Chapter 9
CATHERINE
The words linger on the tip of my tongue. I know exactly what I need to do, but need and want are two different things that come down to self-control.
I’ve been at war with myself my entire life, making choices that will always please others. For once, I want to do something for myself. Something that fills this void in my heart and satisfies the deep hunger for another man’s gentle touch—Wilder’s touch.
I’m drawn to him. I won’t deny it—at least, not to myself. I can’t explain the emotions I feel when we’re together. I have no doubt fate brought us together for more than just a lesson in literature, or help with an essay and an article.
Whatever this is between us is bigger than either of us could have ever imagined. It sounds crazy—hell, it feels crazy—but my gut tells me not to let him go. At least, not yet.
“Don’t go,” I whisper with bated breath. No regrets, no turning back. I want him to stay. “Just give me a couple minutes. Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be back.”
He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth and my stomach does a somersault. “I’ll wait as long as you want me to,” he says, with a sweep of his fingers across my cheek. “But I need you to know, I didn’t come here to make this something more, or less, than what it is. I just want to spend time with you. Even if that means just drinking coffee and talking.”
I quirk a brow. “You drink coffee?”
“Of course I drink coffee. Doesn’t everyone?” He gives me this stunned look, as if it is normal for a high schooler to require caffeine to wake up in the mornings. A high schooler who has the energy to play a sport that requires you to work out twice a day.
I laugh. “I guess so. But you’re only eighteen.” I stop myself from saying any more, like how I’d take him to be a hot chocolate kind of person and how I didn’t drink coffee until I was in my twenties.
Part of me wants to overthink this again. Wilder is only eighteen. He’s so mature, though, and thoughtful, and tender. He’s more of a man than most men I know. And apparently he drinks coffee.
“You’re right. I am only eighteen, but I’ll be nineteen in July.”
“Oh really? My birthday is in July, too. I’ll be…” I let my words trail off, not wanting to divulge my age because it makes this situation feel all the more wrong. Once again, I won’t go there. I refuse to overthink this. Like Wilder said, this doesn’t have to be anything more or less than what it is. We’re friends. There is nothing wrong with that.
“You’ll be thirty,” he finishes for me. “On July third. And I’ll be nineteen on July sixth. Age is just a number, Mrs. J. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”
I’m actually surprised he even knows my birthday. I must have mentioned it in class at one time. It makes my heart beat a little faster knowing he remembered that.
I look down, shaking my head while smiling, before lifting my eyes to his. “Who the hell are you and what planet did you come from?”
He extends his hand and I lay mine in it. “Wilder Christian Cromwell,” he says confidently. “I have no idea who I am because I’m still trying to figure that out myself. I’m from Willow Creek, Colorado, and I’ll probably live here for the rest of my life. I enjoy the simple things in life and I’ve found that second-guessing myself is a waste of time.”
I bite back a smile. “It’s nice to meet you Wilder. I’m Catherine Ann Jenkins, also from Willow Creek, and I have baggage that I’d like to throw in a dumpster and start on fire.”
“Catherine,” he says softly. “I like it. You look like a Catherine.”
I make a gagging sound. “I hate it. I wish my parents would have named me something cool, like Annabelle or Victoria.”
“Nah.” He shakes his head. “Catherine is perfect.”
There’s a beat of silence and each passing second has my heart racing more and more, until I finally break it.
I shoot a thumb over my shoulder. “I just need to check in with Troy, then I’ll be back.”
He nods. “Okay. I’ll be here…Catherine.”
I instantly feel my cheeks flush with heat at the sound of my name coming off his tongue. But I shake my head because it doesn’t sound quite right.
“No?” he says with a smirk. “Okay, how about…” He taps a finger on his chin, looking up as if to think. “Cat.”
I swallow hard thinking about my social media name. Does he know? Is that what this is? It can’t be. There is no way.
I shrug off the thought and giggle over the nickname I really like. Maybe a little too much. “Catherine is fine.”
I move toward the door, pausing to give him one last look before I go out, and he says, “See you soon, Cat.”
