Only When It's Us (Bergman Brothers #1)(81)

Willa makes a small, pained noise. “What the hell, Ryder?”

Her eyes roam my face as she leans toward me and bites that dangerous bee-stung lip. When her eyes lock with mine, I drag my thumb along her mouth’s soft fullness, tugging it free from her teeth.

Her eyes sparkle with what looks weirdly like tears. “The squirrel tail’s gone. You’re even beautifuller.”

I laugh and roll my eyes. “Shut up, Sutter.”

“No, I’m…” She groans, as her forehead hits my chest. “Oh, dear.”

“We had a whole Beauty and the Beast thing going. I had to make sure you liked me for my stunning personality, not my mom’s cheekbones.”

“Cheese,” she mutters. “I could totally slice some Swiss on those puppies.”

It makes me laugh again. I haven’t laughed for months. Dipping my head until my mouth is close to her ear, I whisper, “Can I hug you?”

Willa nods against my chest, followed by a sniffle. Stepping closer, I wrap my arms tight around her shoulders and squeeze until she’s flush against me, until I can feel her heart beating against my chest. God, it feels so good to hold her like this. She smells like sunscreen and fresh air and flowers and I want to kiss her so badly, I can barely think about anything else.

Her hands creep tentatively around my waist and then lock at my back. “I missed you,” she whispers.

I press a kiss to her hair, one hand slowly rubbing between her shoulder blades. “I missed you, too.”

“I’m sorry I disappeared,” she mumbles into my chest. “My reasons for shutting everyone out felt undeniably necessary at the time, but my grief counselor has since explained that while understandable, it wasn’t the healthiest choice I’ve made.”

“You took the time you needed, Willa. I was always going to be here waiting.”

She nods and sniffles again. “I know. I knew that. And that meant…a lot. Thanks for all the food, too. And the back rub. And playing with my hair like Mama—” Her voice catches.

“She did that for you?”

Willa nods. “She also whistled at my games, like you have.”

“How did you know that was me?”

Setting her chin on my chest, Willa peers up. “You were the asshole lumberjack wearing an unmistakable flannel plaid shirt, whistling so loud, they heard you in Orange County. When I caught that sound, I knew rationally that Mama wasn’t there, but it felt like she was. You made her feel close.”

Willa’s eyes search mine curiously. “Maybe you remind me of her a little. Is that weird?”

My heart aches. I knew Joy Sutter only a few insufficient weeks, and I miss her so much. I have no idea how much Willa’s hurting, or how hard it must be to talk about her. I only know it’s the highest compliment from Willa, to be told I remind her of her mother.

I rub her back some more and smile down at her. “It’s not weird. We had a few things in common. Excellent whistlers. Blunt delivery. Impervious to your bullshit.” My fingers slide through her untamed hair. “A deep appreciation of your crazy hair and your weird metaphors and the bizarre things that come out of your mouth.”

Willa leans and bites softly into my shirt. It sends a shudder through my body, as I tighten my grip on her back. “Behave yourself.”

She smiles. “Now why would I start doing that, Mountain Man? You like me just the way I am.”





Things aren’t easy overnight, but Willa doesn’t disappear anymore, and she answers my texts. A few nights later, she agrees to have dinner with me, so long as the boys and Rooney are there too. She’s still putting up every possible barrier between it being just the two of us, for as long as she can manage it.

I understand why. Everything she said at Christmas still stands. She’s heading out of this place with the soccer world to take by storm, and as far as she knows, I’ll be teaching canoe lessons in The Middle of Nowhere, Washington. Her heart’s still tender, too. She’s grieving. She’s going to be grieving for a long time.

Right now, she needs a friend. I might be a friend who’s about to die with the need to be more, but I’m her friend nonetheless. Or, more accurately, back in old, familiar territory: her frenemy.

“What the hell do you call this?”

I glance over my shoulder. Willa’s poking the guacamole I made with a disdainful look on her face.

“It’s guac, Sunshine. You need glasses or something?”

“I’m aware it’s guacamole, Brawny. Or it was until you threw mango into it.” She tosses down the mixing spoon in disgust. “What the fuck?”

“There’s something wrong with you. Everybody loves jazzed-up guac.”

“This here woman does not. Tucker? Becks? Rooney?”

Tucker and Rooney are playing FIFA on the Nintendo. Becks stares at their game. None of them answer her. Willa turns to me and shrugs. “Kids these days. Addicted to the tube.”

I have one of those moments that’s becoming harder to tamp down—the fierce urge to heft her by her fantastic ass, wrap her thighs around me and kiss her senseless.

Willa’s gaze flicks between my mouth and my eyes. “You look hungry.”

“I am.”

She swallows loudly. “O-okay. Well, tacos are pretty much ready. We can eat.”