If You Never Come Back Page 6

  “I lived with my dad after my mom died, but he wasn’t around much.”

  His eyes remain glued to the road. This time when he speaks, his voice is hard. It’s like a switch has flipped. Soft, sweet Wes is no longer there. The person sitting next to me in the driver’s seat is a steely, closed-off version of him.

  “I don’t like talking about it,” he says.

  The stiff clench of his jaw, the way muscles in his jaw bulge against his skin illustrate that perfectly.

  “Okay. I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s fine.” The harshness of his tone, the way he won’t look at me tells me it’s anything but.

  I peer out my window, studying the scenery as it whizzes past. Minutes pass, all of them silent. I have no right to feel that clench in my chest, the tension in my neck, or cross my arms. Wes and I are still technically in the early days. Expecting him to deep-dive into his family issues with me is absurd.

  I silently repeat this over and over in my head. But then his hand touches mine. I twist my head to look at him. There’s tenderness in his face now. It helps me forget the minutes of tension that just passed between us.

  He pulls the car over and turns to me. Leaning closer, he clasps my face with both of his hands. “I’m sorry for how I acted just now.”

  He presses a kiss to my forehead. Wrapping my hands around his wrists, I close my eyes. All the frustration and hurt feelings from minutes ago melt away, like a snowflake in a heatwave.

  “The only family I have is my dad, and he’s not a good person.” He speaks with his mouth pressed against my forehead. Despite the sad subject, it’s the most intimate, comforting feeling in the world having him speak to me like this.

  “He didn’t…he wasn’t a good parent. He was hardly around. He never remembered my birthday. I never had a birthday party till I was in high school and my friends threw one for me.”

  I have to swallow to keep the lump in my throat at bay. I couldn’t imagine enduring such indifference, such cruelty from my own parents. And yet Wes has dealt with it his entire life.

  “When I was old enough to make my own decisions, I cut off all ties with him,” he says. “My friends are my family. And you.”

  Another kiss on my forehead, and I melt. If I weren’t sitting in the car, I’d collapse at the overwhelming joy his words give me. Me. I’m like family to Wes.

  I lean back to look up at him. “You mean that?” I ask, my voice shaky.

  “Every word.”

  When we kiss, my heart races. Silently, I make a promise to Wes. I don’t want to ruin the peace, the closeness of this moment when he declares me his family—the family he’s chosen for himself. In my head, I vow to be the family he never had, to do everything they should have done for him.

  We settle back into our seats, he pulls onto the road, and I think of the most perfect surprise for him.

  Chapter Seven

  Thank goodness Wes is a summer baby. It makes it a million times easier to plan his surprise birthday party in June when the weather is warm. Trudging through the snow, ice, and slush while carrying multiple party favors is as un-fun as trips to the gynecologist or waiting in line at the DMV.

  I dump two armfuls of grocery bags on the floor in the back office at Dandy Lime.

  Remy peers up from the spreadsheet on his computer, eyebrow raised. “That’s what you call ‘just a few things?’”

  “Very funny.” I dump one bag, which contains streamers in every color. The remaining bags are a hodgepodge of kids’ party supplies, like pin the tail on the donkey, ring toss, and stuff for sack races.

  We unload the bags together. Remy holds up a container of mini candy bars and a mini bottle of rum. “What are these for?”

  “The adult goodie bags I’m making.”

  Remy beams. “You’re one hell of a thoughtful girlfriend, you know that?”

  “Wes never had a birthday party as a kid.”

  He pats my shoulder. “He’s going to love it.”

  “Thank you for closing the bar early tonight so we can have his birthday here.”

  He gives me a bear hug before digging into another shopping bag. “It’s my pleasure, cuz. I owe you for all the help you’ve given me these past few months taking all those extra shifts.”

  I unspool a ream of bright blue streamer. “Always.”

  “It means a lot that you still help out, even though you don’t need the money anymore with your business taking off.”