I push out of the door with a smile on my face and instantly duck my head. The rain has started to come down again, so as soon as I get inside, I go to the bathroom and put a towel over my head. Then I secure a robe around my waist and go to the couch with my phone in hand.
After a quick video call to Troy, I tell him I’m not feeling well and I’m going to lie in bed and read before going to sleep. Fortunately, our bedroom is one of the few places there are no cameras, the bathroom included. He asks about Wilder at the door and I tell him I must have been in the shower when the bell rang.
Thankfully, he seems to buy the story and is actually sweet when we talk. I know it isn’t real, that he’s just being nice because he’s far away and is worried I will run while he is out of town. It’s one of the reasons I like his work trips.
I have thought about running when he leaves, but I know there is a tracker on my phone and car, and even if I managed to find and disable both of them, I would not put it past him to have hidden one inside my body or something absurd and obsessive like that.
Once the call is ended, I sneak beneath the cameras and take off my robe and the towel on my head. Leaving my phone on the kitchen counter, I go out the back door with a bag of coffee, creamer, donuts, and a huge-ass smile on my face.
Just friends, I remind myself. There is nothing wrong with spending an evening with a friend. It doesn’t matter how old he is, or that he’s my student. We’re both consenting adults who are just hanging out.
I can’t deny the excitement rippling through me. It’s been a very long time since I’ve had a relaxed, normal night with another person that wasn’t my abusive husband. Hell, no night is relaxed or normal with him.
When I get back to the guesthouse, the scent of coffee floods my senses before I’m even inside. “Wilder,” I call out as I close the door behind me. My nostrils flare as I inhale a deep breath. “Did you make coffee?”
His head pokes around the corner from the kitchen, a grin firmly in place. “Sure did.”
I like that he’s making himself comfortable. It eases the awkward tension in a weird sort of way.
I hold up my hand showing him the creamer I brought. “Great minds think alike, but don’t drink that.”
“The coffee?”
I nod. “There’s no saying how long it’s been in there. For your own health and safety, just dump it.”
Wilder pulls the carafe out from under the drip spout and holds it up to his nose. “Smells good.”
I walk into the kitchen and set everything I brought over onto the counter before taking the carafe from him. “All coffee always smells good, but I can guarantee it’s as stale as those open crackers on the counter.”
He looks at the crackers before grabbing them. His eyebrows waggle as he pulls a saltine out of the pack. “These crackers?”
“Don’t do it,” I warn him as he brings it to his mouth, smirking.
Then he pops it in his mouth and his smile immediately shifts to a disgusted look as he chews.
I can’t help the laughter that spews out of me as I watch him try and chew, what is probably, a year-old cracker.
“Dump it,” he tells me as he swallows down what’s in his mouth. “If it tastes anything like this, it will ruin coffee for me for the rest of my life.”
“Always a rebel.” I sigh jokingly as I pour the coffee down the drain.
It seems he’s got his bearings back as he sweeps some crumbs from his lips and picks up the creamer I brought over. “Donuts and French vanilla.” He winks. “My kinda girl.”
A warm sensation spreads through my body and I literally feel like I could melt into a puddle on this floor.
After giving the carafe a good rinse, I put it back under the spout and pour some grounds over the filter. Moving through the kitchen, I get two coffee mugs out of the cupboard, immediately noticing freshly-stained coffee in the bottom of both of them. It’s odd, considering no one has stayed here in a while, but I’m sure it’s older than it appears.
I put them in the sink and scrub them vigorously. Suds foam around my hands before I put them under the cold running water because it takes forever to get hot. My nose curls when the musky scent of stale water rises from the drain. It’s a reminder that this place has been vacant for quite a while. It’s not in bad shape by any means, but it’s very outdated and could use a little modern touch, as well as some life inside it.
“Need a hand?” Wilder asks from behind me and I jolt at the sound of his voice. I turn my head slightly to steal a glance and find him looking down into the sink. He’s so close I swear I feel his heartbeat against my back. “They look pretty clean to me.”Chills run down my body when I feel the warmth of his hot breath roll down my neck.
