Wingspan (Westbrook Elite, #2)

by Cambria Hebert

“Not you, Owens. Give me two more laps.” “Why me?” I practically whined. I was fucking tired. “Because you showed up late to practice.” “The hell I did! I was here on time.” “Yeah, well, it sure didn’t look like you in the pool. Two more.”

“Where’s camera girl?” I asked about his girlfriend, Rory. She was into photography, and she always got annoyed when I called her bro. Didn’t know why. It’s totally gender-neutral. So anyway, sometimes I called her camera girl.

Ryan shrugged. “Some girls don’t have taste, bro.” It was the same thing I said to him back then. He didn’t take it too kindly, and now I understood why. And also, I taste so good. I’m everyone’s taste.

“You trying to cockblock me?” I challenged. “The fact you think I’m cockblocking you because I won’t let you call my girl…” I gritted my teeth. “Who is with my girl right now.” Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. “Your girl?” Hell yes, my girl. She was mine from the minute Ryan and I ran into the theater to stop our former Elite bad apple from attacking Rory. Madison also suffered collateral damage by that douche-canoe. And now she was mine. Even if she didn’t know it.

Mads was definitely avoiding me. But… no one said I had to make it easy for her.

Yes, I use a fork to eat pizza. I’m not a savage.

“Even if they are ripped with muscles and have a giant wingspan.” Rory looked amused. “Jamie does have a wide wingspan.” I glanced up. I wasn’t jealous. I was just curious. “You’ve noticed?” Her face screwed up. “Hard not to when all the Elite act like life is clothing-optional.”

If I borrowed it, I would never want to give it back.

Just how big is his wingspan? “Six feet five inches.” The answer rumbled right against my ear. My eyes flew open. I tried to glance around, but he was so tightly wrapped around me it was impossible. “Did I say that out loud?” “Mm.” He agreed. “And all six feet five is yours.”

*swoon*

“Promises might be extreme lies, but pinky swears are legally binding.” “No, they aren’t,” I argued. “Yes, baby. They are.”

“No offense, bro. You’re so small I’d break you.” “Ryan is as big as you are,” she deadpanned. “Not quite,” I quipped, flexing my upper body. “Madison isn’t much bigger than I am.”

Fuck. Just how small was this girl? She couldn’t possibly be as short as camera girl. I thought back to the way she felt tucked against my chest. How I had to lean down to put my chin on her shoulder. She’d been wearing heels then? Fuck. Ryan laughed under his breath, making me look up. “Welcome to the club, bro. You won’t ever get a moment’s peace.”

Did I mention he calls his girl Carrot ‘cause she has orange hair? She swears it’s auburn, but my bro says it’s orange. I mean, he ain’t wrong.

Ryan and I used to be free-range chicken… just roaming around, answering to nobody but ourselves. And now just look at us. Two tiny women trying to run us around. And what were we doing? Feeding them so they had the energy to do it. This was some messed-up shit.

There’d also been that one actress years ago that people still talked about. The next Marilyn Monroe, they called her. She polarized Hollywood the minute she stepped in front of a camera, but her success was cut short when she died tragically. In true American fashion, though, her death only made her more famous.

“If you want me to tell you what’s wrong with me, I’m going to need to see you without those damn heels ‘cause I’m probably going to have to add shit to the list.”

you want me to tell you what’s wrong with me, I’m going to need to see you without those damn heels ‘cause I’m probably going to have to add shit to the list.”

“Give me some sugar too.” “No!” He sighed forlornly, and I reached for the drink again. This time, he held it up out of reach. “Hey!” “Take your heels off.” “You can’t be serious.” “As a heart attack.” I glanced up at the coffee. “It’s going to be cold.” “Better hurry, then.” This was so stupid. “I ought to throw this shoe at you,” I told him as I reached down to pull off the heeled boot. “But then I’d spill your coffee.” “I’ll drink yours.” “I’d give it to you.”

He groaned. “Dammit. You’re a shrimp too.” The audacity! I started to tell him exactly what he could do with himself, but he thrust the coffee into my hand. “Eek,” I squeaked when his large hands slid under my arms and lifted. My shoeless feet left the stage easily as he held me up and out, lips pursed. “You’re too small.”