  I bite back a smile. I finished a series of watercolor landscape images inspired by that hike with Wes last month. Each one sold within a week. I’ve been replicating the image on smaller scale items like coasters, bags, postcards, phone cases, and magnets, which have all been a hit as well.

  “No more talking about it.” I scrunch my nose up at him. “I don’t want to jinx anything.”

  “Aye aye, captain. Now, tell me exactly how you want me to decorate the place.” He grabs a bag of decorations.

  After decorating Remy’s bar and picking up the food and cake, I’ve got less than two hours until Wes and I are due at the surprise party.

  I throw on a yellow sundress and sandals, then swipe on makeup in the bathroom. In my head, I go over the guest list, which is me, Remy, and a dozen of Wes’s friends, most of whom I remember from Valentine’s Day.

  I hum to myself as I remember how thrown off I felt at his friend Colin’s request for a slap, the cheeky look on Wes’s face, our crazy hot makeout in the women’s bathroom.

  The sound of Wes’s keys jingling in the door snaps me out of my reminiscing session. I have to be on top of my game if I want to squeeze in everything I have planned before his surprise party.

  I tie a length of red streamer across my chest, the bow resting at my cleavage. When I walk out of the bathroom door, Wes’s brows jump up in shock. He scrunches up the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt. He had meetings with clients all day, otherwise he’d be dressed in my favorite outfit of ripped jeans and a tattered, soaked-with-sweat t-shirt. But whether he’s dressing for his project manager role or moonlighting as a laborer whenever a worksite is short-handed, he always looks good enough to eat.

  A slow smile crawls across his face as he ruffles his thick, dark hair with a hand.

  “Happy birthday, baby.” I wink at him.

  He walks toward me in slow, steady steps. “I thought my birthday treat was what you gave me this morning.” He runs an index finger along the red bow. “I get this, too?”

  I nod, then bump his nose with the tip of mine. His eyes flash.

  “Pancakes and a blowjob are birthday morning activities,” I say. “There are plenty of evening activities in store for you, too.”

  He doesn’t bother to loosen the ribbon. He simply rips it off with one hand while the other holds my waist. My breath catches at the carnal gesture.

  With his body pressed against mine, he walks me across the apartment until the backs of my knees hit the edge of the bed. I fall on my back as he drops to his knees.

  “I need you,” he rasps. “Now.”

  It’s a command more than anything else. His voice is rough, his eyes are wild, and his hands are at the hem of my panties, yanking them down.

  I’m panting before his mouth makes it to my skin. At this point in our relationship, just the anticipation of his mouth on me has me on the verge.

  He kisses up my thighs, softly scraping his teeth along the way. I shiver and gasp at once.

  “Best birthday ever,” he groans.

  “Shay, you’ve done enough.”

  Wes clutches my hand as we make our way along the sidewalk toward Dandy Lime.

  I grin as we wait at the crosswalk for the light to change. “I told you, I’m taking you out to dinner tonight and that’s it. I just have to stop by at Remy’s to pick up my sunglasses.”

  It’s a flimsy lie, but it’s the best I could come up with after spending weeks secretly planning Wes’s surprise birthday party.

  Sunlight peeks
from behind the skyscrapers that surround us. My heart races wondering if Wes will love or hate the kid-themed party I planned for him. When I asked what he wanted to do for his birthday weeks ago, he said all he wanted was a night spent with me. Beyond sweet, but I wanted to do something special for him.

  When we round the corner to Remy’s, I notice the black screen shades are drawn over the windows. Smart touch. That way Wes won’t notice that there’s literally no one in the bar, which would be highly unusual for seven o’clock in the evening.

  When I open the door, it’s dead quiet. All the lights are off, which makes it impossible to see the decorations.

  “That’s weird,” Wes says. “It’s never this dead.”

  Just then the lights turn on. Remy, Colin, and the rest of Wes’s friends jump from behind the bar and yell, “Surprise!” in unison.

