Coast (Kick Push Book 2) (The Road 3) (23 page)

Becca:
You are.

Josh:
I’m not really in the mood to start an argument I’m not gonna win.

Becca:
Okay.

*     *     *

It’s not that
I want Becca out of my system. I just don’t want her to infiltrate it. Which she has, and everyone’s noticed. Even Ry. “Twenty-one days,” he keeps telling me. So I try his stupid theory. Twenty-one days of no Becca.

I make it three.

The thing about Becca is simple. She’s like walking into a warm house when you’ve been out in the cold. You don’t realize how good it feels until you’re surrounded by it. And when you head back out you know, in the back of your mind, that the warmth is still there and you crave it and miss it and want nothing more that to be enveloped by it. And yeah, I’m sure if you spend twenty-one long-ass empty days in the cold, your body, your mind, grows accustomed to it just like I’d been in the year Becca and I spent apart. But then she showed up just outside the Globe tour bus and I was reminded of the warmth, the comfort, and the longing kicked in and I wanted it. No. I
needed
it. Needed
her
. And so I stand on the balcony of some random hotel in Florida and take a picture of the night sky, moon out, stars surrounding it. I send it to her, along with the words:

Josh:
You know that really cheesy thing people do when they’re apart? They tell the other person to look at the stars and know that wherever they are, they’re looking at the same ones?

Becca:
Yeah? You want me to do that?

Josh:
No. I want you to look at the stars and realize that there’s a whole universe out there, and this world you and I live in is so tiny in comparison. But there’s nothing—not a damn thing in the entire universe you could possibly ever say or do that would make me mad at you, Becs. I’m sorry if I made you think that.

An eternity passes before I get a reply.

Becca:
Why have you been AWOL?

Josh:
Because I’ve been in denial.

Becca:
About?

Josh:
About my feelings for you.

She replies with a picture of the night sky from her view.

Becca:
There could be an entire universe out there, and you’re right, we may be small in comparison. But what if you and Tommy make up the majority of my world? Does it really matter what else is out there?

*     *     *

Josh:
Any update on tomorrow?

Becca:
I’m really going to try. I’m going to pull an all-nighter and make some calls to see if there’s anyone who can cover my shifts but it’s not looking good. I’m so sorry, Josh.

Josh:
Just let me know either way, okay?

Becca:
I promise.

*     *     *

I smile, nod,
and make small talk with the fans, signing whatever they need while sitting at a table in the back of a new Check and Deck store in downtown Portland. At least that’s where I am physically. Mentally, though? I’m nowhere.

Becca’s plane should’ve taken off ten minutes ago with her hopefully on it. I haven’t heard from her since we texted last night and I didn’t want to push her. So instead, I’m sitting here going out of my mind waiting for the news.

I pick up my phone, the ringer set to loud so I don’t miss anything and hope for some kind of miracle.

“Still nothing?” Nico, my teammate, asks. He’s been with me the longest. Chris found him on YouTube skating in some abandoned warehouse in Puerto Rico. He set Nico and his family up in some mansion in California, the same area as Reece and Ry. So while they’re all out there, I’m in North Carolina, and Becca’s in St. Louis. Makes total sense, right?

As if right on cue, my phone alerts me to a message and I almost jump to read it.

Becca:
I’m so sorry.

—Becca—

Seriously, I could
watch Josh Warden forever. Even from outside the store, peeking through the window in between the gaps of the displays, it’s enough to satisfy my longing. He signs whatever is placed in front of him and smiles at his fans and female admirers. Okay, that last one I’m not too thrilled about, but whatever. It’s still Josh and I’m still close enough that I could smell him. Not that I am. That would be weird. The point is I’m here… he just doesn’t know it yet.

The air conditioning
pricks my skin when I step inside the store and my luggage gets caught in the doorway. I struggle aimlessly, my cheeks warming as I make a fool of myself. “I got it,” someone says, holding the door open long enough for me to pull through my bag. I smile, thankful, only to realize it’s Chris. “You finally made it,” he says, pointing to someone who takes my suitcase and disappears. Chris leans in closer. “Does he know you’re here?”