My shoulders draw back, body tensing as I shake the excess water from the mugs. “Clean enough,” I tell him.
I spin around and realize just how close he is when our noses nearly brush. Hands held out with the mugs, I raise my brows. “Shall we?”
He stands there, watching me, and my heart starts racing again as I wonder if he’s going to kiss me. I’m not sure why I keep thinking that. He hasn’t kissed me yet and he probably has no intentions of kissing me in the future.
God, I wish I would stop thinking like this. Wilder probably has no interest at all in me in that way. Sure, he’s flirtatious and he has a way of making me feel special, but I’m old to guys his age. He’s probably just being nice.
Eyes on mine, he reaches out and grabs both mugs before lowering them to his side. “Allow me.”
Even those two simple words make my insides quiver. It’s not just the words, it’s his gruff voice and the way he looks at me. No one has ever looked at me the way Wilder does.
I need to get the hell out of my head. This is ridiculous.
I step back and hop onto the counter to sit while I watch him pour two cups of coffee.
“So,” I say with a smile. “Are you half coffee and half creamer, or mostly coffee with a little creamer?”
“Let’s just say I like coffee in my creamer.”
My face twists and I stick my tongue out. “Gross.”
“Hey now. Don’t yuck my yum until you’ve tried it.” He raises a brow but I shake my head at him.
“One teaspoon of creamer for me, please.”
“Oh, come on. Just give it a try.” He looks back and winks at me, making me bite my lip.
“That’s way too much sugar,” I practically yell, wanting to cover my eyes at the way he is ruining the precious drink from the gods right before my eyes.
“Ah,” he snickers. “So you’re a health nut?”
“No. Not really,” I tell him truthfully. “I just don’t overindulge unless it’s a special occasion. Like a wedding with cake, or a walk on the beach with ice cream.”
He raises the spoon, putting it in his mouth before licking it slowly. I watch every movement with rapt attention. “Well, since this is our first time having coffee together, it’s a special occasion. In that case, I need you to trust me.”
I sputter a laugh. “What’s trust have to do with coffee?”
His eyes go wide but a smile plays on his lips. “When it comes to the most important meal of the day, everything.”
“The most important meal of the day?” I chuckle. “I love coffee, but I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Well, it taught me how much I can trust you.” He points to the very expired coffee he tried to make us before. “Had I drunk the coffee I made, I might be dead right now.”
I laugh at the seriousness of his tone. “That’s a little dramatic, especially considering you did eat that old-ass cracker.”
“Mrs. J,” he chuckles along with me. “Did you just swear?”
Shit. I did. I just swore in front of a student. I’ve never done that before. But Wilder doesn’t feel like a student right now, and come next week, he won’t be anymore.
“What can I say, I’m human.” I shrug, trying not to read too much into the situation and end up forcing myself to run out of here.
He glances over his shoulder as he continues mixing our coffee. “I just never took you as someone who would use curse words. You’re so…perfect.”
I laugh because it’s hilarious that he thinks that. “No one is perfect, Wilder. Especially not me.”
He takes a step toward me and taps my nose. “Well, if I had to pick the one person in my life who is closest to perfection, it would be you.”
He turns back to the mugs and I let the facade on my face fall for just a moment because it’s too hard to smile right now.
Wilder’s words should make me feel joy, knowing he thinks so highly of me, but instead, all I feel is immense guilt. I’m not who he thinks I am. It’s not even my past that I hate myself for; it’s my present. It’s what I allow myself to endure without a fight. I could fight Troy. Many times I have thought about shooting him with the gun I bought.
I have it all planned out in my head. I would let him hurt me enough in an area where he has cameras and make sure they were recording, then I would run to our room and just shoot him. I know I would get away with it. With him dead, he couldn’t manipulate the system anymore and my secret would stay safe forever.
But I don’t. I fall down and let him continue to kick me until he’s had enough. I bow, I crawl, and I fucking obey. I am not perfect. Nothing about me is.
