Wesley

I haven’t been to Anna’s place yet, but John pointed it out the other day. The drive takes longer than I want it to, and the two calls to her cell go unanswered. I park hastily and jog up to her building, pressing the button for her apartment.

No answer.

I try the door, but it’s locked.

Shit. My heart pounds with urgency. All I can see is the way her face crumpled at Charlie’s angry words.

“I wish I never would have fallen for a selfish liar like you.”

Fuck. If I can’t get those harsh words out of my brain, what are they doing to Anna? Why won’t she answer the buzzer?

“Do you mind holding the door open?”

The voice startles me, but I turn to see an elderly man with a cane, carrying a box and fumbling with the door. I immediately grab the door and stand back to allow him to pass. Then, I thank my lucky stars as I enter the building and head for the elevator. I pound on her door, anxious to see her face, to make sure she’s okay.

“Anna, it’s me, Wes. Please open the door.”

Nothing.

Icy fear makes my hands shake. I knock again. “Please, Anna. I just need to make sure you’re okay.”

Nothing.

I cup my ear against the door, shamelessly trying to listen for any movement or sounds inside.

Still, nothing.

I knock again, louder this time, and try the doorknob just in case. To my surprise, it works. I turn the knob and rush inside, heart hammering.

“Anna! It’s Wes. You okay?” I call loudly. I don’t want to scare her, but I’m desperate to see her.

I listen for any signs of life, but the only thing I hear is water running. My ears lead the way to the source of the sound, and I end up standing in front of what must be her bathroom. She’s in the shower.

I knock gently. “Anna?”

I strain to hear her response. If only my heart and breathing weren’t so damn loud! I quiet myself and try to turn off the part of my imagination that has gone haywire, imagining her hurt and bleeding on the other side of this door. I can’t just bust into her bathroom, can I? If she’s in the shower, she’s likely naked in there. And, as much as I’d love to see her naked, nothing about this circumstance is arousing.

When I finally hear something, it’s a loud thump, followed by a moan and sobs. My heart stops and then catapults into overdrive. I don’t even spare the time to knock again. Or call out her name.

I’m a man on a mission.

I rush into the bathroom, find the shower stall, and pull back the curtain to find my Anna crumpled on the floor of the tub, fully clothed, arms around her legs, face buried in her knees. Her eyes are closed, face contorted, tears lost in the water pelting her skin.

Oh, Angel.

I toe off my shoes and climb in, yelping in surprise when I realize the water is freezing cold. I immediately turn the faucet off and pull a towel off the towel rack. Plopping myself on the opposite side of the tub, I gather her on my lap and cover her with the towel. She’s trembling and sobbing.

“Shh, Anna, I’m here. I’ve got you. You’re okay,” I murmur soothing words while trying to warm her up.

What scares me the most is, I’m not sure she’s even registered I’m here yet. Her sorrow has swallowed her whole.

What should I do? Does she need to go to the hospital? Should I dial 911? Think, dumbass, think.

Okay, she’s breathing; I know that. She’s trembling and cold, but she couldn’t have been in here for more than ten minutes; I left right after she did. She’s crying, but that isn’t a reason to go to the hospital. Unless…

“Anna,” I say sharply, reaching for her wrists to examine them. No cuts, no blood. “Anna!” I shout, causing her to flinch. “Did you take anything? Pills?” I crane my neck to search the bathroom for any pill bottles. Nothing. I want to shake her to get answers. Instead, I gently tilt her face up in hopes she will look at me.

Wet, red-rimmed eyes meet mine. Tears are still streaming down her face, but she focuses on me.

“Angel,” I say softly, “I need you to tell me if you took anything.”

The movement is small, but she shakes her head.

I breathe out a sigh of relief. Thank God.

Okay, she’s cold and upset but not in need of medical attention. I can deal with this.

I pull her close again, tucking her head under my chin, and I hold her. I wrap my arms around her and soothe her with pets and gentle words until she stops trembling. Until my legs fall asleep. Until her breaths match up with mine.

I hold her for so long, I think maybe she fell asleep.

Smoothing her damp hair away from her forehead, I kiss her skin, keeping my nose close and inhaling her sweet peach scent. I keep breathing her in, memorizing the feel of her against me, wishing she were in my arms for any other reason. The feelings I have for her are undeniable. I would do anything for this girl.

I want to take away her pain.

I want to make her happy.

I want to erase the horrible words Charlie said to her and replace them with words of love.

I’m in love with Anna.

And she doesn’t love me.

But, if she can’t be mine in the way that I want, I’m determined to be her friend. I might not have been around the past ten years, but I’m here now. And I’m not going to let her push me away.