Chris had been the one to contact me a couple weeks ago, not knowing Josh had already invited me to Portland. But Chris’s invite came with a private plane and an extra four hours with Josh. I’d be stupid to say no, so I agreed, on the condition that we surprise Josh with it.

I shake my head and look over at Josh, my heart racing at the sight. He smiles at the two girls in front of him, but it’s neither genuine nor forced. It’s definitely not the way he smiles at Tommy, or at me, and that realization sets off something deep inside me. He quickly moves on to the next person in the line—a younger kid. He signs a board, a magazine, a shirt and the back of a phone, all with the same smile on his face, and
gosh
, he’s beautiful.

Chris places something around my neck, pulling me from my daze, and I look down to see a lanyard with the tag:
Becca (Warden).

Becca Parentheses Warden.

Becca
Warden
.

If I were ten, that name would be scribbled all over my notebook.

“You ready?” Chris asks.

After a nod from me, he leads me through the crowd with his hand on the small of my back while my heart picks up pace. We stop at the side of the table, where Josh is in the middle of talking to a fan. He glances up quickly when he feels our presence, but quickly goes back to the kid in front of him. He picks up a pen and starts signing the board, but he pauses halfway through, his eyes narrowing.

Then he looks up. Up. UP.

This time, nothing stops. Nothing. Not even him. His chair tips backward, his table forward, and the next thing I know, I’m wrapped tightly in his arms, my feet barely touching the floor, while the world falls away around me.

—Joshua—

warmth

wɔːmθ/

noun

1. the quality, state, or sensation of being warm; moderate heat.

2. enthusiasm, affection, or kindness.

3. Becca

I
’ve done a
lot of difficult things in my life. Raising Tommy on my own was one them. So is trying to balance my work with being a dad. But, sitting next to Becca for two hours, her scent invading my nostrils, driving me wild, and feeling her warmth next to me while wanting to throw her down on the table and make out with her face (What? She’s hot!), and not being able to do so is pretty high up on the list. So is not punching every fan that looks twice at her. Occasionally, the roles get reversed and it’s a girl on the other side of the table. Some want shirts and posters signed, a few want body parts. That’s when I really feel Becca’s warmth—like lasers shooting from her eyes and into the side of my head. Kind of adorable, kind of hot, but mainly funny. Besides, she messed with my mind—told me she wouldn’t be here—and now I get to enjoy messing with hers.

I sign what’s
in front of me: boards, shoes, stomachs, cleavage. Whatever. And take pictures with whoever wants them. Time ticks by slowly. So damn slowly I fight the urge to fake a sickness and leave with Becca. Go back to the hotel and you know…
talk.

*     *     *

Stepping out through
the storeroom doors and into the alley is like breathing in fresh, cool air for the first time in days. I take Becca’s hand and pull her into me until there’s no space between us and I hold her. Memorize her. Find and lose myself in her. “I missed you,” I tell her, squeezing her tighter.

She laughs. I don’t hear it, but I feel her shoulders bounce and her breaths warming my chest. Too soon, the door opens and my teammates join me. I introduce them to Becca just as the limo pulls up. Becca hops in first, and I follow, sitting closely next to her. I rest my arm behind her, and that’s all I do because anything more could possibly get me arrested.

“So we finally get to meet My Becca,” Nico says once the car’s in motion.

Becca looks up at me, her brow bunched. “My Becca?” she mouths.

I shrug. “Tommy talks a lot.”

“My neck’s all stiff,” Reece says, rubbing the back of his neck and tilting his head from side to side. “Or maybe it’s just all the sexual tension in this car.”

Ry attempts to stifle his laugh while I kick Reece’s leg. He feigns hurt and points to Chris. “You see that? Write him up a warning!”

“Idiot,” I murmur.

But Reece just leans forward, his eyes focused on Becca. “You’re a lot hotter in person, My Becca.”

I kick his leg again.

“Chris!” he shouts. “Josh kicked me!”

“You started it,” I mumble.

Chris sighs. “Settle down, children.”

*     *     *