Page 23

He disconnects the call.

February2024

The next morning, I’m awoken by a phone call at six o’clock. A whole hour and a half before my alarm is even supposed to go off. After my phone call with Will, I hadn’t slept at all. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, thinking back on our relationship, wondering if there was ever a time I was happy. If I ever felt loved or desired in his presence. The answer made me want to be sick. The rest of the night, seeping into the early morning hours, was spent trying to figure out what to do with that realization.

The answer ended up being a disappointing nothing because I couldn’t just end a two-year relationship out of nowhere. Especially when he got along with Thomas and my mother so well. He is the first boyfriend I’ve ever had, and I knew he’d probably be my last. My only. My mother’s statements hold some weight: not everyone is going to want me, so maybe I need to hold on to the one who does.

No matter what.

It doesn’t help that the deep, smooth voice of Carter Abrams has infiltrated my dreams. My imagination hasn’t even attempted to conjure up images of what the man could look like, instead allowing me to float in a blissful slumber, surrounded by a voice I haven’t been able to get out of my mind.

I’ve barely drifted off when Thomas calls, wrenching me from one of those very dreams. Thomas wants to have a one-month chat about the update to the pool. Bleary-eyed, I answer all his questions as I stumble into the kitchen to make coffee, which would have been easier if I’d remembered my glasses sitting on the nightstand. He drones on and on about timeline and numbers, everything I already had memorized, before he finally decided he should let me get to the job site.

Before I hang up, he tells me his opinion about helping Bryce and Josie with their house. My blood boils as I listen to him criticize me for not having my priorities straight and, if it should impact my progress on the pool, he’ll pull me from the project and make me come home. I’d turned thirty less than a week into this project, but he talks to me like I’m a child.

By the time I finally get him off the phone, I’m going to be late. I send Bryce a text, knowing he’d be at the property to get some work done, before getting ready in a rush. A simple outfit of jeans and a crewneck sweatshirt is all I have time for, my hair going into a messy bun as I run out the door, a large travel mug of coffee in hand.

Bryce is standing at the lobby desk when I walk in. I can hear the faint sounds of the crew getting ready for the day on the pool deck. He barely looks up from some paperwork when I enter. “Morning. They said they might have to cut electricity today.”

“No shit,” I mutter, dropping my stuff by the desk. I can feel his gaze on me as I look through my bag for my laptop. “I told you they’d be working on some wiring out there today.”

“And I’m just reminding you we could be plunged into total darkness at any moment,” he replies evenly. “You know, since we work in a building that has a giant hole in it.”

“I’m sorry,” I groan. “I shouldn’t have snapp—”

“You don’t have to apologize to me,” he cuts me off. “Look, I get it, you’re still mad at me, but I thought—”

Now it’s my turn to cut him off. “It’s not that, Bryce. I meant what I said yesterday. We’re good and I have nothing to be mad at you for. I had a shitty morning.”

His brow arches, looking at me curiously. “Anything I can do to help?”

Sighing, I collapse into a chair and take a long sip of my coffee, laptop forgotten on the desk. “Unless you know how to convince my boss, who’s also my stepfather, that I’m an adult who’s good at her job and convince my boyfriend to care about my life. Oh, and for my boyfriend to stop telling my stepfather, who’s also my boss, things I tell him in confidence, then no.”

His eyes widen. “Wow, that’s quite the morning.”

“Some of the boyfriend stuff happened last night,” I reply, flipping my hand dismissively. “But don’t act so shocked, you asked.”

“Right, I did.” He takes the other seat, looking at me. I stay slouched in my own chair, looking at him expectantly over my mug. “When it comes to the boss thing, I can’t really help. Besides coaches and sponsors, I’ve mostly worked for myself. I lasted a grand total of three months in a corporate job, but hated it so much I quit and moved halfway across the country to open a club with my best friend.”

“Which tells me you ultimately knew what you wanted. Even if you weren’t ready to accept it. All I know is this job, and I can’t jeopardize it.”

“I don’t know who you’ve talked to, but I had no idea what I wanted.” He chuckles. “That was the problem. I knew what I didn’t want, but I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself or anyone else, mainly because it was the logical next step.”

“I . . .” I swallow thickly. I have more in common with Bryce Clark than I ever would have thought. “I did not know that. I kind of assumed.”

“People have assumed things about me, and Carter, for years. We’re used to it.”

He’s always seemed like the kind of guy who’s nothing but sure and steady in his own confidence. He seemed to have his shit together—he’s opening a business, met the love of his life, and he’s done more in thirty years than I will ever achieve in my lifetime. Hearing that he’s struggled just like the rest of the world is humbling. It’s making me feel less uncertain and lonely.

“I worked my whole life for a career that was over in a matter of seconds, and it’s not something most people care about.” He motions to me like I’m the prime example, and I laugh. “After swimming was done, I did what I thought was the best next step, and I was wrong. I’ll never regret it, because it got me Josie, but I wasn’t happy.”

I bite the corner of my lip. “What are you getting at here, Bryce?”

“Don’t wait around hoping things will get better. You’ll waste your life doing that. Your happiness is your own responsibility. Putting it in the hands of someone else will only lead to disappointment. Even if the person you trust it with is your stepfather or your boyfriend.”

I see it now. For the first time in a month, I see what it’s like to be Bryce Clark’s friend and I realize I was right. He’d go to hell and back for other people, no matter how much it might hurt him. Tears sting the corner of my eyes, but I feel like I’ve just come from the most productive therapy session I’ve ever had. Therapy has never been as real to me as this conversation.

Maybe I need to add finding a new therapist to the list of things I need to do.