  I spin to Wes, who sports wide eyes and a fallen jaw. A beat later when everyone is cheering and clapping, he beams. It’s the widest, toothiest grin I’ve ever seen him flash. I love it more than anything.

  “I can’t believe…” he drifts off, his head whipping back and forth as he scans the bar.

  There’s a piñata hanging in one corner and pin the tail on the donkey in another. One end of the bar has been cleared for a makeshift sack race. A ping-pong table topped with red solo cups rests near the hallway by the bathrooms, ready for a game of beer pong.

  He turns to me, his eyes glistening. I fight the lump in my throat as he pulls in for a hug, his lips pressed against my forehead.

  “So sneaky,” he whispers.

  “Sorry, I had to.”

  He looks down at me, still beaming. “Don’t even think about apologizing. This is amazing. Thank you.”

  The playlist Remy threw together hums in the background. It’s the new song from EDM DJ Mari Dash. I nod along to the beat until Wes hugs me from behind, covering the side of my neck in wet kisses. I squeal and kick and laugh as he lifts me off the ground.

  Already we played pin the tail on the donkey, twister, beer pong, and managed a sack race. Through it all, Wes has been smiling and laughing.

  “I think you cheated at that sack race, babe.” He nuzzles my neck.

  I push him away, then spin around. “Such a sore loser.”

  He chuckles before planting yet another sloppy wet kiss on me.

  “Time to redeem yourself, birthday boy.” I point to the piñata. “Have at it.”

  He makes his way over while I head to the bar for some water.

  Colin walks up and high fives me, his shaggy hair disheveled after all the falls he endured during the sack race.

  “Looks like it was an easy victory for you,” he says. “In a dress, no less.”

  I shrug and smile. “When every other competitor is pounding alcohol, it sure is.”

  Colin flashes a thumbs up. He’s on the drunk side of tipsy, but holding up well. All of Wes’s friends are, and it’s one of the reasons I’ve grown to like them so much. All fun-loving guys who enjoy a drink, but who never let it get out of control.

  Colin looks around the room. “This is really something, Shay. You did an incredible job.”

  I down a glass of water, then refill Colin’s vodka tonic. The music from the playlist that Remy put together picks up in the background.

  “Thanks again for coming, and for making sure everyone else did, too. It wouldn’t have been such a great surprise if it had been just Remy and me.”

  Colin nods, then frowns. From the corner, Wes laughs just before Remy blindfolds him and he takes a swing at the piñata above.

  “So he must have told you about it?” Colin says.

  “About what?”

  Colin sips his drink, then gestures around the room. He wobbles slightly, but he quickly steadies himself. “How he grew up, without all this.”

  “Oh. Yeah, he did.”

  “It’s sad to even think about.” He points to the games in the corner. “I was almost in tears when he finally opened up to me about all that stuff with his dad. I mean, we were best friends as kids, and I still didn’t know the full story. That guy keeps his past in a vault.”

  I frown at him, but bite my tongue. I want to know everything about Wes’s past. Maybe listening to Colin while he’s tipsy and loose-lipped is my best bet at finding out more, as underhanded as it is.

  “So it took a while for him to open up to you?” I ask.

  He nods. “Years.”

  A loud burst of cheers and laughter jerks our attention back to the piñata. The rest of Wes’s friends cheer him on as he lands a hit that rips open the middle of the piñata, which is in the shape of a giant letter “W.” A cascade of candies falls to the floor.

  “But I don’t blame him,” Colin says. “If my dad had been an alcoholic, I wouldn’t have wanted people to know either. Never home for more than a week at a time. Poor Wes had to learn to fend for himself ever since he was five. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, homework. Pretty much everything.”

  I force myself to keep a neutral face as he speaks, but on the inside, I’m a million question marks. Where were his relatives when his dad was MIA? How did no one notice an elementary schooler doing all that on his own?

  “Really?” My voice is soft.

