, but I do know this… I might be pissed at the moment, but I can’t stay the fuck away and I still fucking care.A lot.So, it is what it is. And that’s all I’m saying on the matter.”
Alrighty then. Why the hell does that make my heart skip a beat. Stupid, stupid heart.
Wes turns on his heel and walks toward his office, assuming I’ll follow. And of course I do. Because having him pissedat me is driving me insane. Despite the fact that I enjoy pushing his buttons, I’d really prefer to just move past whatever hang-up he has.
A little part of me wants to push back, prove to him that he pisses me off just as much. It’s what I’d do if it was Dylan. But another part of me desperately wants him to pull me into his arms and tell me it’s okay.
After closing his office door behind me, I lean against it and contemplate my next move. How do I play this? Do I smile and flirt? I’ve never been great at flirting, so maybe that’s a bad idea. Maybe I should stamp my foot and—
“So, Archer says the PT is working, but he still doesn’t look great on the field. I’ve noticed he occasionally flinches when his left foot moves a certain way. And as much as he thinks he’s hiding it, he’s fooling no one.”
Huh? Wes eyes me curiously when I don’t say anything and then continues on. “What I need to know is do we need different treatment, or is he talking shit about being ready?”
