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ereardon · 2 years ago

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Friends Don't || Chapter 6

Summary: Bob Floyd has been your best friend for almost a decade, ever since he quietly agreed to tutor you in college. The two of you have spent years chasing each other around the globe – Bob as a WSO, you as a travel blogger. You’ve always been the anywhere-but-here girl, and he’s been your rock. But when a surprise diagnosis threatens to crumble your picture-perfect life, you’re on the first flight back to San Diego, desperate to put down roots for the first time. Will Bob finally have it in him to admit that you could be the love of his life? What will he say when he finds out the secret you’ve been skillfully hiding from him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t find out until it’s too late?

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid]

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, angst, mention of doctors and illness, fighting, hospitals, OBGYN scene

WC: 3.4K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

By the time you were nine, you had met so many “friends” of your mother’s that you stopped listening to their names, if they even bothered to acknowledge you at all. Somehow they all showed up in various stages of dress in the kitchen when you were eating your breakfast before school. There were the ones that wore only tattered boxers and wife beater tanks. There was the one who actually stole the toast you were making on his way out the door. There was the one who sat down with you and did the crossword and asked how old you were and what your name was, only to never be seen again.

Mostly, they were simply ghosts. There for a moment, gone the next. That was how your mother liked them. Practically useless and only for one night.

You told yourself that you wouldn’t turn out like her. You studied and you left that tiny slice of hell in Appalachia and you never looked back. You went to college. You met Bob. You got a job. You traveled anywhere and everywhere they would send you at the drop of a hat.

And yet, somehow you had turned out just like her. You might be sitting in a bedroom in San Diego near the beach. But a thousand miles away, in a house with a cracked roof, your mother was sitting in a room not too dissimilar from the one you were in, fighting the same demons.

You had promised yourself you wouldn’t live the way she did. That you wouldn’t sabotage any chance of happiness because you were too scared to keep someone around long enough for them to realize you had nothing to offer except your body.

***

You weren’t sure where to go.

You had given up your Brooklyn apartment. Going home wasn’t an option. You hadn’t been back there in more than five years.

Usually, when you weren’t sure where to go, the first thing you did was call Bob.

That was no longer an option.

He left two days after the fight for a three week mission. The two of you stood in the foyer, looking at each other. You had only been there for one deployment, early in his career. You remember sitting on the steps of Bob’s Newport apartment and crying so hard when he left that someone shouted at you from an upstairs window to shut up.

Bob was wearing his green flight suit, his bags packed into his truck. He had on a pair of aviator sunglasses, so you couldn’t see his familiar blue eyes. But even without being able to see his eyes, you knew what he was thinking. With Bob, you always knew.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” Bob said quietly, one hand on the door handle.

You looked at him. “I won’t be here.”

“Honey,” he whispered softly. “Please, let’s not be like this.”

“Be safe,” you said, stepping forward, pressing your lips to his soft, familiar cheek. Bob’s hand found your waist naturally, fingers tightening, continuing to hold you even when you pulled back.

“Always,” he murmured.

You took a step back, Bob’s hand falling from your waist down to his side.

He looked at you, dejected. “I love you, Reid. I’ll talk to you soon, OK?”

You nodded. “You should get going. Or else the boat might leave without you.”

Bob pulled open the door, giving you one last look, before heading out down the steps toward his truck.

You pressed the door shut, sliding down against the wood, your butt slamming down onto the floor. You couldn’t bear to watch him drive away.

***

“It’s a good thing you’re getting this checked out,” the doctor said, rolling on her stool to the shelf on her right, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Always better to be safe.”

You laid back on the exam table, bare legs shaky in the stirrups.

“Can you scoot down for me please?” she asked and you wiggled down toward the end of the table, feeling the thin waxy paper beneath you tugging, threatening to rip. “Perfect.”

You stopped, feeling the air hit your exposed center.

“Going to feel a pinch,” she said and you closed your eyes, feeling the metal of the speculum as it spread you open. You cursed whoever invented it in your head silently. You had always thought it looked like some kind of demonic shoe stretcher.

For a few moments, the room was silent. And then there was blinding, searing pain as she punched a hole in your literal cervix. You gasped.

