Page 29 of Marriage is a Shore Thing (Wilks Beach #2)

twenty-eight

Van

“Well, well, well. What do we have here? It looks like a dead man.”

It’s barely light out when someone grabs the ankle I flopped on top of the covers and yanks. I have enough working brain cells to let go of Geneva before Noah pulls me halfway down the mattress.

“Noah! What are you doing?” Geneva bolts upright, pushing her hair out of her face.

Sometime in the middle of the night, she scooted closer to me, nuzzling her nose against the hollow of my throat. I wrapped my arms around her as her hair flopped over her eyes, tickling my chin.

“Just protecting your honor. No biggie. I’ll be done in a minute.”

I jerk my leg out of Noah’s strong hold and hop to my feet just in time to avoid getting clobbered by him. “Nothing happened.”

“Why are you even here this early?” Geneva asks, shoving blankets aside and wincing slightly as she puts weight on her ankle to stand.

“My new best friend and I were supposed to go for a morning run, but guess who wasn’t downstairs or in his room when I let myself in?”

Oh. I’d completely forgotten. Since my internal clock wakes me up early every day, I hadn’t thought to set an alarm on my phone. Slumbering in Geneva’s sandalwood-scented sheets was, apparently, as effective as taking three sleeping pills.

“That’s it.” She grabs her crutch, hopping a few steps and outstretching her hand. “Give me back my key.”

“No.” Noah jukes and tries to get a hold of me again. “I need it for circumstances like this.”

A quick spin to the left and I’m beyond his grip, putting myself between him and Geneva. I splay my palms in front of me. “I had a rough night and needed support. That’s all.”

“Support my—”

“Noah! You’re being ridiculous.”

This time, he does make contact, and I take his momentum toward the bathroom, keeping him as far from Geneva as possible. The last thing she needs is to get hurt again.

“If I wasn’t injured, I’d knock you out myself,” Geneva seethes as we scuffle. “I’m a grown woman. This is my house. And we’re married.”

“That’s a technicality.”

Using the techniques I learned from Ron—the behemoth of a security guard who works in the ER—I pin Noah’s arms behind his back, pushing him against the bathroom door.

“I’m getting more action from you than I’ve had in months. Can we take it down a notch?”

Noah heaves out a sigh, his right cheek pressed flat. “Fine.”

I wait a few breaths before letting go and stepping back, making sure Geneva is behind me.

It’s not easy for Geneva to cross her arms while leaning on a crutch, but she manages it. I get secondhand shivers from the gelid gaze she sends her brother.

“We are going to have a conversation about this.” Each word is hissed through gritted teeth.

Noah sags against the bathroom door, muttering, “I was just trying to be the good guy. I never get to be the good guy.”

“You’re literally a firefighter who saves lives,” she practically shouts.

“That’s different.” He palms the back of his head, glancing sheepishly at me. “Sorry, man. I might have overreacted.”

“Might have?!”

I place my palm between Geneva’s shoulders to keep her from lurching forward and accidentally hurting her ankle. “Why don’t we all have a cup of coffee?”

“There’s not enough coffee in the world to make up for his shenanigans.” Though her tone hits like a coarse brick to the face, her body softens into my touch.

Noah lifts a shoulder, his grin boyish. “If I shenan once, I’m gonna shenanigan.”

“Out!”

With a huff, Noah tromps down the stairs. Geneva scrubs her fingertips over her forehead with a throaty growl.

“Hey.” I keep my words and my touch soft as I run my palms up and down her arms. “It’s a good thing to have someone so worried about you.”

“Unfoundedly worried. We’re both fully dressed.” Her jaw tightens as she gestures to her striped long-sleeve sleep set and my scrub pants and shirt. “And so what if we had been…canoodling.”

My brows shoot up. “Canoodling?”

“I’m not going to use medical terms, doctor,” she tells me with a glare. “Even if we were…you know. We’re married, and that’s my business.”

“It absolutely is,” I agree, sliding my hands up to gently massage her shoulders.

Geneva tilts her head back, closing her eyes and taking a slow, steadying breath. “Okay, I think I’m ready to not murder my idiot brother now.”

My lips quirk. “Dismemberment before breakfast is generally discouraged.”

“But it’s oh so fun.” My wife’s grin is completely unabashed, lighting her whole face.

It’s impossible not to hold her when she smiles at me like that. The crutch clatters to the floor as I sweep Geneva in my arms. Instead of immediately striding downstairs, I nuzzle the sweet spot beneath her ear, my grin blooming when her breath catches.

“Thanks for last night.”

She snorts. “Like you said, nothing happened.”

I lift my head to catch her gaze, willing to risk it.

Geneva may not have realized the significance of her being emotionally available while I worked through my grief, but I do.

I don’t want her to backtrack and pretend like last night wasn’t monumental.

I’ve seen the way she edges around serious conversations, how she redirects her brother or her friends.

The way she asked about Taylor, the way she was there for me when I needed it most…

“I meant how you supported me.”

“Oh.” She ducks her chin for a beat before her eyes meet mine. “You’re welcome.”

We find Noah grumbling beside a steaming coffee pot, arms crossed. I get Geneva comfortable before placing my now-cold cup of cocoa in the microwave. Our gazes snag before I press 58 on the keypad. The eyeroll I receive makes fizzy energy skip to my toes like a stone over a pond.

