Anna

After our shower, Wes convinces me to go running with him. I drive him to The Grumpy Monk to get his truck from the parking lot, and follow him to John’s so he can change.

While we run, my body tells me all the places it’s sore, and my mind plays the last twenty-four hours on repeat. The church. The Grumpy Monk. Wes’s confession. Telling him how I feel about him. Having sex.

With Wes.

My childhood crush and brother’s best friend.

And, holy shit, the sex was amazing.

After We slow down in front of John’s place and catch our breath. Wes is so sexy, even while sweaty after a run. My core clenches, and I wish we’d never left my bed this morning. I bend over to stretch my legs and steady my breathing.

A warm hand lands on my lower back, causing me to straighten.

Then I’m out of breath for a whole different reason.

Kissing Wes is all-consuming. I love the way he holds my face, angling it so that he can get deeper. I love the stubble on his jawline that scratches my skin. But my favorite is his groan.

God, that groan.

The rumble starts in his chest.

And, even though my body felt sore and tender just a second ago, now, I’m tingly and needy.

A car passes by, and he jumps away from me. My heart beats frantically in my ears as I startle. He looks at the car and then relaxes. I’m assuming to make sure it wasn’t John. My stomach feels queasy all of a sudden. Wes is a foot away from me, but it might as well be a mile.

“You don’t want John to know?” I whisper.

He rubs the back of his neck, agitated. “No, I do. I just…need some time to figure out the best way to tell him. And your parents.”

“My parents? They love you, Wes.”

“I know they do. But they love me as John’s friend. Not as your…” He struggles with naming what we have.

“Not as my boyfriend?”

“Right.”

“They’ll love you no matter what.” Doesn’t he know this by now? They loved him after he got arrested and sent to prison. Loving me is a far lesser crime.

He sighs. “I’m not the best catch, Anna.”

I want to take the bees in my stomach and throw them at him. “This again?”

“I’m fresh out of prison. No parents want their daughter to end up with a convict. I have a probation officer who can show up unannounced and go through all of my personal things just to make sure I don’t have drugs on me. I’m twenty-eight and living with my friend—their son! The only good things I have are the things they’ve given me.”

He turns away, dejected, looking at the pavement. His chest is heaving, and I want to take away all of his insecurities.

“I want them to know I can take care of you.”

“I know you can take care of me.” I lift up his arm to drape it over my shoulders, leaning into his side.

He squeezes me. “Can I just have a little bit of time before we tell them? I’m working really hard, and I want to show them I’m worthy of you.”

I want to tell everyone how much I love him. That this man is mine. That he makes me feel safe and protected. Cherished and loved.

But how can I not give him anything he asks for when he looks so vulnerable?

“Okay.”

Wesley

I bury my nose in Anna’s hair and breathe a sigh of relief. “Really? You don’t mind waiting to tell everyone?”

“As long as we can be together while we wait.”

“Yes, of course. I want to see you all the time.” He pulls me closer. “We’re together almost every day as it is anyway, so I don’t think anyone is going to raise an eyebrow at that. Can we just…let them think we’re only friends for a little while longer?” I know I’m asking a lot of her, but the fear of the Bellamys’ disapproval is a living entity inside my gut.

“But…you want to be more, right? You’re not thinking this is a mistake, are you?”

Shit. My anxiety has made her insecure.

“Hey”—I look at her worried brown eyes and want to replace the worry with happiness—“I’m already yours. I have been forever.”

“Okay. We’ll tell them when you’re ready. Now, feed me breakfast.”

We walk back to John’s house, as Anna claims she can’t run one more step. We’re laughing when we walk in the back door to find John in the kitchen, cooking breakfast.

“Hey, early birds!” he chirps, looking from me to Anna.

“Morning.”

“Hey,” Anna greets, wide smile still on her face.

John stares at her, taking in her flushed face, sweaty tank top, and running shorts. “What’re you guys up to?”

“Just got back from a run,” I tell him.

