Rebel (25 page)

Lexi stretched up on her toes, her hands filled with plates. “I kinda want to practice something else.”

And she kissed him again. Jax groaned. He set the dishes in his hand down without breaking the kiss and gripped Lexi’s face, pulling her in and kissing her hard. Wes didn’t know how he knew, but he just knew—those two were going to last the distance. He was both thrilled for them and envious of them at the same time.

Rodie let out one impatient bark, dragging Wes’s gaze down to his brindle-and-white face. He took one look at those lopsided ears and smiled. He was one really freaking great dog, which, he knew from a lifetime of raising animals, said a lot about his owner. He glanced at Rubi once more and found her fingers still, hovering over the keys. When his gaze lifted to her face, she was staring, puzzled. The
Are you really okay?
look in her eyes propelled him toward the beach with the Frisbee.

The phone in his back pocket buzzed. He flung the Frisbee for Rodie, then pulled his phone out. “Yep.”

“Hey, stranger.” His sister’s bouncy voice instantly quelled his unease. The tension slipped from his shoulders and his jaw loosened with a smile. Somehow, the simple sound of her voice brought balance back to his topsy-turvy world. His family had always grounded him.

“Hey, yourself. What’s new?”

“Let’s see,” Whitney quipped in a way that made him smile. “Mom and Dad’s clothes drier caught on fire this morning while Tori was at the hospital with Wyatt and Abby and Emma
and
their new puppy were at Mom and Dad’s—”

“
Puppy?
”
He watched Rodie jump the waves and grab the Frisbee. Wes had just talked with Tori, Wyatt’s wife, two days ago, and she certainly hadn’t said anything about a puppy. “Where the hell did the puppy come from?” He didn’t wait for an answer before he moved on to an even bigger question. “And what the hell are they doing getting a puppy when Wyatt—?”

“Tori thought the girls needed a distraction. Said the girls were stressed and depressed with everything going on with Wyatt.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.” He was suddenly reminded of the constant chaos that seemed to reign around his childhood home—family, friends, neighbors, pets, church groups, his mother’s bunko club…and during harvest, complete mayhem for weeks. That brought up thoughts of his niece, Emma. “How’s Emma dealing with that?”

“Well, you know Emma,” Whitney said. “Depends on the day.”

Yeah, he did know. Her autism made it difficult for her to tolerate such chaos. “
You
didn’t suggest that slice of insanity, did you?”

“Bite your tongue.”

He shook his head at just another one of his sister-in-law’s bizarre whims. Kinda like deciding to get pregnant without discussing it with Wyatt, and
before
they’d decided to get married. Although, Wes had to smile when he thought of his oldest niece, the little result of that whim. “That girl… Shit, you know I love her, but sometimes…”

“Believe me, I know. I live here.”

Wes chuckled. “Lots of room out here in California, not to mention a shitload of messed-up heads for you to shrink. You’d be a millionaire in no time.”

“Ah, California…” she said wistfully, then, “Speaking of, Mom tells me you’re flying in tomorrow. I drew the short straw, so I’m stuck on airport duty. You’ll have to take me out for drinks to make it up to me.”

“Deal,” Wes said. “How’s Wyatt?”

“Little better every day. Depressed, which is to be expected. Tori’s…well, Tori. Up, down, sideways.”

“This has got to be hell on her.”

“It is.” Whitney’s voice turned sad. “It’s pretty much hell on everyone.”

“Well, I have good news.”

“Yeah?”

“The physical therapy rig I’m making is really coming along. I’ve got a friend helping me with it. She’s programmed it to respond to muscle stimuli. She’s just adding some safety features as we speak. The whole thing is pretty slick. But don’t tell anyone yet. I don’t want Wyatt to get his hopes up until I have it in my hands, ready to go. I really think this is going to work great, Whit. Get him on his feet faster and stronger.”

“God, I hope so. It’s an amazing concept, and you could build a spaceship out of a trash can. So how are things with you?”

He reached down to take the Frisbee from Rodie’s mouth, and the pup shook out his wet fur, spraying Wes with cool seawater. He glanced over his shoulder toward Rubi and found her watching him, a soft smile on her face. “Another day in paradise.”

Whitney laughed, and the sound made Wes smile. He did miss his family. He missed the support and sounding board they’d always provided.