“It’s okay, Maddie baby.” He soothed, the pad of his thumb caressing my chin. “If you aren’t ready for me, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

“Because even when you aren’t mine, you’re mine. I have no idea how it happened, but you own me, Madison Hartley, and nothing is going to change it. And if I can’t smother you in my wingspan”—he paused to flash me a smile that literally made my knees weak—“then at least let me protect you with my name.”

Size did not matter because if it truly did, there was no way someone the size of a mouse could overtake me with one brush of her lips. The constant itch not even sex could erase evaporated as if it hadn’t even been there. I understood wholeheartedly in that first second of our very first kiss that nothing would ever satisfy me again unless it was her. Her and only her. An instinct deep inside me knew the second we met, and now the rest of me knew it as well.

The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Yeah, in love, size doesn’t matter. In love, even the widest of wingspans could be tamed by the smallest of hands.

Amused as shit, I smiled. “There’s silverware in the bag.” “Maybe I like to eat with my hands.” The sass was strong with this one. But it was strong with me too. “This coming from the woman who eats pizza with a fork.”

I’d never had to go at someone else’s pace before. Hell, usually, I just grabbed their hand and took off.

Well, it seems telling me things she liked might be an issue, but things she didn’t like? Freaking open season up in here.

“No one is gonna hurt you. They’re gonna have to get through me first, and I’m mean.”

“I’m gonna keep on texting, and one of these days, you’re gonna text back.” “Don’t hold your breath.” “Oh, baby,” I murmured shifting a little closer, getting one hell of a rush from the way she shivered. “I’m a swimmer. Oxygen is already optional for me.”

“Who are we talking about?” Ryan’s brows drew down in confusion. I made a rude sound. “The ass-hamper playing in Romeo and Juliet with her.” “Seriously, what is an ass-hamper?” Madison wondered. “People you don’t hand out your number to,” I quipped.

“Just so we’re clear, I can’t help my giant status any more than you can help your shrimp one.”

“Nah, he was with some girls. Chasing after a leaf blowing around.” Her eyes narrowed. “Some girls?” I smirked. “You jealous, Mads?” “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.” “I wouldn’t have to if someone else around here did it.”

“Your heart is safe with me, Mads. I swear it.”

“Hold on tight, baby.” “Baby?” one of the girls echoed. “You all met my girl, Madison?” Mads sucked in a quiet breath but said nothing. Wide eyes bounced between us. “No,” one of them replied slowly. “Now ya have,” I declared, spinning around to head to the booth. “You never call me bro.” Madison spoke in my ear. “Nope, and I never will. Just like I’ll never call any of them baby.”

Wes slid a plate with a waffle drenched in butter and syrup in my direction. “This one is yours,” he said. There was a bite taken out of it. Leaning around Mads, I pinned camera girl with a look. “You do this?” “Me!” She huffed indignantly. “Why me?” “Because it looks like a mouse took a bite out of this. Shameful really. If any of my other bros did this, at least half would be gone.” Ryan laughed. While Rory sputtered, Madison unwrapped some silverware, took a fork, and started cutting into the side of my waffle. “You eating my food now too?” I accused. She held the bite up to my lips. “Eat this. You’re hangry.”

When I pulled back, her hand caught my wrist. “Jamie?” “What, sweetheart?” Her eyes filled with tears. “I feel safe with you.” Making a sound, I leaned the rest of the way back into the Jeep and pressed my lips to her forehead. “That’s because you are.” As I walked around the front of the Wrangler, I let some of the black mood swelling inside me escape. Madison was definitely safe with me. But the people who hurt her? I’d send them all straight to hell.

My eyes drifted shut, and I curled farther into his warmth, soaking up everything he was. The reprieve his presence offered felt so selfless and natural that it made me think perhaps falling in love with Jamie wasn’t even a matter of can’t or won’t. It was inevitable.

“Here,” he said, draping the T-shirt over my front. It reminded me of the night I slept in his bed with him on the floor and how, the next morning, he thought I was gone and pulled all the covers off me. I complained about being cold, and he stripped the shirt right off his body. “Body heat works faster,” he’d said.