“Stop making goo-goo eyes at each other. It’s creeping me out.” Noah pulls down two more mugs, aggressively setting them on the countertop. “Wasn’t this supposed to be a ruse? A fake marriage?”

“Things changed.”

I almost swallow my tongue at Geneva’s resolute words. I’ve been wanting the undeniable spark between us to transform into something real but was afraid to ask if she wanted the same for fear of her shutting me out. But Geneva’s firm posture and no-nonsense glare dares her brother to argue.

“I’m going to be the only single person left on the island,” Noah says, more to himself than to us.

Before I can reassure him, his phone rings in the pocket of his joggers.

“Hey, Mom.” Noah listens for a long while, nodding faintly before glancing at Geneva’s ankle resting atop the seat of my chair. “Yeah, it’s looking better, so I think next Friday will work. I’m actually in her kitchen right now.”

Joanna talks while Noah’s smile turns devious. “Oh, I know she’s not a morning person, but that’s the right of the younger brother. I’ve got to keep her on her toes.”

“Give me the phone.” Geneva outstretches her hand.

Noah slaps it to his chest. “No. It’s mine.”

“Are you two sure you weren’t raised together?” I ask through a chuckle, putting my cocoa back for an additional 22 seconds since it isn’t hot enough.

Joanna murmuring against Noah’s shirt reminds him that he’s still on a call. “Sorry, Mom. Let me put you on speaker.”

Noah sets the phone on the kitchen table before filling a mug to the brim.

“Morning, everyone. I’ve got good news!” Joanna’s chipper voice radiates from the speaker.

“Stacy found us a window to get the ring back. Apparently, he’s taking one of his love interests on a trip next Friday.

They leave in the early evening. Stacy’s oldest has a football game, but after that, she can use her key to enter the house.

We talked about it, and it makes more sense for her to forget something and then need to retrieve it than to clean the house at night.

And with that dirtbag on a plane, Stacy can just text him that she went over to get it, and he won’t even know she was there until he lands. It’s perfect.”

Geneva raises her eyebrows, nodding. “I like that he’ll be out of town. That makes it easier in case something goes wrong.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Joanna agrees. “Will your ankle be okay by then?”

“Yes. I’m sure of it.”

“Great,” she chirps, bringing a tender smile to Geneva’s lips. “Sorry Noah is bugging you.”

“Hey!” Noah says as I add, “He’s actually here for me. We’re about to leave for a run.”

“Oh.” The timbre of Joanna’s voice changes, turning a bit wobbly. “That’s so nice that you all are getting along. All a parent wants is for their children to be happy.”

Geneva looks down at the table. Her murmured, “Not every parent,” is barely audible, and Joanna misses it entirely.

“Okay, I’ll let you go. Love you.”

We all say our various goodbyes before ending the call.

A stagnant hush falls over the room once Joanna’s cheery voice isn’t echoing off the cabinets.

“That’s fortuitous, with the timing,” I say, trying to brighten the mood.

Noah lurches forward, nearly strangling Geneva with his fierce hug. “I want you to be happy too. And if this goofball does that, then I’m glad.”

Surprisingly, Geneva doesn’t shrug out of his grip but settles her hands over his arms, embracing him. “He’s no more of a goofball than you are.”

Warmth ribbons between my ribs at the same time a drop of sorrow splashes over everything.

Seeing Geneva and Noah—sister and brother—hug reminds me of how affectionate Taylor always was with me.

It’s odd having genuine joy for Geneva and my newfound friend while my stomach simultaneously swirls with longing.

After avoiding it for so long, I’m realizing that grief isn’t supposed to make sense. It’s amorphous and tangible at the same time. Sharp and dull. Fond memories and gnawing regret.

Everything all at once.

The deep breath filling my lungs draws Geneva’s attention. A divot forms between her brows before she outstretches her hand to me. Noah notices, grabbing my forearm and dragging me into the embrace.

“Aren’t group hugs the best?” he asks. “I miss a good dogpile.”

Geneva grumbles unintelligibly as a bark of laughter leaves my lips.

My gorgeous wife tolerates the hug for exactly two more seconds before shrugging us off. “Get out of here. Aren’t you two supposed to be running off that puppy energy?”

When I return downstairs with Geneva’s crutch after getting changed, I find her and Noah chatting about some drama from the fire station. Geneva is trying her best not to look interested though I know how much she secretly enjoys gossip.

I drop a kiss on her temple. “Do you need anything before we leave?”

“No.” Her lips purse in annoyance, but it’s all for show. “But when you get back, I have a job for you.”

“A job, huh?” I ask, lifting a suggestive eyebrow.

Noah makes a gagging sound. “Good thing I haven’t eaten breakfast.”

“You’re welcome to leave at any time.” She gives him a saccharine smile. “And never come back.”

Noah pushes off the counter, huffing. “And after defending your honor…”

“Honor that is very much intact,” she quips.

“Okay, you two.” I nudge Noah by the shoulders toward the exit. “Disembowel each other later.”

“Looking forward to it,” Geneva calls sweetly as I open the front door.

Noah quickly switches to talking about his favorite subject—baseball—as soon as we break into a warm-up jog.

I listen, only knowing the cursory rules, since we never had the money for afterschool activities, and being raised by two music-loving women, I never got into professional sports.

You’d be more likely to find me at a Lainey Wilson concert than an MLB game.

As Noah spits out stats like they’re vital signs, I try to follow along, but really my mind can’t stop wondering what Geneva has planned for later.