  “It wasn’t until he moved in with my family freshman year of high school after his dad landed in prison that we all realized just how bad things were. If my parents hadn’t been able to take in him, it would have been more years in foster care for him.”

  “Foster care?”

  In the background, another EDM song plays, but I don’t even hear it. My thoughts are focused on what Colin just revealed. Wes was in foster care as a kid?

  Tipsy Colin continues. “He already spent most of middle school being bounced around from stranger’s home to stranger’s home. He didn’t deserve to go through that for another four years when his dad got locked up for good.”

  I say nothing, letting the long pause stretch between us. Invisible blocks fall into place in my mind as I scramble to put things together. Wes’s dad went to prison and as a result, he fell into the foster care system. Now it makes sense why he never talks about him or the things he did as a kid. It also makes sense why he and Colin are so close. I didn’t know they shared a home in high school.

  My stomach churns as I stay silent, waiting for Colin to take another sip and say more. It’s not right the way I time my pauses, knowing that if I wait long enough, Colin will keep spilling even more about Wes’s past—the past Wes has only shared tidbits of. But I have to know more.

  Colin drunkenly grooves along to the song. “Damn, I love Mari Dash.” He knocks back the rest of his drink and pats me on the shoulder. “Pee break.”

  He heads to the back of the bar toward the restroom, while I grip a nearby table to steady myself. This peek into Wes’s past has shocked me to the core.

  This man that I live with, this man that I fall for more and more every day, doesn’t feel comfortable sharing his past with me. And it kills.

  I tumble into the shower the second we arrive home at my apartment. Under the stream of hot water, I close my eyes. The rational part of my brain knows that I have no right to expect Wes to tell me anything about his past. He’s been nothing but honest and upfront since the moment we’ve met. He’s never lied, never cheated, never deceived. He’s not under any obligation to spill everything about his childhood to me.

  But that’s what you do when you grow close to someone, when you’re in a relationship. Most people want to open up to their partners because it’s a sign they care about them deeply.

  I’m an open book when I’m with Wes. I’ve told him about my family, my past. He listens with genuine interest, always asking me questions, always wanting to know more.

  When I’m with Wes, I want to tell him everything. But I want him to feel that same way about me. And right now, it’s clear he doesn’t.

  It’s a sign. I don’t make him feel safe or secure, like how he makes me feel.

 
“Shay, you good?”

  Wes’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I cough past the tightness in my throat. “Fine.”

  A whoosh of cold air hits my back when the shower curtain parts behind me. The heat from Wes’s naked body as he stands behind me is an instant comfort, despite the doubt tucked away inside of me.

  When his hands slide around my waist, my muscles give and I practically fall into him. He nuzzles his face into the side of my neck. Goosebumps flash across my skin, despite the fact that the hot water from the shower has turned this tiny space into a mini steam room.

  “Baby,” he whispers. “Thank you so much for tonight. It’s the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me.”

  I swallow back the questions I have no right to ask. Instead, I breathe. “I’m so glad.”

  Palms on my hips, he turns me to face him. He stares, his eyes displaying the trademark intensity that always makes them shine so bright.

  He blinks, then presses his forehead against mine. “I’m lucky Colin ran up to me after I hugged you when we first walked in. I would have lost it otherwise.”

  Water droplets cover his body. Under the harsh bathroom lighting, they shine like a million tiny gems. I have to swallow back a gasp. He looks so raw, so full of emotion, so damn beautiful.

  When he smiles, his eyes glisten. It’s a second before I realize he’s holding back tears. He’s opening up. It’s slow—slower than I would like, but it still means everything. It shows just how strongly he feels for me, just how much I must mean to him.

  Slowly, I slide my hands from his chest to his face. I take my time, savoring each inch of flesh under my touch. I want to remember everything about this moment. The look in his eyes, the way he holds me against him, the emotion coursing through him that’s so powerful, I could swear I feel it in me, too.