“OK, you can sit up,” she said. “I’m going to send this off to pathology. I’ll give you a call when the test results come in.” The doctor leaned forward, putting her hand on yours. Somehow in between cutting out a piece of your internal flesh and bagging it for the lab she had managed to peel off her soiled gloves. “Do your best not to worry, OK? Not until we get the results. Most of the time, symptoms like this are nothing to be concerned about.”

You nodded and she left the room, leaving you to dig your panties out from the pile of clothing on the chair.

A week later, your phone rang. You were sitting at a cafe in Dumbo when Mount Sinai’s contact flashed on the small screen.

You lifted the phone to your ear. “Hello?”

“Ms. Coleman?” There was a pause on the other end of the line. “The doctor was hoping you could come in today to discuss the results of your biopsy.”

You frowned. “Today? Is that bad?”

There was another pause. “We’re open until six. It’s important that you come today.”

You agreed, ending the call with a shaky hand and putting the phone face-down on the wooden table.

The first thing that popped into your head was how devastated Bob was going to be when you told him.

***

The house was quiet. Bradley called three times. Once when they first got to the location, which he couldn’t tell you about. A second time at the end of the first week. A third time in the middle of the second week. Each time, he gave you a verbal update on how Bob was doing.

Each time, you left the call feeling worse.

Your things were packed. You had a lead from a former colleague on a beach house in Santa Barbara. One thing about moving to San Diego was it had reminded you of how much you liked California.

You had just gotten home from pilates, wearing a cropped sports bra and a pair of matching biker shorts when your phone rang. You dug around in your purse that sat slumped on the countertop.

“Shit, shit,” you muttered, digging in the endless depths of the bag. “Finally.” You pulled it out and swiped right without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Reid?” It was Bradley.

“Hey,” you said, leaning down and putting it on speaker phone as you unloaded the bag of groceries on the counter. “How’s it going?”

“Reid, honey, there’s been an accident.”

You froze. The blood rushing through your veins stopped. Your fingers dug into the countertop, keeping you standing.

“Reid, are you there?”

You felt your breath catch in your throat. “I’m here.”

“We’re at the hospital on base,” Bradley said quietly. “You should come.”

A tear slid down your cheek. “Can I talk to him?”

“I’ll explain when you get here,” Bradley replied.

“Is he OK?”

There was a pause. You could hear commotion in the background. “Reid?”

“Yeah?”

“Come now.”

You burst through the hospital doors. Everywhere you turned, there were people in Navy uniforms. Doctors in scrubs. Nurses with frowns on their faces. You felt like your lungs were on fire. You weren’t sure where you had parked, or if you had run every red light between Bob’s house and the hospital and you were only vaguely aware that you had forgotten to put on a sweater so you were running across the linoleum floor in a pair of Hokas and a tiny blue sports bra.

“How can I help you?” A nurse looked up at you from where she sat at a curved desk.

“Lieutenant Robert Floyd.” The words spilled out of your mouth in an avalanche.

“Relation?”

What were you to Bob? Best friend? Roommate? Family? The girl whose bed he sometimes slept in? You grimaced. “I’m his emergency contact.”

The nurse nodded, clicking her mouse. “Lieutenant Floyd was brought in an hour ago. He’s in critical care.” She looked up. “You can wait in the waiting room at the end of the hall.”

“Is he, is he OK?” you asked, voice shaking.

The nurse gave you a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, the doctor will have to walk you through Lieutenant Floyd’s injuries, ma’am. Just take a seat. Someone will be out shortly to update you.”

She pointed down the hall toward a room that was encased in glass walls. You floated down the hallway, opening the door and struggling with its weight.

A tanned arm pulled it open and you looked up.

Bradley.

You were in his arms in an instant. The familiar pink peppercorn smell, mixed with jet fuel, flooding your nose. He was everywhere, all at once. But you still felt empty, even in his embrace.

He pulled back, his handsome face drawn and tired.

“Come here,” he whispered, steering you by the shoulders to a nearby chair. You watched as five pairs of eyes landed on you. Phoenix. Hangman. Fanboy. Payback. And an unfamiliar aviator. He was older than the rest, and shorter. But he had an air of importance around him. Wisdom. “This is Mav,” Bradley said, watching your eyes as you fixated on the additional person in the group. “He’s our team leader.”