Right now, though, I have to put on a front. The same front I put on every day of my fucking life. For some reason, it hurts to do it with Wilder, but I have to. If he knew the truth, he would try to save me and that will only end with him getting hurt.
“You’re sweet, Wilder. But don’t ever let images fool you. What you see is not always what you get.”
Wilder spins around and hands me a cup of coffee before taking a sip of his own. He nods at the coffee in my hand, gesturing for me to take a sip, so I do. It’s not terrible, but it’s nothing special either. Just a whole lot of creamer in a small amount of coffee. Wilder is pretty proud of what he made me, so I’ll play along. Besides, it’s caffeine, so I’ll take it.
“And for the best part.” He reaches into the donut box and pulls out a powdered donut hole before handing it to me.
I snicker as I go to take a bite, but he stops me.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” He grabs another donut then dunks it right into his coffee. “You're doing it all wrong. You gotta soak the donut then eat it.”
“Is that so?” I tilt my head to the side, unaware there are rules about how to enjoy a donut and coffee.
“Yup.” He says it so matter-of-factly I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face. “Go ahead and give it a try.”
Watching him, I dip a small part of the donut in my coffee then bring it to my mouth. The sweet sugar coats my lips as I bite off a piece. It falls apart on my tongue like cotton candy, but the bitterness of the coffee is still there. He was right, it is good.
Chewing, I nod. “This is amazing.”
“Right?” He pops the rest of his donut hole in his mouth. “It’s two treats in one.”
I bring my cup to my mouth, the savory scent of coffee and vanilla filling my nostrils and immediately offering me a sense of peace. It’s strange how smells and sounds can do that. The bittersweet taste hits my lips, spreading warmth through my body. I raise my brows at Wilder, a smile forming on my lips before I take another sip.
“How’s the coffee?” he asks.
“Sweet. Very sweet,” I say, almost in a whisper. Just like him.
Holding his cup with two hands, he lowers it in front of his chest. “So,” he begins. “I have to agree with what you said, what you see is not always what you get, but I want to know what people get with you.”
I tilt my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Play a game with me. If you came with a warning label, what would it say?”
"Oh boy.” I turn around and set my coffee down before chewing relentlessly on my bottom lip. “Honestly,” I say. “I think it would be read something along the lines of…run. Don’t look back. Just keep running.”
It’s painful to admit that, but it’s the most honest thing I’ve said in a very long time. My fingers grip the edge of the counter so tight they are almost numb in just a few seconds. I should come with a warning label. It would help keep everyone at a safe distance.
“Oh, come on, Cat.” Wilder puts a hand on my upper arm and I roll my shoulders inward, eyes closing momentarily. I don’t dislike the way he calls me Cat. I should, but I like it better than Mrs. Jenkins or Mrs. J. Those titles come with the reminder that I’m an authoritative figure to Wilder, and also that I carry the last name of a monstrous man.
When I don’t respond, he begins to rub his thumb in small circles. “You’re too hard on yourself. Whatever it is you think people need to run from, might very well be the reason they gravitate toward you.”
I look up slowly and his hand gently falls to his side. Taking the focus off myself because it’s too uncomfortable, I move it to him. “What would your warning label say?”
“Puts on a good show while hiding his own inner turmoil.” He exhales heavily before continuing. “Walks the straight and narrow and pleases everyone else before himself.”
“Wilder,” I say softly as I rest my hand on his shoulder. I don’t know what to say because we share that same toxic trait. We are people pleasers before our own wants and comforts. I can attempt to give him advice, but that would only make me a hypocrite.
Instead, I just ask another question. “What sort of inner turmoil are you talking about? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he says with an upbeat tone. “Yeah. I’m okay. It’s just tough, I guess. You know how it is. You’ve been there. Graduating and feeling like you need to have it all figured out.”
I nod in response because I remember exactly how that felt. The thing is, he’s wrong and I was too. “I get it. But you don’t have to have it all figured out, and those who do probably won’t five years from now. All I can say is, follow your heart and it will lead you where you’re meant to be.”
