Fangirl Down (Big Shots, #1)

“Wells?”

He didn’t move. Not right away. He simply continued to stare at her, chest heaving, the door behind him hanging off its hinges.

Finally, he held up his phone and pointed at it. “No dots.”

“What?”

He struggled through a swallow, his voice little more than a scrape. “There was an urgent low and then you just . . . went off the fucking map.” His breath sounded more like a wheeze. “And you wouldn’t answer your phone, Josephine. I thought . . . I thought you . . .”

At once, the situation clicked, the remaining sleep cobwebs dissipating.

The blood drained from her face.

“Oh Wells, I’m sorry.” Slowly, she stood. “I should have explained this to you.”

He dropped his phone with a loud bang, but didn’t seem to notice he’d done so.

“I had to change the sensor. It takes a while to warm up and connect again with the app, so . . . there is no number for a while.” He looked so shaken up, she was almost afraid to approach him. “It might have looked like I was crashing, but I was fine. I’m totally fine.”

Wells doubled over, hands propped on his knees, sides puffing in and out.

“I’m sorry,” she said, a chasm opening in the center of her chest. “I’m sorry that freaked you out. I fell asleep and my phone must have been silenced.”

“Okay.” He took several long, uneven breaths. “Just . . . let me get myself together.”

“Okay.” She shifted on her bare feet. “Would a hug help—”

“Yes,” Wells rasped, barreling toward her like a cruise missile. Josephine was scooped off the floor and enveloped in a bear hug that was so fierce, it made her eyes water. Wells buried his face in her neck and breathed deeply, gathering Josephine closer, closer, like he was trying to absorb her. “You and me not being together all the time is fucking stupid, Josephine,” he roared.

“You’re shouting in my ear.”

No apology was forthcoming. Not from this man.

And honestly, Josephine didn’t really need one. The way he was holding her like he was on the verge of breaking said more than words ever could. That was Wells, wasn’t it?

No sweet nothings. Only actions.

Josephine stared over his shoulder at the brutalized door, piling more and more facts together. “Did you drive all the way here from Miami?”

“I’d have driven to the ends of the Earth, belle.”

Oh wow.

Moisture washed into her eyes.

Hold that thought about sweet nothings—

“That’s probably how long it would have taken you to simply return my call. Christ.”

She started to laugh.

Holy cow, she’d missed him more than she realized. Like a hundred times more.

“Don’t you dare laugh. I’ve been through hell. That was the worst hour of my life.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, sighing when he lifted her more securely against his chest, her feet leaving the floor. “I know. I’m sorry.” Discreetly, she inhaled his neck, letting the combination of soap and sweat seep into her skin. “You’re still paying for my door. Did you even knock?”

“Nope.”

Wells walked them over to the couch and turned, sitting down heavily. And because of the way they’d been standing, she had no choice but to wrap her thighs around his hips, straddling him on the couch, her face smooshed in his neck.

Right. No choice at all.

“Listen, belle,” he started a few seconds later, his palm stroking down the back of her head, still shaking slightly. “I remember what you told me. About your parents making a fuss about diabetes and how it reminds you there’s something to fear. I know you can take care of yourself. This just threw me, okay? I didn’t know what was happening.”

“I understand.”

“I won’t lose my shit next time.” He paused to let out a jagged breath. “But you should still answer your goddamn phone.”

She nuzzled her smiling face farther into his neck.

“Because I don’t wear matching outfits for just anyone, Josephine. I don’t wear them for anyone but . . .” He jerked a shoulder. “You know who.”

“Me.”

A gruff grunt was his response. “Your dad didn’t even answer my call,” he said after a moment, sounding stunned.

“Oh? Were you calling him to ask more intrusive questions about me?”

Wells cursed. “I knew the old man wouldn’t keep quiet.”

She laid her cheek on his warm shoulder, almost moaning over the way his palm rode up and down her spine. The loneliness inside her had fled as soon as they were touching, and slowly it was replaced with relief, security, a sense of balance, and peace. Even if their default method of communication was bickering. “You wanted to know my birthday, I understand.”

“That’s right. It’s the Wednesday we fly to California. I already have a present.”

“No, you don’t,” she scoffed, lifting her head to make eye contact—

And caught the tail end of pure, undiluted affection before he hid it away.

“You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” he said curtly, brushing Josephine’s hair back from her face. His attention fell to her mouth, before he dragged it away. “Jesus, I can barely feel my arms. I think my adrenaline is crashing.”

“Do you want to”—she sniffed him—“take a shower? Maybe it’ll help with the nerves.”

“Flattering as ever, belle,” he griped. “I was mid-workout, you know.”

“I’m sorry for interrupting.”

He stood up, seemingly unfazed by a full-grown woman clinging to the front of his body. “You don’t sound very sorry,” he remarked. Was his voice deepening? “At all.”

She dropped her legs from around his waist, patting his wrist to let him know he was still holding her in a death grip.

She had no idea what was going to happen between herself and Wells. After all, she still had the same concerns as the last time they were together.

Yet no matter what happened, Wells would always be the first person to crack the code to Josephine’s safe. He was kind of an asshole, but in a way that made her feel . . . like an equal member of a team. People had shied away from challenging Josephine too much her whole life, no matter how often she proved herself capable or fought against the notion that she was weak. At the same time, she knew if she needed to lean on him, he’d hold her up without making a big deal out of it.

Kicking in the door didn’t count—not knowing that she would suddenly go offline had been a legitimate reason for concern. He’d recovered and started giving her shit about it as soon as possible, too, which was weirdly . . . perfect.

“Wells.”

Finally, he released her and turned for the hallway, assuming the correct way to the bathroom. “Yeah?”

“I’m glad I trusted you to follow me on the app.”

For the briefest second, he couldn’t quite disguise his vulnerability. It was fleeting, but potent. “Even after I kicked in your door?”

“Especially after you kicked in my door. You . . .” She searched for the right words, because the moment called for them. “You make me feel capable and healthy. But still like there’s someone who has my back. That’s not an easy balance and you somehow . . . know how to navigate it. Without me having to guide you. It’s hard and you just . . . do it.”

Visibly caught off guard, he opened his mouth, then closed it. “If you’re trying to butter me up for matching pink outfits, you can forget it right now.”

“Not even a soft pastel? Easter is coming up!”

He stomped away from her down the hall and slammed the bathroom door.

Wow. It had been a long time since her face hurt from smiling. She hadn’t had that problem since the last time she’d seen Tallulah.

When the shower water started running, however, her smile started to vanish little by little, followed by a punctuated swallow. Her palms grew clammy, thighs tensing at the sight of shadows moving beneath the door.

Wells was getting naked.

In her bathroom.