Page 78 of Flirting with Trouble

“A’right, Wells, what’s going on?” Grant asks.

“Nothing. I just have things to do.” I continue walking along the stone path that cuts through the lawn to the crest of the hill overlooking the marina.

“Come on, bro,” Fitz urges. “We know you better than that.”

Grant steps in front of me at the top of the hill, blocking my way, and crosses his arms. “You wear your emotions on your sleeve. Always have. You can’t fake smiles worth shit, and you’re usually the first to joke around, so fess up. What’s going on?”

“Whatever it is, you can trust us,” Fitz says.

Yeah, I can fucking trust them. They’ve helped me through the hardest times in my life, and as much as even thinking about admitting the truth hurts, I can’t stop it from barreling out. “You want to know what’s wrong? I’m the fucking good-time guy. That’s what’s wrong. But ever since Victory and I got together, she’s all I want. She’s all I fucking think about. It’s never been like this with anyone, and it’s not because she’s hot or any of that bullshit,” I seethe, as if they’ve accused me of being shallow.

I pace, unable to tamp down my frustration or my heartache. “When I look at her, I see a woman who is good and honest and so fucking strong. But she’s also so damn fragile, and you’d never know it, would you? But I know it.” I bang my fist against my chest. “I see it and I feel it, and I want to be the guy she trusts with that side of herself. I thought I was doing all the right things. That we had something special. I thought I could do this.” I stop pacing and realize they’re just staring at me. “But by the looks on your faces, you know I can’t.” Just like Victory.

“What’re you talking about?” Grant snaps. “What look?”

“The one that says you think I’m too selfish or incapable of having a long-term relationship. It makes sense. I’ve never had one other than Leni, and I cheated on her—”

“You were a kid,” Fitz says sharply.

“So what?” I fume. “I knew right from wrong, and I still hurt my best friend. Love scared the shit out of me. I thought I learned from all that crap, but maybe I’m just fooling myself, and Victory somehow knows I’ll screw up down the road.”

“Wait,” Grant snaps. “What the fuck happened between you two?”

“I don’t fucking know. We always spend the night in my hotel room when I’m there, so Friday night I suggested we spend the night at her place, and she freaked out. She looked scared, or appalled. I don’t know how she looked. But it makes sense. I told her what happened with Leni, and she knows how we grew up. Pretending shit was normal. I’m sure to Victory I’m one big fucking red flag. I guess our childhood fucked me up for good after all.”

“What kid doesn’t have baggage from their childhood?” Fitz asks.

“It fucked me up for a long time, too,” Grant admits solemnly. “I’ve worked through it, and Dad and I are cool now, but, Wells, I don’t think you’re selfish or incapable of having a relationship. You dropped everything to set up a special night for Jules when I asked you to. You called in favors and gave the woman I love the night of her life, when I’m the last person you should have done anything for.”

Thinking about that day, I remember how good it felt to see him come back to life. I would’ve done anything to help him stay on that path, and I was happy to turn the private rooftop dining room at Rock Bottom into a romantic wonderland for the woman who was helping bring him back to us. “You’re my brother. I’d do anything for you.”

“That’s what makes you a great guy,” Grant says. “I was a complete dick to you and everyone else, and you didn’t hold it against me.”

“Like I said,” I grit out. “You’re family.”

“Dude, you’re always the first to help anyone, whether they’re family or not,” Fitz says. “When Abby’s mom died, you offered to buy the Bistro so she wouldn’t have to move back to the island, and we all know you didn’t want to own another restaurant on the island.”

“You would’ve done the same thing.”

Fitz and Grant exchange dismissing glances and shake their heads.

“No, we wouldn’t, and we didn’t,” Grant says.

“You’re a different breed, Wells,” Fitz says. “Remember when Goldie Gallow’s kitchen at the B and B flooded a few years ago and she had a full house and was hosting a community breakfast that weekend? The second you got wind of it, you handled it. You catered breakfasts for her guests and gave them free dinners at Rock Bottom, and you catered breakfast for the whole Seaport community. A selfish person wouldn’t have done any of those things.”

Goldie Gallow is in her eighties. She owns a bed and breakfast in Seaport and has hosted monthly breakfasts for the entire community since before I was born. We went as a family, and I still enjoy going to them.

“He’s right. You’ve never been selfish, Wells,” Grant says. “Not even as a little kid. After Dad moved out, you did whatever the girls wanted just to keep them happy. I could hold them when they cried, but I couldn’t do that pretend-prince shit you did. And you used to pick Mom’s favorite flowers and leave them on her pillow. They’d wilt by the time she found them, but they made her happy.”

I didn’t think anyone knew about that. “How do you know about the flowers?”

“I found her crying one night and saw dirt on her pillow,” Grant says. “I thought one of you had ruined her sheets or something, but she said they were happy tears and showed me the note you left. It said you were sorry Dad moved out and that you would be the man of the house for her.”

Fitz laughs. “Always taking top billing. Even as a kid.”

I smile, appreciating the levity. “She was so sad. I just wanted to help.”

“She showed me where she kept them,” Grant says. “On a bookshelf in her bedroom, pressed between the pages of a gardening book.”