John flicks his eyes to me, conveying his gratitude. He’s the one who suggested I get her running again and still comments about how he knew I could get through to Anna. I wonder if he’d be this happy if he knew I had sex with her. Twice. I keep my expression blank and force myself not to look guilty.

“When are you going to come running with us, John?” Anna asks.

“Um, maybe next time.” John adds more bacon to the pan, and the sizzle makes my mouth water.

I grab two bottles of water out of the fridge and hand one to her. “Your brother can’t run for shit.”

She laughs.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. I can run. I just choose not to.”

“Is that what happened that one time you came running with me? You chose to collapse after the first mile?”

“Hey”—he slaps his pecs—“I’m fit. I’d just rather get my cardio elsewhere.”

Anna makes a face. “Ew, gross. Let’s not talk about your choice of cardio.”

He smirks at her and then turns to me. “Speaking of which, Tae said he was forcing you to go out last night.”

My heart stops. Shit. Did Tae see us outside the bar, kissing, last night? Did he say anything about Anna being there, too? I need to stick as close to the truth as possible.

“Yeah, we went to The Grumpy Monk.”

“Oh, I’ve been to that place; it’s cool.” He piles eggs, bacon, and toast onto three plates while Anna reaches for the silverware and napkins.

“It was pretty cool,” Anna agrees. “Desirae forced me to go out last night, too.”

“To the same place?”

She glances at me and gives me a slight shrug. “Yeah.”

“Look at you, going out on a Saturday night.” John smiles softly at his sister, affection clear in his eyes. He’s been worried about her.

“Ugh, don’t look at me. I’m gross after that run.”

“I don’t know. I think it’s a pretty good look on you. You look…happy.”

She stares across the table at me, and I can’t help but agree with John. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, but today, her eyes have more sparkle than sadness.

“I am happy.”

Once Anna leaves, I call Eddie. He mentioned he might be able to stop by, look at my designs, and give me some pointers.

“’Lo?” his gruff voice answers.

“Hey, it’s Wes. We still on for today?”

“Be there in thirty.” He isn’t a man of many words, but he’s amazingly talented and a fair boss.

I’m anxious to see what he thinks.

I take the thirty minutes to put the furniture into arrangements in the garage. There’s an ornate formal dining room table with chairs to match. Then, a more modern, geometric high-top table with barstools. A simple bookshelf with clean lines. A traditional dresser and matching nightstands and my favorite chair off to the side. I have a few more pieces but leave those stacked up in the back, as I’ve run out of space.

It’s not a second later when I hear a car pull up the drive and a door slam. Opening the garage door, I step out to catch him before he heads to the front door.

Eddie’s not a big man. He’s in his late fifties, maybe early sixties, with brown skin and short, cropped salt-and-pepper hair. His hands are calloused, but his eyes are kind as he greets me.

“I’m excited to see what you have, Mr. Scott.”

“Come check it out. Please tell me if it’s shit.” I gesture behind me. Then, I stuff my hands in my pockets as I watch and wait for his verdict. Please don’t be shit. Please don’t be shit.

He walks around each piece, smoothing his hands over the wood. He crouches in front of some of them, sits in the chairs, and holds up the bookshelves. His face gives nothing away as he checks everything out. Hope weighs down my gut, speeds up my heart, and makes me sweat. I try to play it cool, but it’s no use.

Ten minutes feel like an hour, and I can’t take it anymore. I clear my throat. “So, what do you think? Do you think I could sell them?”

He sits down at my dining room set and gestures to the seat across from him.

Fuck, he doesn’t think I can sell.

I join him. “Just tell it to me straight. I can take it. What do they need? Upholstery? More detail? Should I stick with one style, like a signature?” Anxiety makes me ramble.

He smiles and brightens his face, the corners of his eyes crinkling with delight, and I breathe in relief. He likes them.

“Mr. Scott, I have a serious question for you.”

I nod, indicating for him to ask.

“What in the hell are you doing working for me, when you can do all this?” He smooths his hand over the inlaid detailing in the center of the table.