“And Rooster’s uncle,” Fanboy chipped in.

“I didn’t know you had an uncle,” you murmured.

Bradley gave you a thin smile. “Lots we still don’t know about each other sweetheart. That’s OK.”

“Have you seen him?” you asked, craning your neck around, looking at the room. It was just the seven of you in a corner.

They shook their heads. Phoenix laid one hand on your knee. “Reid. He’s going to get through this.”

“I didn’t say it,” you whispered. “I was mad, so I didn’t say it.”

“Say what?”

“He said he loved me before he left. We always say I love you before he leaves.” A tear tumbled down your cheek. “And this time, I was mad. I was trying to prove a point. So when he said it, I didn’t say it back.” You put your head in your hands. “What if I don’t get the chance to tell him?”

Phoenix squeezed your knee. “You’ll get the chance.”

“Family of Lieutenant Robert Floyd?”

Seven pairs of eyes turned to the doctor standing in the doorway. You stood up, Bradley hovering next to you like you were about to fall. “Yes.” Your voice was thin, weak.

The doctor nodded. “Come this way ma’am.”

You looked around.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Jake asked quietly.

You shook your head. “No, um, I think I need to go alone.”

Bradley squeezed your bare arm. “We’ll be right here, OK?”

You nodded, following the doctor out of the room and into the hallway. The doctor led you down a winding hallway, the flickering overhead lights adding to the surrealism that you felt in that moment.

He paused outside of a closed door. “Lieutenant Floyd sustained a brain injury from the accident,” he said. You gasped. “We won’t know the extent until he wakes up.”

“So he’s in a coma?” you asked.

The doctor nodded. “He has a broken leg, he came in with a collapsed lung, and he’s currently in a coma.”

“Oh, my God,” you whispered.

He turned the handle to the door. “I’ll leave you with him.”

Inside the room was dim. You stepped forward. Bob laid on the hospital bed in the middle of the room. He looked small. He was so tall, and you always saw him as so strong. But there, in the bed, he looked feeble.

He looked the way you felt inside.

His glasses sat perched on the rolling table next to the window. You picked them up. There was a small crack on one of the lenses.

The room was quiet, save for the machines. This time there was no intubation, just a tangle of IVs and a heart monitor. You sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing your hand over his hair softly, running your finger down his cheek.

“I love you, too,” you whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I was holding out because I was mad, and that was wrong of me. I don’t know if you know this, Bobby, but I’m kind of a bitch.”

No response. You hadn’t expected one, but the reality that he was there, but he also wasn’t, was difficult to wrap your head around.

You kicked off your shoes, and gently eased onto the bed, curling yourself around Bob’s side, careful to make sure that all of the IV wires were on the opposite side. You slung one arm across his abdomen, resting your head on his upper arm. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to happen,” you whispered. “You’re the one who sticks around, Bobby. You’re the dependable one, remember? I need you.” You squeezed your eyes shut, tears spilling out, soaking the coarse white cotton sheets between your body and Bob’s. “I fucking need you, honey. Now more than ever.”

You didn’t even realize you had fallen asleep until you heard voices whispering around you. You opened your eyes in a small sliver. Jake, Phoenix and Bradley stood near the doorway in a huddle, whispering in hushed tones.

“We can’t let her stay here like that,” Phoenix said. “She’s gotta go home. Shower. Eat. It’s not healthy.”

“Just leave her be,” Jake said and both aviators turned to him in surprise. “What? I’m a nice person. Besides, what harm could it do to leave her another hour? Doctor said he could wake up any minute. How do you think he would feel if he wakes up and she’s not here?”

“Seresin is right.” This time, Phoenix turned to Bradley in shock. “Floyd would tear this entire place apart if he woke up and she wasn’t next to him. I’ll go to their house and get her some stuff. Change of clothes. Something to eat. I’m sure the nurses will get a cot or something.”

“His glasses.”

The three of them turned. You had your eyes open, but they were focused on nothing. Just staring, blankly, at the wall.

