But Frieda is not shamed in the least. She pats Will’s rock hard abs, still hidden behind his shirt and apron, before sauntering away. Ginny flees shortly afterwards.
“You’re evil,” I tell him, but he knows I’m joking.
“Bullocks. I am the epitome of angelic fortitude. Besides, they clearly don’t know Dad. He wakes at the drop of a pin. Any shagging we’d ever do would have to be out of the house. I’m extremely loud when aroused, and I have a feeling you are, too. Some things just cannot be helped. Dad could never sleep through us.”
I hush him, mortified. Frieda is at the end of the counter, taking an order while slyly watching us. I’m positive she just heard every word he said, as did much of the Moose’s clientele in our vicinity. “Seriously. You’re oiling the gossip machine.”
He chuckles. “Perhaps I am a wee bit evil after all. But it’s hard to resist. She’s utterly tenacious with this insanity.”
Most girls might be insulted, not to mention disheartened, if an extremely hot and charismatic guy chose to describe the thought of them being a couple as insanity, but I’m not most girls. Every time he reaffirms what I already know, that we’re family and the closest of friends, sweet relief washes over me. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to push Will away, if his feelings toward me were to change.
I poke at his chest with a spoon. “Try.”
His laughter is positively charming beyond words. “For you, I will try. No guarantees, though.”
“Man, can you believe what’s going on in Tibet?”
My head whips around to find a man seated at the counter, holding his smartphone out to the woman he’s with. “So, crazy,” she murmurs. “I cannot believe the riots going on over the occupation. It’s like that part of the world has gone mad.”
Suddenly, it’s hard to stand, thanks to my knees giving out. Will grabs me before I fall. His eyes are filled with worry. “Are you okay?”
I nod my head, gripping the counter behind us. I silently curse myself for once more not being able to get myself under control. Anytime I hear about something like this, where emotions are high, a flood of memories threatens to pull me under.
Because I have a pretty good notion as to why Tibet is in chaos.
An acrid taste fills my mouth as I consider how Jonah must have been so close to Nepal, where he’s always wanted to go—claiming it’d be good for his soul—only to end up doing something I know must be salt against the wounds such actions cause his conscience. And I can’t help but wish I were there with him, reminding him how good of a person he is, how he’s helped more people in the last year and a half than hurt, and that it’ll be okay.
But I’m not. He’s in Annar, and I’m in Alaska, and it’d been my choice to leave. I left my fiancé, hoping to give him a chance at a better life. I can only hope somebody is there helping him get through this, even if it’s his ex-girlfriend Callie Lotus.
And that thought there crushes me, not to mention makes me want to destroy the entire diner.
I force myself to calm down. To focus. I cannot let my grief control me like this.
“Zoe. Talk to me,” Will says quietly. His fingers brush against my cheek. When he pulls his hand back, I marvel at the wetness reflecting on his skin.
I’m crying, and I didn’t even know it. It pisses me off that I let myself get this far in public.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, but whom am I kidding? My heart has been gone for months now. How can anyone be fine when there’s a cavity in her chest?
“Let’s play Tell Me,” Will says as he cooks me dinner later that night. It’s a game we’ve been playing since the day I decided to let him in. Tell me a secret. Tell me the truth. Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else before. Tell Me has been both a challenge and a relief for a girl with too many secrets.
“Alright.” I sit down and butter the pancakes he’s set out for me. Cameron is at work, managing a large warehouse down in the port, leaving us to fend for ourselves. “Shall I go first?”
His shaggy, sandy hair goes flying as he shakes his head. “Tell me what made you cry today. I’ve never seen you cry, Zo. I’ll admit it’s got me worried.”
I focus on pouring syrup rather than the concern that surely shows on his handsome face, struggling to find some kind of truth to tell him. Finally, carefully yet purposefully nonchalantly, “I’d overhead somebody talking about what’s going on in Tibet.”
He’s silent for so long I eventually look up, only to find him staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“It’s a horrible situation,” I add quietly.
That snaps him back into form. “No—right. Of course. It’s awful, no doubt. But, Zo—you were crying. Was it—”