“Is that what you did?”
I lower my hand, averting my gaze. “No. I’m one of those few who thought they knew what they wanted and years later they are exactly where they never imagined ending up.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat as I whisper, “Not in a good way.”
“You’re unhappy, aren’t you?” I can’t see his face, but I can feel his eyes boring into my soul. I get this feeling he knows more than he’s letting on, and I just don’t know what to say anymore. He keeps pushing and pushing and I can only build these walls around me so fast.
I gulp. “I’m…okay, I guess.”
He doesn’t say anything. Just takes a step back and sips on his coffee. I can still smell him from here. He smells so good. Woodsy—like musk, pine, and earth.
“Enough of this.” I raise my voice to a more chipper note as I hop off the counter. “No sulking. Only positivity for the rest of the day.”
He holds his mug out. “I’ll cheers to that.”
I clank mine against his, feeling a little more at ease.
“We can sit in the living room,” I tell him, wondering if that sounds too forward or if it’s weird to have coffee in the living room with your teacher. “I mean, if you want?”
“Works for me.” Without hesitation, he heads there. This is a tiny house so it is only a few steps, but I really enjoy seeing him comfortable enough to move around in this space.
I follow behind him into the small living room, and he takes a seat on one end of the brown floral-printed couch that I’m pretty sure is from the early 90s. I sit on the opposite end, curling my feet into a pretzel as I turn to face him.
Wilder sets his coffee down on the table in front of the couch, then leans back, eyes narrowed at me as he clears his throat. “Can I ask you a question?”
I raise my brows. “Sure. I guess. If I know you like I am beginning to, you’re going to ask anyway.”
He doesn’t miss a beat as he chuckles, then his voice becomes serious. “Why do you always wear turtlenecks?”
I nearly choke on my coffee. I wasn’t expecting that. “They’re comfortable,” I lie, wondering if it would be safe now to wear a normal shirt. The bruises were nearly gone yesterday, but I didn’t want to risk anyone seeing the remnants of them.
Wilder nods at my response, but there’s something about his demeanor that tells me he isn’t buying it. I have no doubt Wilder has grown suspicious of Troy after that evening last year, but he’s never expressed any concern other than asking me how I’m doing. In which, I’ve always told him I’m fine.
I am fine. I’m not dying. I’m healthy. I’m strong. It’s not like Troy would ever kill me, or seriously injure me. He just gets angry and I become his punching bag. It’ll get better once the election is over.
Changing the subject, I, once again, move the focus to him. “Any new jobs from your dad?”
“Not yet but he mentioned something big next week. Some speech he plans to give at the school board meeting.” He shakes his head. “I’m still not sure about this. I don’t even know why he asked me to take on a task that’s so important.”
I sip on my coffee as he talks, and suddenly the mood begins to feel lighter—relaxing, even.
“I am.” I shrug my shoulders. “I know you can do this. Your dad asked you because he knows you can too.”
“I guess,” he says dispassionately. “I mean, it’s only a few speeches and some articles. It’ll be over after the election.”
“You’ll do great. I believe in you, Wilder.”
His head cranks to the left, facing me. “Thank you for believing in me.”
My lips press into a tight smile. “Of course.”
Wilder and I spend the next hour talking about life outside of school and politics. Then, when the conversation takes a turn and he asks about my family, my skin gets clammy and my heart starts racing.
“I don’t talk to my family anymore,” I tell him. “There was no big fall out or anything that could have been done differently, we just live separate lives.”
It hurts to say that out loud, but it’s true. I don’t hate my parents and being an only child, I don’t have siblings to rival with. Life just turned us in separate directions and we all kept moving on without looking back. Now, so much time has passed, I don’t even know who my parents are anymore and I don’t care to know them either.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he says with a look of pity on his face. I don’t want that. I don’t want his pity or anyone else’s. I’m alive and I’m healthy and that’s more than I can say for a lot of people who have been through what I’ve been through.
“Don’t be.” My voice is tight. “It just is what it is.”