Which prompted Wes to say, “Hey, Whit?” before he’d fully thought out what he was going to say, then stumbling through, “Do you know much about…neglect?”

She hesitated. “What kind of neglect?”

“In kids. You know, when parents aren’t around or don’t care.”

“Yeah,” she said, drawing the word out with an uncertain tone. “But that’s a broad topic. What’s this about?”

“I have a friend I’m trying to understand better. She had a shitty father, no mother. The way we were raised…it’s hard to relate.”

“A friend…or a
girl
friend?” Whitney asked.

“We’re…kinda trying to figure that out.”

“Oh.” Her voice dropped with dread.

Wes shifted on his feet. “Oh, what?”

“Well…how much time do you have? It’s not simple.”

“Can you just give me the Cliff’s notes?”

“Let me ask you this,” Whitney said. “How deep are you in with her?”

Over his head—that was how deep. “Look,” he backpedaled, suddenly feeling sick. “It’s not a big deal. Forget I asked.”

“That deep, huh?”

“Sorta, kinda, not…really…”
Yes. That fucking deep.

A moment of silence followed. Wes pulled in a breath to cut off the awkwardness, but Whitney spoke before he could.

“The first thing you need to know is that no two cases of childhood neglect are alike, just like no two people are alike, so the effects are as unique as a fingerprint.”

“But like a fingerprint, there are some overall similarities, right?”

“True. The most important of which—for you—would be the person’s inability to form lasting relationships.”

That statement felt like a punch to his gut. When she didn’t go on, he said, “I’m listening.”

“Neglect is just another form of abuse.” So much compassion filled Whitney’s tone, Wes cringed. He couldn’t stand thinking of Rubi as an abused kid. “We can talk about this more when you’re home, but when a child doesn’t connect with some type of primary caregiver, they lack the ability to truly connect with people. They’re often unable to trust, suffer poor self-esteem, and can’t regulate or even understand their own emotions let alone others’. The longest-lasting effect is the PTSD—”

“Wait. What? She wasn’t physically abused…at least I don’t think…” Fuck, he didn’t know. Every muscle in his body was tight.

“She didn’t have to be. PTSD is an emotional reaction. Because she can’t process them correctly, whenever they come—the fear, anger, sadness—she’s going to want to run, or fight back.”

Wes’s mind was churning, remembering everything he’d learned about Rubi over the last two months, everything that had transpired with her over the last week. He glanced back at the group, where Lexi continued clearing the table, laughing at something Rubi said. “What if she has a really good friend? One she’s had for a decade? Someone who’s like a sister to her?”

“That’s a good sign that she can hold a relationship together. But it’s a woman-to-woman relationship, different from the way a woman exposes herself to a man when she’s in love. Romantic relationships are typically the perfect storm for these people, Wes. No smooth sailing.”

Wes’s gut felt shredded now. “Are they… I don’t know… I know this isn’t the right word, but curable? I mean…can someone be rewired?”

“You must really like her,” Whitney said, her voice soft.

Wes didn’t confirm or deny. He was feeling a little fragile himself at the moment.

“Of course there’s hope, Wes. I’m a psychologist. If I didn’t believe I was helping people every day after all I’ve gone through to get here, I’d throw myself off a bridge. That said…after years of treating patients with childhood trauma, my advice to you—as my brother, whom I love and want to see happy—would be to back out as quickly and quietly as possible.”

Yeah…no. Too late for that.

“So,” he said, switching away from the uncomfortable topic, “do you need my flight info?”

“No. Mom gave it to me.” Squealing echoed from the background. “Oh boy. Sounds like they’re having more fun with the dog. I better go. See you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” Wes said, half-serious, half-dreading. “Bye.”

He tossed the Frisbee one more time for Rodie as his sister’s words lay heavily in his gut. But his optimistic side kept fighting on Rubi’s behalf. He picked out all Rubi’s awesome qualities, justified and rationalized backward, forward, sideways, and diagonally to give her the benefit of the doubt. To tell himself he could be the one who was different for her.

But his other side doubted. And dreaded. And second-guessed his decision to start this sexual affair. A sexual affair that had instantly turned into something far more for Wes.

“Dessert,” Lexi called from the porch.

