Now it was my turn to shift my gaze to my plate full of my absolute favorite. My mouth watered and my stomach rumbled. I was hungry, so hungry that I wanted to just tip the plate to my mouth and gulp it down, no concerns about cheese spilling down my shirt. I remembered how I’d felt on this couch when Ben walked out, and I paused.
“What’s wrong?”
I looked down at my plate and pushed things around with my fork. “Nothing.”
“Hey.” Wes gently took the plate from my hands and set it on the coffee table next to his own. “I don’t care if you eat the food I brought. I just thought it might be good to hit reset, to have a meal you love as you start healing, but I can get you something else.” His voice was so earnest, his hazel eyes searching my own. His hands closed around mine, almost like he was protecting me. “Maybe bringing food was the wrong thing, period. I don’t want you to feel worse.” Wes spoke faster, like he needed to get too many thoughts out. “Is this something you’ve done before? There’s help you can get—disordered eating and overexercise are nothing to take lightly.”
My face heated. “No, I haven’t done it before. It’s just hard to . . .” I started the sentence not knowing how I would finish it. His expression was calm, patient, and he continued looking at me. I didn’t know what to do with the attention other than tell him the truth. “There’s this guy. We kind of . . . hooked up, or we were going to.”
His eyebrows rose, and realization or understanding swept over his face, along with something else. It wasn’t judgment, but a muscle in his jaw ticked. “The guy from the other night? The one you were cooking for?”
“I had a crush on him for years, he’d been a little flirty but told me he was down for friends with benefits, and that I wasn’t . . . up to his standards.”
Wes’s features darkened. “The fuck?”
On instinct, I rushed to Ben’s defense. “I mean—he didn’t say that exactly, but he’s got a public persona, and I . . . I’m not the kind of woman he needs to be seen with. I get it . . . I mean, it’s bullshit, but the pressure to keep a certain way when you’re in the public eye, I know that’s real.” I swallowed thickly. “I wanted to feel I was worth—”
“Stop it.” His hard tone took me aback. “He sounds like an asshole.”
My immediate reaction was to come to Ben’s defense again and explain why it was an issue with me and not him, but Wes looked so unyielding, and his forceful response took me by surprise.
“I know. I’m being stupid,” I mumbled.
“You’re not. I’m sorry.” He handed me my plate, and I missed the warmth of his hands on mine. His expression was pensive, as if he were wrestling with something before opening his mouth to speak again. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. That’s my stuff. My little sister struggled with self-worth. She stopped eating, and it made all her other problems worse. I’d hate to see that happen to you.” Wes’s neck colored.
“Is she okay now?”
Wes glanced away. “We don’t talk that much anymore.”
I wanted to wrap him in my arms, but I clutched the plate instead.
“You’re better than easy fixes, Britta. You don’t need fixing at all. You’re making changes, but not because you were broken to begin with. Please promise me you won’t let this guy, or any guy, make you question yourself again. Anyone who makes you feel you’re not good enough isn’t worth the breath it takes to tell them to go to hell.”
I nodded, blinking back tears and hating that something so stupid could make me question myself. Finally, I took a slow bite, the flavor filling my mouth in a way that woke up my body.
The tension in his face dissipated. “Good, right?”
I took another bite, and a low moan escaped my lips. “Yeah.” I nodded with a slow smile. “Hey, Wes?”
“Yeah?”
In the aftermath of my fall and the hospital, I hadn’t put much thought into what it meant for him to be here.
“You being here . . . This isn’t part of the coaching, is it?”
He paused before answering. “No.” It sounded like he was admitting something. “I wanted to make sure you were okay, but coaches aren’t supposed to meet their clients in person, so . . . this is kind of breaking the rules. Do you want me to leave? I should.”
I shook my head, thinking of my own rules. “No. It’s nice to have the company.” Meeting his eyes, which looked almost green in the light of my living room, I added, “And I’m sorry about your sister. You must miss her.”