His brothers both looked at him, their mouths open. Their expressions might have been comical if he didn’t feel so heavy.
“Man. You really are clueless,” Noah said.
Wes let out something close to a growl, dropped his hands, and stepped up to his brother. Chris came between them immediately, a hand on each chest.
Wes stepped back, an unrecognizable feeling settling heavy inside of him. “What the hell is wrong with you two?” He didn’t mean to yell but everything felt hazy, like he was reaching for something just out of his grasp. “I’ve been here for both of you for everything. Now, when I’m struggling, trying to figure shit out, you give me a hard time?”
Noah’s chest deflated. He clapped Wes on the back. “We just want you to be happy, bro. You keep getting in your own way and messing that up.”
Wes stared at the space where Hailey had been. “How do you two do this?”
Chris stepped beside him. “Do what?”
His chest was hollow. “Feel so much.”
Noah flanked his other side, all three of them staring at the seat. “I’d like to say you get used to it but I don’t know if you do. Maybe just lean into it?”
Wes breathed in through his nose, filling his lungs, breathing out slowly. He’d fooled himself all these years that it was an active choice not to fall for a woman. His brothers told him it wasn’t something he could control once he met the right woman. He hadn’t believed them. Now, no matter what choice he made, he could end up alone and heartbroken. Worse, he could hurt Hailey. There wasn’t even anything he could have done differently. Once he’d let Hailey into his life, his heart took over. He could deny it, fight it, but really, he had no control over anything.
39
Hailey ignored Wes’s texts and calls. She wasn’t sure how to make herself calm down. She tried deep breaths, staring at the ceiling, a glass of wine, music. Nothing worked. Her skin didn’t feel right. Nothing did. She knew she was proud—knew it was because she was so scared to really rely on someone and trust their feelings. Trust that they wouldn’t leave or let her down.
In the end, she went to the beach. It was California, after all. Not bothering with anything other than her phone, with her ID tucked in the case, she drove to the nearest one, parked, and settled herself on the sand to stare at the water.
The last several years had been an exercise in figuring out not only who she was but also who she wasn’t. She didn’t want to push Wes away simply because he wanted good things for her. She scooped up a handful of sand, let it fall through her fingers, frustrated with herself. Dorian hadn’t given enough. Wes was giving too much. Was she just hard to please? No. Because underneath both relationships, what she wanted was the same: She wanted to be seen. Accepted. And loved anyway.
The waves rolled in a mesmerizing rhythm. Seagulls dove in the distance. A few people, farther down, were splashing in the surf but this late in the day, it was quiet. God, it’d been a long day. After about an hour, no further into solving her own problems than she’d been earlier, she got up, dusted her clothes off to head for her vehicle.
On the way, she passed a food truck and her stomach growled. Waiting in the line, she chatted with the guy for a couple minutes while he made her two fish tacos.
“By the Cup? I was there a couple weeks ago. That’s a great shop you’ve got,” he said. He’d wrapped a green bandana around his head to hold his hair out of his face.
“Thank you,” she said. It was the first thing in hours that had made her smile. “It’s going really well.”
“Rent can be steep. You ever get tired of being locked into one place, I’ve got a buddy who helped me get my truck up and running.” The guy passed her a card.
She stared at it a moment, then looked back up at the guy—Chase. “Thank you. That’s really nice of you.”
He laughed like her comment was funny. “No problem. I mean it.”
She started to walk away but turned back. “Why?”
He’d picked up a cloth but his hand froze in midair. “What?”
Hailey stepped back toward the truck. “Why would you help me? You don’t know me.”
Chase laughed, the creases around his eyes deepening. He set the cloth down, leaned on his forearms. “Why not? Your salads are good. People like variety. Trucks have a lot of benefits.”
“But why help a stranger?”
He stared at her a minute, tilted his head to the side. One of his dark, curly locks tumbled over the bandana. “When we stop looking out for each other, the world gets scary.”