“He needs his spare glasses. He keeps them in the top drawer of his bathroom. Green case.”

Bradley stepped closer, approaching the side of the bed. He reached out with one hand, touching your shoulder, and you moved away on instinct, crawling closer to Bob, practically laying yourself on top of him.

Bradley retreated.

“OK, honey. I’ll get his glasses.”

“And a book,” you whispered. “Whatever is on his nightstand.”

Bradley nodded. “What can I get you?”

You closed your eyes. “I don’t want anything.”

“Reid—”

“No,” you snapped. “Just leave. Please. I want to be alone with Bobby.”

You heard footsteps and the door closing and you opened your eyes, expecting peace. But Jake Seresin sat in a chair on the opposite side of the bed, one ankle crossed over the other knee.

You rolled your eyes. “Leave, Hangman.”

“He’s my friend, too,” Jake said.

“You pick on him. He told me.”

Jake nodded. “Yeah. And I’m sorry about that. Just like I know you’re sorry about the fact that you two were fighting before we left.”

You sat up. “How did you know about that?”

“Floyd over here told me.”

“Why would he tell you that?”

“Because we’re friends,” Jake said. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”

You looked down at Bob, brushing your fingers over his forearm, slipping your fingers into his. “Does he hate me?”

“He couldn’t hate you if he tried.”

A salty stream of tears started to fall and you didn’t even bother to try and stop them. “I hate myself right now.”

“That’s not what he wanted.”

You blinked before raising your eyes to Jake. For the first time, he looked genuine. Like he truly, actually cared about the conversation the two of you were having.

“He wanted to take it back.”

“Take what back?”

“Telling you to leave.”

You shook your head. “You’re just trying to make me feel better.” Jake smiled. “Does that seem like something I would do?”

You looked at him, and despite everything, found yourself smiling along. “No, I guess not.”

Jake stood up. “He’s going to be OK.” He approached the bed, and to your surprise, patted Bob’s unresponsive shoulder in a familiar, friendly way. “See you later, Floyd. Don’t make your girl here wait too long for you to wake up.” He smiled down at you and then he was gone, slipping out the door into the hallway and it was just you and Bob in the stillness of the hospital room, the quiet hum of machines, the sterile smell in the air.

You laid back down, head on the pillow near Bob’s, fingers trailing softly across his arm and chest. “I miss the way things used to be,” you whispered to him. “It was so much more simple when it was just you and me. Back in college. Before you left for the Navy.” You sighed, tracing your fingers up through his hair. “Before I fucked everything up.”

It was quiet. Too quiet. You missed the soft way that Bob snored in his sleep. You missed the way he hummed along as you were talking, small reassurances. You missed his goofy, crooked smile. You missed the way he held your hand sometimes when you drove long distances together, content in the silence.

You missed him, even though he was right beneath your fingertips.

***

Jake stepped into the elevator, pushing his hands into his pockets. It had been a day and a half since Bob was admitted. Everyone had gone home at some point except for you. Last time Jake checked, you were asleep on the cot that a nurse had rolled into Bob’s room.

He wasn’t paying attention, so when the elevator doors opened, Jake stepped forward, only to find himself face to face with you.

“Shit,” he said, blinking. “Sorry. Is this the fifth floor?”

You frowned and stepped inside. “Going to see Bob?” you asked, ignoring his question, pressing the five button for the fifth floor.

Jake looked out as the doors slowly closed. It was an unfamiliar floor, with a different layout than where they had Bob.

There was a small plaque sign on the wall in front of the elevator banks.

Oncology.

He turned to you. “What were you doing on that floor?”

You shrugged. “Went looking for better coffee. Thought there might be a cart or something.”

You kept your eyes turned straight ahead. Jake’s eyes roamed over your body, stopping at your hand where it was shaking next to your thigh.

The door dinged and opened. You glared at him. “What are you looking at?” you snapped, stepping out onto the fifth floor.

Jake followed you out into the hallway, heading for the waiting room. Phoenix and Bradley were huddled in the corner, deep in conversation. You were about to reach for the glass door when Jake’s arm caught yours.

You whipped around. “Hangman? What the fuck?”

“Why were you really on the oncology floor?” he whispered.