“Bro, where are you?” I took another huge bite before answering. “Parking lot of Hamlet Hall.” He grunted. “She refused to come here?” “Yep.” He laughed. “I think she might be just as stubborn as Carrot.” Pretty sure Mads was worse, but I wasn’t about to get into a pissing contest with my bro about whose woman was more of a handful. Fact was all of them were work.

Then I made it my screensaver. Maybe I was whipped. Don’t @ me, bro. You’d make that pic your screensaver too, but you can’t. Know why? Because that pic is mine.

“Players play games, and I can assure you”—he leaned closer—“you are not a game to me.” Well, it was a good thing this wasn’t a game. Because if it was? I would have lost.

“Some sugar might be helpful,” the male paramedic said as he packed up some of his equipment. All of us looked at Wes, who made a rude noise. “Why is everyone looking at me?” “You got us coffee last time.” Rory reminded him. My already dark mood blackened. “The fact there was even a last time…” I rumbled.

“Thank you, Wes.” Max stepped up beside Wes, his eyes going straight to her. “I’m the one that got it,” he grumped. “Thank you, Max.” He grunted. “Thanks, bro. Appreciate it,” I told him. His gaze hardened when it lifted to me. “I’m not your bro.” “You brought my girl coffee when she needed it. We’re bros now.” “You could call off your watchdogs and just give us your number,” Ryan mused. “We could just call you next time. It’s probably cheaper that way.” Max rolled his eyes and turned to Wes. “You okay?” “Don’t I look okay?” “You need to stop hanging out with these people. They’re bad news.” “They’re my friends,” Wes deadpanned.

Mads protested when I set her in the Jeep, clinging to my shirt and then frowning when she had a hard time getting a handful. “What kind of shirt is that?” she asked, disgruntled. It was cute as hell. “It’s a compression shirt.” “Oh. Why are you wearing that?” “Sore muscles.” She gasped. I pulled back, and she patted my chest and arms like she was searching for injury. “Are you hurt? What happened? Oh, was practice bad?”

“You did real good tonight, sweetheart. Real good.” Her lashes fluttered, revealing a question in her eyes. “What?” “You protected yourself and screamed for help. Then you called me.” “I don’t really remember that.” “Don’t have to because you did it. You stayed coherent long enough to call me. I’m fucking proud of you.” “I should be offended you praise me like this.” “But you aren’t,” I observed. Her head shook against the seat. “No,” she whispered. “I guess I like it when you’re proud of me.” My stomach somersaulted. This woman. She owned me. “Thank you for calling me, Maddie baby. You have no idea what that means to me.” “Thanks for coming for me, J.”

“I never should have borrowed it,” I murmured to myself. “Borrowed what, baby?” he asked. “Your wingspan.” He made a sound, reaching for the hem of the hoodie. “You can’t borrow something that’s already yours.” “What if I never give it back?” I asked. Grasping with gentle fingers, he pushed my face up so I had to look at him. “What if I don’t want it back?”

My heart somersaulted beneath my ribs, and I pressed a hand against my chest. I stood there unmoving but irrevocably shaken as I stared at the image filling the screen. Me. A stupid selfie I’d sent in a moment of weakness when I’d been wearing his shirt when what I really wanted was his arms. He saved it. He made it his background. He looked at it every time he opened his phone. The wall I’d built around my heart over an entire lifetime? The one he managed to crack? It crumbled, and I stood there raw and exposed.

I love him. The realization was overwhelming, all-encompassing… undeniable.

“I tried so hard not to love you, J. But I couldn’t even reason with my own logic or rationalize with my heart. Somehow, by being the things I swore I’d never fall prey to, you taught me about intent. A man can be bossy without trying to control. You can be possessive without being selfish. You can use your size to offer safety and not pain.”

“There will never be a day—a moment—when I don’t want you. I would wait a thousand years for you because every single second is worth the wait.”

“I am gonna love you so good. I won’t hurt you. I’d rather die.” “No.” She freaked, hands tangling in my hair to yank my head back. “Ow!” I howled. “I tell you I won’t hurt you, and you yank out my hair.” “No dying.” Her voice was fervent. “Don’t ever say that. Don’t even think about leaving me like that.”