“You’re right,” he says. “The past is what it is, but the future can be something else. Only you have the power to make sure it’s more than what it once was.”
I think about what he said for a minute, seeing the truth in his words. “So deep,” I tell him. “How is it possible that you’re only eighteen years old and yet you speak like that?”
He chuckles as he grabs his coffee. “I just think too much. That’s what my brother tells me anyway. He’s always telling me to get me out of my head. He jokes that I look as if I am trying to solve the world's problems with a simple answer.”
That sounds like Rome, always dismissive and never deep. I don’t understand how he and Wilder are twins any more than I can comprehend a tomato being a fruit. “So tell me then, when you’re not dissecting life, what goes through that head of yours?”
He lifts a brow. “You want the truth?”
“I’d rather hear the truth than a lie. So yeah, tell me.”
“All right then.” He takes a more serious note. “It’s you.”
My heart does a little flip-flop. “Me?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Lately, you’re all I think about.”
His words warm my heart in a way I can’t explain. I’ve never experienced a sort of comfort and safety like this with another person. He’s saying everything I’ve always wanted someone to say to me. There’s this ache inside me that tells me to quit pushing him away—to stop fighting this. But my brain is at constant war with my heart. I don’t want him to get hurt, but I can’t seem to let him go either.
“I’m sorry,” he says as he gets to his feet. “I shouldn’t put you in this position. I know it’s uncomfortable for you.”
He goes to step forward, but I stop him by grabbing his hand. “Don’t go.”
Curious eyes look down on me as I hold on to him, reveling in the way his soft hand feels against mine. “I think about you a lot, too.”
There. I said it and I can’t take it back.
Wilder pulls me up from the couch, my heart literally ready to flee from my body. I exhale rapidly through my nose, anxiously awaiting his response.
A wide grin spreads across his face. “You do?”
I nod, biting back a smile. “More than I probably should.”
His arm wraps around me and he touches my forehead to his as he closes his eyes. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. I wasn’t sure if I was imagining whatever this thing is between us.”
It’s hard being vulnerable and it’s especially difficult putting yourself out there for someone you know is off-limits. But is Wilder really off-limits when no one has to know? I like who I am with him and I can’t help the way he makes me feel.
In a moment of honesty, I say, “I thought maybe I was imagining it, too.”
There’s a small part of me that’s wondering if I’m still imagining things. He says he thinks about me, but in what way? The same way he thinks about his friends and family, or someone he has a romantic interest in? Do I give him the same giddy feelings that he’s been giving me? Or am I totally delusional and Wilder is just a student who is worried about his teacher?
Here I am overthinking again. Like Wilder said, this doesn't have to be complicated. Maybe I need to stop making it complicated and just see what happens next instead of trying to plan fifteen steps ahead like I do with Troy. I don’t even know why I try anymore.
Wilder slides down on the couch, pulling me with him and leaving only a scant space between us. “I think we both know this is real,” he says, voice gruff and masculine in a way that has a rush of heat shooting through me. In a slow, deliberate movement he puts his hand on my thigh, just above my knee.
I watch his strong grip, one that makes me feel small, as he caresses me with his fingertips. I feel every stroke. Even with the barrier of my sweatpants, his touch is more real than anything I’ve ever felt.
Not holding back, I give in to the feelings coursing through me and I put my hand over his. “Yeah,” I tell him with a slight nod. With that one word, the door to unknown possibilities opens for us. A heavy weight leaves my shoulders, all my fears and anxieties parting ways because it’s right now that I realize, I don’t want to fight this any longer.
“I like you, Cat,” Wilder says with a grin playing on his lips as he averts his gaze. “I like you a lot and I know you’re married and I’m your student, but I can’t stay away. You’re all I think about anymore.”
His words are everything I wanted and everything I feared wrapped with a shiny bow. Knowing I’m on someone’s mind, keeping them awake and distracting them from other thoughts. I always wanted to be in someone’s thoughts and heart at the same time. Not in an obsessive or possessive way like Troy’s, but in an endearing and thoughtful way like Wilder’s.