You shrugged his hand off. “Like I said, I was looking for coffee.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And you think I care whether or not you believe me?” You scoffed at him, opening the glass door. Bradley and Phoenix looked up. Bradley stood up and gathered you into a hug and you melted into him. “Any update?” you asked.

Phoenix shook her head. “Not yet.”

The glass door skidded open and all eyes turned. A tall doctor in blue scrubs looked around. “Reid Coleman?”

You dropped your arms from where you had been holding Bradley and turned, tension filling every crevice in your body. “That’s me.”

The doctor smiled. “Lieutenant Floyd is asking for you.”

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ereardon · 2 years ago

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Friends Don't || Chapter 5

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x OC [Reid]

Tropes: Friends to lovers

Warnings: Cursing, angst, alcohol, fighting

WC: 3.3K

Series masterlist here; previous chapter here; next chapter here

“Rooster,” he said, his voice icy.

“Bob.”

The two men stared at each other in silence for a moment, frozen in the doorway.

Bob stepped out onto the brick, closing the front door softly behind him. Bradley took a few steps backward and crossed his arms over his chest. “Listen, Bob—” Bradley started, but Bob held up a hand, cutting him off.

“She’s not as strong as you think she is,” Bob said and Bradley frowned. “She seems beautiful and carefree and cool and she is all of those things. But she’s also scared.”

“Scared of what?”

Bob shook his head. “What’s your end goal here, Bradshaw?”

“I like her,” Bradley said. “What’s wrong with that?”

Bob took one step closer. For the first time, Bradley noted that the WSO could be intimidating when he wanted to be. He was always the nice one. The shy one. But here, Bradley was intimidated by Bob. It wasn’t his stature so much as it was the look in his eyes.

Menacing.

“If you hurt her,” Bob whispered darkly, “I will never fucking forgive you.”

And then he turned, walking into the house and slamming the door behind him.

***

You slipped out of your dress that was sticky with sweat and kicked off your heels, heading for the bathroom in the hallway in a robe. You could hear Bob and Bradley outside, their figures hidden behind the wooden door, and you frowned.

In the bathroom, you scrubbed off your makeup, letting the hot water run through your hair, across your face. You stepped out and looked into the mirror.

Sometimes you wondered if someone like Bradley would find you attractive underneath it all. Without the hair or the makeup or the provocative clothing.

The only person who had ever liked you, beneath it all, was Bob.

The steam spilled out when you opened the door into the hallway and you shivered, scurrying back to your room. You were so caught up in trying to get back to the warmth of the room, desperate for a pair of soft pajamas, that you didn’t even notice Bob sitting on the chair in the corner until he cleared his throat.

“Shit!” you cried, gripping the robe you were wearing tighter around your chest where it had been gaping. “What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“Sunny,” he whispered, standing up.

“Turn around,” you demanded and Bob did as he was told. You shrugged off your robe, sliding on a pair of silky shorts and a matching camisole. “OK,” you said and Bob turned back around. “I repeat, what are you doing here?”

“Honey,” Bob said softly and you shook your head.

“Don’t honey me, Bob Floyd,” you said and he winced. You never called him that. It was always Bobby, honey, sweetheart, babe. Never Bob. And never Bob Floyd.

“I know you’re mad at me. And you have every right to be.” Bob stepped closer. You couldn’t help it. You let him place his large, familiar hands on your bare arms. His warm eyes latched onto yours. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I was an ass. I am an ass. Everything I said, I was a jerk. I hated myself for it the second I said it.” He rubbed his fingers up and down your arm softly. “Please, honey, let me make it up to you.”

You grimaced. “What did you say to Bradley?”

“What?”

You tilted your head to the side. “I saw the two of you, outside. What did you say to him?”

Bob let out a sigh. “I made him promise he wouldn’t hurt you.”

“How can you say that?” you whispered. “When you’re the one that hurt me?”

“Sunny.” Bob felt his voice crack. Seeing you sad, upset, angry with him made him want to crumple into a powder and slip away in a strong breeze. His fingers slid over the bare skin of your arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

You raised your eyes to his. “Don’t lie to me, Bobby. I think you meant it. I think you’ve wanted to say what you said for a long time. You just never had the guts before.”

