Page 116 of If All Else Sails
“Are you and the dog...wearing matching swimsuits?”
“Yep. And I don’t want to hear a single comment about it, mister.”
I can’t make a comment. Because if they’re wearing matching swimsuits, it means Josie has on a red bikini.
My thoughts are prevented from wandering too far in a direction they shouldn’t go when a shout startles us both from the dock. When I look over, I have to blink a few times to make sure what I’m seeing is not a mirage.
Because it looks a whole lot like Jacob striding toward theQUINTessntial, flanked by two of my former teammates.
“Well, well, well,” Jacob calls with a grin. “It looks like my two favorite people haven’t killed each other after all. Permission to board?”
“So,” Josie says, glancing between Van, Eli, and me, “the three of you are...good friends?”
Van, elbows on his table and chin in his hand, flutters his dark lashes at Josie. “Why? Do we not seem like we’d be besties?”
She giggles, and I consider punching him. Even though I know him well enough to know he’s just being Van and not actually flirting with her, it’s still too much. I settle for kicking him under the table. He shoots me a glare and rubs at his shin.
I’m still in disbelief that Jacob planned this—showing up out of nowhere and bringing two of my closest friends from my old team in North Carolina. Though it’s great to see Van and Eli and Jacob, too, I’m feeling a little off just from the surprise of it.
We’re at a restaurant right on the beach, the kind with a roll of paper towels on every table and the smell of fried fish lingering in the air. The patio doors are open, letting in the sound of the surf, and there’s sand gritting beneath my shoes.
“You just all seem pretty different,” Josie says, and it’s not hard to know what she means.
Van and Eli talk enough for ten people and have kept Josie laughing with stories and teasing. And because I’m not entirely sure how to act around her in front of other people, I’ve kept my mouth closed and my hands to myself.
Josie and I are not...together. But we’re more than just friends. Even friendship is really a change from how we’ve always been. It’s not easy to keep my distance from her. Or to share her attention. Not when I’ve had her to myself for weeks now. I’d love nothing more than to toss her over my shoulder and carry her back to the boat. Alone.
Glancing at Jacob’s arm, casually slung over the back of Josie’s chair, I’m reminded I’ll have to talk to him about my feelings for his sister. I don’t think he’ll be mad, exactly, but I’m not sure. The only time we ever talked about me and Josie in any kind of romantic context was the day she and I met. When Jacob told me she didn’t like jocks.
Now, knowing what I know from her, this makes so much more sense. It makes me want to go back and wrap her in a hug. Or maybe protective Bubble Wrap.
Her gaze meets mine for a brief second, and the happiness I see there loosens the tight squeeze of anxiety.
“I’ve still got those friendship bracelets you made us,” Eli says, elbowing me. He’s got Jib in his lap, and she’s staring up at him like he’s her new favorite person in the world. “I should have brought them as proof. Since, apparently, it’s hard to believe we’re your friends.”
“I don’t make friendship bracelets,” I grumble, which makes Josie giggle again.
“He does,” Van says, flipping his dark hair out of his eyes. “Though he doesn’t call often enough.”
I grumble and fidget with a piece of paper towel I’ve been crumpling in my lap. It’s almost as soft as tissue paper now. “I text.”
Eli laughs. “I’m not sure the occasional text equivalent of a grunt in the group chat counts.”
“Wyatt’s in agroup chat?” Josie sounds like someone just told her bigfoot exists and he’s actually the quarterback for the Seattle Seahawks.
“Here.” Van unlocks his phone and slides it across to Josie. “See for yourself.”
Eli’s brows shoot up. “You’re letting her read the group text?”
Van takes a sip of his beer and leans back in his chair. “There’s nothing too incriminating. And for a bunch of hockey players, we’re surprisingly—sometimes annoyingly—appropriate.”
Though I really don’t contribute much to the group chat that started when I was playing for the Appies, I feel a pinch of nerves at the idea of Josie reading our messages. I try to remember anything I’ve said recently, but Eli isn’t wrong aboutmy contributions. They’re minimal. Guilt swirls in my gut, and I take a long drink of water, watching Josie’s face.
Other than Jacob, who basically attached himself to me like a barnacle from the time we met, I’ve never made or kept friends easily. Not even in hockey, where team camaraderie comes pretty easily with all the time spent on and off the ice together.
Except for this team and these two guys—plus a handful more who are in the same group chat. We’ve kept it up even after many of us scattered to different teams or different lives. I’m not sure if only Van and Eli were available to come, or if Jacob invited only two because he knew the more people he brought, the more overwhelmed I’d be. He winks from across the table. Probably the second option. For all Jacob’s self-involvement, he’s incredibly insightful and thoughtful—when he’s in the mood.
“Wyatt!” Josie says, looking up at me with wide eyes. “This is scandalous.”