After coaxing her into taking a warm shower and changing into fresh clothes, we sit at her kitchen table, sipping hot tea with a splash of bourbon.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, staring into her drink.

“Don’t be sorry.”

She shrugs, her pretty face slack with sadness.

“Want to talk about it?” I ask quietly.

She huffs out a laugh. “Not really.”

“What Charlie said…it was harsh, Anna. He never should have talked to you like that.”

She shakes her head. “I deserved it, Wes.”

I clench my jaw, wishing I’d punched that asshole in his dimpled face when I had the chance. “No, you didn’t.”

“You don’t understand.” Her hands cover her face, brushing away a couple of stray tears.

“Are you still in love with him?” I hold my breath and keep my expression carefully blank, not really wanting to know the answer, but really wanting to know the answer.

She meets my gaze, her eyes so sad. “No, I’m not. Charlie and I…we were together so long ago; we’re strangers now. I just hate the way things ended between us. It was all my fault, and he hates me. I’m a horrible person.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she snaps.

I hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay. You don’t have to tell me anything. But nothing you did or didn’t do will make me believe you’re a bad person, Anna. I know you.”

“I made a mistake,” she admits in a small voice.

“Yeah, so did I. You must think I’m a horrible person, too, then.”

Her eyes fly up to mine. “No, I didn’t mean that. I don’t think you’re a bad person, Wes.”

“Aren’t I? I made a mistake. I made many mistakes. Working for Bryce, dealing drugs. Fuck, Anna, I went to prison for ten years because of my mistakes.”

“You’re not a bad person, Wesley Scott. I don’t care if you went to prison. I know you, too.”

I hold her gaze, wishing she could see the irony of what she’s saying here.

“What makes you so sure?”

She scoffs, at a loss for words. “One mistake doesn’t define who you are.”

Bingo.

I raise my eyebrows in triumph, pointedly looking at her. “Well said.”

She shakes her head, waving her hands in front of her in denial. “I was talking about you.”

“And I’m talking about you. I don’t know what you did, and frankly, I don’t care. If you want to tell me, I’m here to listen, not judge. But, just like you said, one mistake doesn’t define who you are, Anna. You are good, and you deserve to be happy.”

She grunts, looking back to her mug, unconvinced.

We sit in silence, though it isn’t uncomfortable. I’m dying to know what mistake she made, but I won’t push.

“Can I ask you for a favor?”

“What?”

“Can you call me when you’re upset?”

She rolls her eyes.

“I’m serious. I want to be here for you.”

“Why?”

“I abandoned my friend for ten years. I want to be here for you now.”

She shrugs noncommittally. “Okay, maybe.”

“If not me, can you call your counselor?”

“It’s probably a good idea,” she says quietly.

Relief loosens the tightness in my chest ever so slightly.

“I have another favor.”

She raises her eyebrows.

“Can you help me with my projects? Sometimes, I need an extra set of hands.” And I can keep an eye on her while she’s helping me.

She narrows her eyes in suspicion. “Me? Help you?”

I nod, expression serious. “I really need the help.”

“But, now that you’re working for Eddie, won’t you be able to use his warehouse?”

“I still want to build my own inventory, and that has to be on my time. I don’t want Eddie to think I’m stealing his supplies.”

“Why can’t John help?”

“Your brother works all the time. And, if he’s not working, he’s with Reanell.” I give her my best puppy-dog eyes. “Please?”

She sighs. “Okay, I can do that.”

I smile. “Thank you. One more thing.” I might be pushing my luck here, but there’s one more thing I think will help.

She barks out a laugh. “You’re awfully demanding all of a sudden.”

“I need you to come running with me.”

I can see her hackles rise as she protectively crosses her arms over her middle. “And this is a favor to you, how?”

My neck itches with anxiety as I try to find the right words. Running used to be such a big part of her life, and I know exercise helps with depression. I’m afraid this debacle today will have some lasting effects.

“This girl I know used to run…and she got me addicted. I miss running with her.”

It’s the truth. Running with Neil is nice, but it’s not like running with Anna.

Her face softens a fraction, but she dithers. “I don’t know, Wes. I haven’t been running in a long time.” Her eyes flit down to her mug again, as if all the answers to the universe were at the bottom.

I reach over and tilt her chin up, staring at her pretty face. “Okay, you don’t have to run, Anna. I just thought it might help you feel like your old self again.”

Her sigh is heavy. “I don’t think I’ll ever feel like my old self again, Wes. I can’t just…go back to normal. It’s been too long.”

“But maybe you can find a new normal?” I recite the advice she gave to me. It helped.

She uncrosses her arms and rubs her face, looking exhausted all at once. “I’m going to slow you down.”

My smile is unstoppable. “We can go as slow as you want. You set the pace.”

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”