“That’s not true.”

“Don’t lie to me to keep my feelings from being hurt,” you whispered. “I’m a big girl, Bobby. I can take the criticism. You think I’m going to walk all over your life and make a big mess. You think I’m going to back out on what I said. You think I’m going to leave.”

Bob raised one hand, gently brushing away the tear that was threatening to spill down your cheek out from under your right eye. “Yes,” he whispered, his voice husky and low. “I’m scared you’re going to leave. I’m scared you’re going to get bored of me and pack up and all that’ll be left is a note on the kitchen table. Because that’s how it’s always been, honey. I don’t know why, but you’re always running.”

You felt another tear slide down your cheek, this time on the left side. “What if this whole time I’ve been running towards you and I just didn’t know it?”

Bob pulled you into a hug, until your face was pressed against his chest, his strong, familiar arms wrapped around your back, fingers gripping your sides, one hand floating up toward your neck, holding you against him.

Like he was afraid you were going to flee at any moment.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured against your temple. “If it’s me you’re running to, I’m always going to be here, waiting for you.”

***

Bob and Denver drove up from base for a long weekend a few months after your first visit to Lemoore. You had finally settled into your apartment in Nob Hill, a walk-up on the fourth floor off of Pine Street. The walk alone made your calves burn every time you left the apartment, but there was something to be said about the view from the top of the hill off California Street.

It was a small one bedroom, but there was enough room for a sleeper sofa and there was laundry on your floor and that was more than you could ask for in a place like SF at the time.

What you hadn’t been sure about were the sleeping arrangements.

“There’s the bedroom,�� you said, pointing to the door at the far end of the apartment that was shut to help keep the AC window unit running in the living room pumping air through the common spaces. “The couch folds out into a queen, but it’s actually really nice.” You paused. “I, um, I wasn’t sure where you two wanted to sleep.”

Bob looked over at Denver. She raised her eyebrows.

You tried to fill the silence. “I’m happy to take the couch if y’all want to take the bedroom. Or Bobby and I can take the room, we’ve done it before.” You grimaced. “Not it. Never it. We’ve slept in the same bed before. Platonically. That’s all.” Why were you a bumbling mess?

Denver chuckled. Bob’s ears flushed pink at the tips. “I’ll take the pull out,” she said. “It’s your place, I’m not going to kick you out of your room. Robert can sleep wherever he’s most comfortable.”

Bob looked between the two of you, cutting the tension with his eyes. “Let’s grab lunch.”

Bob never admitted that he and Denver were a couple. Nothing was confirmed. It was more of a hunch on your side. But you watched the two of them together. There was an ease, a confidence you had never seen with Bob before. He had bungled opportunities with women more times than you could count. You had watched, painfully, as Bob tried to shoot his shot at bars and was turned down. He got uncomfortable and shy and painfully quiet.

But not with Denver.

They laughed. They spoke to each other quietly. They were able to predict each other’s thoughts in a way. You watched carefully as Denver got up and asked the man behind the counter for another packet of hot sauce before Bob could even register that he would want one. You saw how he created space for her on a busy sidewalk.

They fit.

And a part of you was jealous. Because for the first time, it wasn’t Bob looking out for you. He had someone else.

Is this what he felt like all those times he watched you leave parties with other guys?

It was Bob and Denver, and then you. The two of them walking ahead of you through the Ferry Building. You took a photo of the two of them in front of the Painted Ladies, you watched them argue over what chocolate to get from the Ghirardelli factory and how they laughed at the sea lions in Fisherman's Wharf.

He belonged to her.

Later that night, after an enormous meal in Chinatown that cost less than a nice steak in Tokyo, you tried to excuse yourself. “I’m going to hang out on the roof for a bit,” you said, grabbing a bottle of wine from the fridge. “Give you guys a break from me.” You said it with a smile, even though it pained you. It was the first time you could think of where you thought Bob might actually want a break from you.

“You sure?” Bob asked softly, sitting on the edge of the couch, pulling off his sneakers.

You nodded. “I’ll just be upstairs if you need me.” And then, before they could say anything else, you were rushing out into the stairwell, climbing the extra two flights of stairs before barreling out through the emergency door onto the low-slung roof.