“So what now?” I ask him. “I mean, it’s not like this can ever go anywhere.” It hurts to say that out loud but we both know it’s true. And the two of us probably need a healthy dose of reality right now.
His honey brown eyes fix on mine and he reaches out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I think living in the moment is a pretty good start. No plans. No expectations. Just you and me, here and now.”
Brushing his fingers against my cheek, he cradles it in his palm and I lean into him, relaxing against his touch.
“Okay,” I whisper in agreement. “I like that plan.”
More than anything I want to throw myself onto his lap and have him hold me like there is no tomorrow. The desperation to feel his strong arms around me is agonizing.
Then, as if he’s read my mind, he wraps an arm around me and pulls me close. My face nuzzles against his chest and I curl my legs up onto his lap. It’s safe here. I feel untouchable, unbreakable.
I close my eyes, relishing the warmth running through my body. If I could pick a perfect moment in time, it would be this one.
We sit like this for a few minutes, and small talk turns those minutes into hours. Wilder tells me how he got started on his SnapTok account just over a year ago, and the urge to tell him about my account hangs heavy on my mind. I’ll tell him eventually, just not yet.
Our coffees turn cold and the clock keeps ticking, but neither of us get up, we just sit here sharing stories and getting to know one another.
Wilder talks about how he lost his mom his sophomore year of high school, and the pain in his voice when he speaks about it slices through me. I literally feel it for him. I’ve grieved the loss of my parents, but they're still alive so it’s nowhere near the same thing.
The next thing I know, a sliver of daylight is cracking through the blinds. My body jolts upward atthe sight, eyes wide. “Oh no!” I clap a hand over my mouth in a panic. “I have to go home.”
Wilder moves forward on the couch as I stand up. “Whoa,” he says calmly, taking my hand in his. “It’s okay. So we’re gonna be a little tired today. It was worth it.”
He doesn’t understand and now is not the time to try and make him understand. “I need to get home right now. I’ll see you in class, okay?”
I walk toward the door, leaving everything as it is because if I’m not in that house within the next ten minutes, Troy is going to know something’s up, but Wilder stops me. With his hand on my wrist, he pulls me back and spins me around to face him. I look up, finding serenity in his eyes.
“I liked this,” he says with a subtle grin that reveals his deep dimples. “We should do it again sometime.”
Biting the corner of my lip, I nod in response because I one hundred percent want to do this again, but next time I have to be smarter.
Wilder leans down and my heart jumps into my throat, but just when I think his lips are going to land on mine, they move to my cheek in a chaste kiss. “Have a good morning, Kitty Cat,” he mutters, letting his mouth ghost my skin before taking a step back.
“Kitty Cat, huh?” I giggle. “That’s new.”
His face nuzzles into the crease of my neck and he squeezes my body tightly against his. “Came up with it all on my own,” he jokes. “What'd ya think?”
Suppressing a smile, I press my lips together tightly, feeling a swarm of butterflies in my stomach. “At this point, I think you can call me whatever you want and I'll respond.”
Straightening his back, he lets his hands linger on my hips. “In that case, let me call you mine.”
Jaw meet floor! Did he really just say that? We both know that’s not an option, but I’ll play along. “You said living in the moment is a good start, right?” He nods and I continue. “So at this moment, sure. Why not?”
A smile spreads across his face. “Until next time, Kitty Cat.” His lips press to my forehead, then before I can even catch my breath, he’s out the door.
Pressing a hand to the frame, I hold myself up because my knees feel weak and my head feels dizzy. This is absolutely insane, but I’ve never claimed to be levelheaded. The past ten years of my life are proof of that.
Once Wilder is out of the driveway, I haul ass down the trail to my house, leaving everything in the guesthouse as it is. I have plenty of time to clean up before Troy comes home.
I’m going to be dead-ass tired today, but I’d do it again a thousand times over to feel what I feel right now. Now I need coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. And to put on a show for the cameras so that my husband believes I was in our bed all night and not in the arms of another man.