“Finding a job isn’t so easy with a record; you know this.” I stare at the detailing he just touched, remembering the hours it took to get it just right.

“Have you tried to sell them yet?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure where to start or what to charge. Everyone keeps telling me to get on social media to post pictures of everything, but no one wants to buy from a convicted felon. I’m not sure that’s the best way to go.”

“Tell me this. What do you see for yourself? Forget about the prison thing. Do you see your pieces for sale in a furniture store? Or do you want to have your own business and have your own place?”

My answer is fast and sure. “My own place.”

He slaps his hand down on the table. “Then, that’s what you’re going to do.”

“Nothing is as easy as deciding to do it.”

He nods in understanding. “No, but deciding is the first step. It’s not going to happen overnight, but I have some ideas on steps you can take to make it happen.”

“Let me get a pen and paper to make a list.”

We spend an hour making a list. I’m so grateful he took a chance on me, and I tell him so on his way out.

“Thanks again for giving me a job.”

“You know, I’m happy I helped you. Makes me think about other people who get out of jail and want a second chance. I could use another helping hand around the warehouse. How do I get my application information to your probation officer? Maybe he could put me on the convict-friendly list.”

I blink. “You’d really want to do that?”

“Everyone deserves a second chance.”

I’ve never been as nervous for Sunday dinner as I am today, but it goes off without a hitch. Mrs. Bellamy peppers everyone with questions about their week. John reports that Anna ran with me that morning, making Anna the center of attention for a minute. Her parents study her, commenting on how pretty she looks. She isn’t wearing anything different—jeans and a book T-shirt that says, A book a day keeps reality away. But she looks happier, which makes everyone notice. Her smile is less brittle, her replies less automatic, her voice loud and strong.

I can’t help but hope, maybe I had something to do with making her happy.

After dinner, I catch Mr. Bellamy in the hall and force myself to look him in the eye and not feel guilty.

“Hey, Mr. Bellamy, do you have a minute?”

“Of course. What’s up?”

We sit down in the den while everyone else is cleaning up in the kitchen.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans and take a deep breath. “I need to go to the bank and apply for a loan. Do you have any tips? Advice?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “What’s the loan for?”

“I want to start my own business.”

He beams at me, looking half-impressed and half-proud. “Why don’t you tell me your plans? And I’ll help any way I can.”

And, just like Eddie, he gives me tips. I diligently take notes, asking him questions about bank accounts, licensing information, and lawyers.

His eyes gleam at me when I fold up my list. “I’m so proud of you, Wesley. I’ll go to the bank with you this week; just tell me when you have some time off.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense. I’m happy to help. And have you taken before and after pictures of your inventory?”

I nod.

“Forward them to me.”

“Um, okay. What do you need them for?”

He just shrugs and says I’ll see.

I feel lighter and more hopeful than I ever have in my life. I can make this work. It’s all within reach. If I could have Anna, open my own business, and buy a house for us to live in, I’ll be the happiest man alive.

When we rejoin everyone in the kitchen, John indicates that he’s ready to leave. We drive here together since we live together.

It turns out, leaving is the hardest part of this get-together. I want so much more than the meaningful glance and nod Anna and I give each other. I want to hold her close and kiss her.

Fuck, I don’t want to leave her at all. I want to sleep with her again.

To be inside her again.

It’s my own fault, so I can’t even be mad. That doesn’t stop me from stewing. I sit in silence on the drive home, staring out the window.

“Anna looked so happy today. Didn’t she?” He pulls into the driveway and parks the car.

“Yes, she did.”

He smacks my shoulder. “Thanks, man. You make her happy, you know.”

I grunt, unsure of what to say to that.

He sighs, staring at me, as if seeing right through me. I wonder what he sees.

“Anyway, I’m going to head over to Reanell’s tonight.”

“Oh, okay. You spending the night over there?”

“Yep. Don’t wait up. See you tomorrow night.”

“See ya.”

I exit the car with a smile on my face. I’m going to see my girl, too. And, now, I don’t have to make up some bullshit excuse for John.