You breathed in the crisp evening air. That was the thing about San Francisco. Even in the summer months, there was a chill that overtook early mornings and late nights.

Halfway through the bottle of white wine, you heard the door to the roof edge open. Denver’s flaming red hair emerged first, followed by her tiny body.

“Reid?” she called out. You looked over your shoulder.

“Over here.”

Denver crossed the small roof, coming to stand next to you against one low wall.

You held out the wine bottle. She took it and placed it on her lips, taking a deep sip.

She turned to you, your gaze glued out across the roofs of nearby buildings. “Floyd talks about you so much that we all thought you were made up until you came for that visit,” she said.

You smiled, but it was tight. Small.

“He kept saying oh, Reid this. Reid that. And everything he said about you felt like a female character written by men. That you were beautiful and that you didn’t care what anybody thought of you and that you were the kind of girl who could win over a room of strangers in a matter of minutes. That you were the life of the party.” She paused, taking another sip of wine. “That you were the only person he had ever really, truly loved outside of his family.”

You turned to her, squinting. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I know you think you’re losing him.”

“What makes you say that?”

She turned her dazzling green eyes on you. “It’s written all over your face.”

Later that night, long after Denver had left the rooftop, you made your way back to the apartment, easing open the door gently. It was dark, the blinds drawn. You opened the door to the bedroom softly without glancing into the living room.

To your surprise, Bob was fast asleep on the far side of the bed.

Silently, you changed out of your clothes into a pair of pajamas, sliding down into the bed next to him. He felt the bed rustle with your weight as you got comfortable.

“Sunny?” he murmured softly.

You rolled onto your right side, looking at him. He had his eyes still closed. “Yeah,” you whispered. “It’s me.”

You reached down and threaded your fingers into his where his hand laid at his side.

“Why aren’t you out there with Denver?” you asked.

Bob opened his eyes and turned to you. “What?”

“I just, I expected you to want to sleep with your girlfriend.” Your voice was low, almost shaky. You didn’t know why it was as painful to spit out as it was.

Bob rolled over so the two of you were face-to-face on the small bed. He released your hand so your fingers weren’t pinched beneath his weight. “Denver is my pilot,” he whispered. “She’s my partner. My friend. That’s all.”

“It doesn’t seem like that’s all there is between the two of you,” you replied.

Bob frowned. “Why are you asking, Sunny?” he murmured.

“Nevermind,” you whispered, rolling over, facing away from Bob.

Instinctively, he scooted closer, molding his body to yours, his hand resting carefully on your hip. You couldn’t help but think of how different, how much more bold, this Bob was compared to the first time you had crawled into his bed, all those years before. “Sunny,” he whispered. There was something in his tone. A probing. A question that he was afraid to ask.

You pressed your eyes shut tightly. “Goodnight, Bobby.”

He sighed. “Goodnight, honey.”

***

You went out with Bradley a second time. Even though you knew it made Bob angry. Even though you knew you were backtracking on the promise you had made to him. That you wouldn’t treat his life with the absolute disregard that you treated your own life with.

Being with Bradley helped you forget the way Bob looked at you as you walked out the door in another questionably short dress.

It made you forget the fact that there was a small pile of unread emails in your inbox from your doctor back in Brooklyn.

Bradley was beautiful. He was exactly the kind of guy you always went for. Handsome, charming, the life of the party. He took you to dinner and drinks, and when he asked where you wanted to go next, you wanted to delay the date ending.

“The beach,” you said.

Bradley smiled, pulling the Bronco out onto the main road, heading for where the sun was gently kissing the horizon.

The two of you grabbed old beach towels from the back of his truck and walked along the shore until you found a spot that was flat and deserted, and you laid out the towels, sitting down side by side.

Bradley looked over at you after a moment. “You talk to Bob?”

“Yeah.” You reached out, digging your fingers in the grainy sand. It was cool. The temperatures had dropped, and you shivered. Bradley immediately shrugged off his hideous Hawaiian shirt, draping it over your shoulders. You smiled at him. “Thanks.” It was warm and smelled like him. Spicy, like pink peppercorns.