Wes waited for Rodie to return with the Frisbee, then started up the beach toward the house.

As he approached, Rubi closed her computer and met his gaze. Her eyes sparkled. Her smile heated. She leaned on the table and rested her chin in her palm. “Wes likes ice cream.”

He instantly flashed back to her spread out over the kitchen counter, her gorgeous skin contrasted against the light granite, chocolate ice cream smeared over her already luscious body.

As he neared, Rubi’s gaze remained on his, a combination of soft, sweet, and starving. Knowing she was remembering too blew the discomfort away like a breeze, and all the emotions that had broken through the dam just days ago flooded back in.

Oh yeah. He was tripping over this woman.

At the edge of the table, he pulled his phone from his pocket, then planted his hands and leaned down until his forehead touched hers. “I love that look in your eyes,” he whispered. “What are you thinking about?”

One corner of her mouth tilted. “About you. In the shower. How incredibly handsome you looked with your hair wet and off your face. That wickedly intense expression in the moment.” She lowered her voice and brought her mouth toward his ear. “The thought makes me wet.”

His heart thumped so hard he didn’t hear Lexi set down the bowl of strawberries at his elbow. He waited until she’d turned away before he whispered, “Want to stay with me tonight?”

She leaned back enough to meet his eyes.

When she didn’t answer, he added, “Rodie can stay, too. I’ll even let him sleep on the bed. Just not between us.”

Her gaze searched his a moment before she said, “That’s…not really my thing.”

“Neither is fucking a guy more than once,” he said, keeping his voice private. “Or sex with no condom. But you’ve blown through those ideas with flying colors.”

She pressed a hand to his cheek and turned her head to kiss his lips. He wasn’t sure why, but her kissing him in front of Jax and Lexi sent his hopes skyrocketing. “I’ll think about it.”

The smile on her mouth told Wes that was far more of a yes than a no, and his heart constricted with hope.

“You two need a room?” Jax asked. “We’ve got plenty right behind you.”

Wes pushed up from the table, his head light. To cover the intensity of his emotions, he went for melodrama—and heat reduction—by slapping his hand to his chest as if he were having a heart attack, stumbled backward, and fell flat on his back in the pool.

Cool water bathed his body, closed over his head, and a moment of dense silence encapsulated him. When he broke the surface, he laid his head back so the water pushed his hair off his face. Rubi and Lexi were laughing. Jax sat in a chair with a smirk on his face, shaking his head.

“What about now,” Wes asked Rubi.

A slow nod tilted her head and she spoke around laughter. “Definitely leaning toward an affirmative.”

“Yes!” Wes pumped a dripping fist in the air and enjoyed another round of her laughter as he pushed out of the pool. God, he loved making her laugh. Making her happy. It had become his primary daily focus. And the thought of holding her all night, his body tangled with hers, sounded like absolute ecstasy.

Grabbing a towel from one of the patio chairs, he watched Rubi fix an empty plate with pound cake, strawberries, vanilla ice cream, and whipped cream, then slide it toward the spot next to her before putting a few strawberries and a dollop of whipped cream on a plate for herself. He had no idea what it was about watching her fix a plate for him that made him go all funky inside, but it did.

As soon as he sat down, a phone rang. Everyone looked down and checked pockets.

“It’s mine,” Rubi said, pulling her iPhone from her purse at her feet and frowning at the screen.

She tapped a button and put it to her ear. “Rubi Russo.”

She put a strawberry in her mouth as she listened, and Wes cut into the shortcake she’d made for him with the side of his own fork. A vertical crease appeared between her eyes. “
Excuse
…me?”

Her eyes narrowed, mouth tightened, body stiffened. Wes swore the air around her crackled with burgeoning anger.

His stomach fell. He could just about bet whoever was on the other line had just ruined his chance to sleep with her tonight.

Sixteen

Rubi searched her mind to make sense of this, but nothing congealed. And even though she was sure she’d heard the man on the other end of the call correctly the first time, she asked him, “Can you repeat that, please?”

The man gave a heavy, irritable huff. “My name is Richard Klein,” he said in a tone someone would use with a bratty five-year-old. “I’m a real estate broker with Exceptional Properties in Los Angeles, and I’m standing in front of your house with a prospective buyer, but the key in the lock box isn’t opening the door.”