“I’ve known Floyd for a few years now,” Bradley said. “Went on the most dangerous mission of my life with him six months ago. I almost died.” He paused. “And somehow, I never saw him as angry or as heated as the way he looked at me the other night when I was dropping you off.”

The waves were crashing against the shore. Harsh. Unrelenting. A reminder that nature would have its way, no matter how humans decided to try to intervene. “You know Bobby. He gets protective.”

“This was something else,” Bradley shook his head.

You turned to him and frowned.

“You told me that first night we met that you were his. For all intents and purposes. Is that still true?”

“I’m his,” you said softly. “But I don’t belong to him. I’m his girl, but it's not the same thing. He’s the one thing I have in this life that’s worth anything,” you replied. “Bobby has been my person for almost ten years. He held me together when I was just cracks patched with tape and glue. Everything I have, everything I am, it’s because I know at the end of the day if I need him, he’s going to be there.”

Bradley’s coffee-colored eyes found yours. “What are you looking for, Reid?”

You tore your eyes from the shore. “What do you mean?”

“I like you,” he said and the honesty dripped through his words with ease. Bradley was truthful. He was genuine. He was good.

That scared you.

“But I don’t want to get involved if you’re not sure what you want. Because the way you talk about each other? You and Floyd? You’re part of each other in an inextricable way. You’re the thing he holds most dear. And vice versa. So I don’t want to insert myself where I’m not welcome.”

Bradley leaned closer, pressing one large thumb to your cheek, sliding it down toward your plump lip. His eyes roamed across your face.

“But if you want more, if you think there’s something more here than just a few dates that fizzle out, then I’m in.” He pressed down, thumb sliding between your lips and automatically you found yourself sucking on the digit, your eyes locked on his. “I am fucking in, Reid.”

***

The lights were on when you got home. You unlocked the door using the key on your keychain and slipped off your shoes in the foyer, sand still sticking to your toes lightly.

“Sunny?”

“It’s me,” you called back, dropping your bag down by your shoes, making your way down the hall to the living room.

Bob turned and looked back at you over his shoulder from where he sat on the couch.

He took in your messy hair and the way your dress was bunched up slightly around your hips. Bradley’s Hawaiian shirt that you had slipped both arms into.

Bob frowned. “Where were you?”

“With Bradley.”

You watched his jaw tense. He grabbed the remote, muting the show on the TV before standing up and walking around the edge of the couch and the coffee table. Bob looked at you closely. He registered the way your pink lipstick was smudged and the sand that still clung to your bare calves. “Sunny,” he whispered.

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Go ahead, Bobby. Ask me. I know you want to.”

He sucked in a breath. “Did you sleep with him?”

“Why do you care?”

Bob let out a grunt and slammed his fist onto the countertop to his right. You jolted in place. His blue eyes landed on yours. “Did you fucking sleep with him?”

“No,” you said and you watched relief flood Bob’s delicate features. And then, “Not yet.”

His eyes turned dark. “What do you mean, not yet?”

You shrugged. “He’s a good guy. I’m seeing him again on Friday.”

“I know he’s a good guy, he’s a great fucking guy, that's why he's one of my best friends,” Bob seethed. “Why are you doing this, Reid?”

You tossed your hands in the air. “Why do you care, Bobby? It’s my life! Why do you care who I do or don’t fuck?”

“Just because you fuck him doesn’t mean you belong to him,” Bob said, his voice climbing.

You stepped closer, shoving one finger into his chest, practically shaking in anger. “Well I’ve never fucked you, but you seem to think I belong to you.”

Bob’s eyes blazed as he stared down at you.

“Stop acting like I’m yours,” you said, more quietly this time, your anger subsiding. Instead, it was replaced by exhaustion. Defeat. Acceptance. “Someone like Bradley is willing to go out on a limb for me. You’re never going to be like that, are you?” Your eyes searched his for an answer. “You’re never going to want me the way he does.”

“Maybe not,” Bob whispered, his words traveling along the fault lines of your heart, splintering them one inch at a time. “Maybe you shouldn’t have come here, Sunny.”

You nodded, tears threatening to spill beyond your lash line. “Maybe you’re right.”