Chapter 22 – Wilder
“So, tell me more about what you’ve been up to in the past five years?
You moved into your parent’s home, took over the majority of the ranch work and are now…
cooking?” Teagan asks with a smile as she continues to eat the pasta I made.
I’m glad she likes it. It’s one of Willow’s favorites that I make almost weekly for her.
“I’ve been working on becoming the best version of myself for Willow. Shortly after you left, I started seeing a therapist in San Angelo who’s focused on grief counseling. It’s been… eye opening.”
She swallows and nods, studying me carefully. “And has that helped?”
“More than I ever anticipated. It allowed me to let go of a lot of the hurt and pain I associated with what happened between Mercedes and I, and to forgive myself for her death. I think it’s made me a better father too.
For the first two years of Willow’s life, it felt like I was just hanging on.
Barely surviving while I tried to navigate being a single father, finding my footing on the ranch and living in my early twenties.
It felt like everyone around me was moving forward, dating, getting engaged, starting families of their own in healthy ways yet I was fumbling in the dark with no light.
Living in my parent’s pool house while my daughter slept in the house next door, I could hardly meet her gaze because I felt like a failure.
I’m so grateful for the support I had from my parents during that time, but I knew something needed to change after you left.
I needed to become the kind of man that she’d look up to someday.
The kind of man that she’d want to marry, and I felt like I was failing her and everyone around me by not getting help. ”
She nods and sets down her fork. “You had a lot thrust on to you at one time. You were doing the best you could but getting help is never a bad idea.”
I nod. “I know that now, but therapy helped me process all those feelings of inadequacy and regret while also coming up with a focused plan to work toward being a better man. It’s been… a journey.”
She smiles genuinely at me, and it feels good to open up to her like this. When we’d been together for that brief weekend, I’d let her do most of the talking and kept the parts of me that I was ashamed of tucked neatly away. Admitting them out loud now is cathartic.
“I can tell. You seem… lighter. Different.”
“A little more verbal?” I joke.
She smiles. “I like the quiet Wilder Cameron too.”
“So should I shut up now?”
She shakes her head and picks up her fork again. “No. Now tell me more about Willow, please.”
The rest of the dinner conversation flows easily as I update Teagan on how things have changed around the ranch and what's new in Lonestar Junction since she left. The city’s been expanding.
Abandoned buildings have been bought up and turned into new shopping centers slowly and new housing developments are cropping up all over town that bring in transplants from the larger surrounding cities like San Angelo and Houston who are looking for refuge and the small-town life that the Hallmark channel likes to sell.
Despite small towns having a bad reputation associated with them at times, I love it here and I can’t imagine living, working or raising my daughter anywhere else in Texas.
“You want any more wine?” I ask, clearing the plates and heading into the kitchen. She follows closely behind and takes a seat on the couch, looking comfortable and like she fits in right here with my home and all my belongings.
“Sure.”
I rinse the dishes in the sink and load them into the dishwasher before refilling her and my glass with the rest of the bottle and walking back over to meet her in the living room.
It feels like there’s a chasm of words still caught between us, one that I don’t know how to cross. The spark is still there for me, just beneath the surface now and I don’t know how to find our way back to what we had that summer years ago.
Now that much of the past five years is out in the open, I want to know everything about who she is now and focus on the present.
A present that I hope includes getting to know me for the first time as the man I’ve become.
A better, much more healed, but constant work in progress version of myself who is a single father to a seven-year-old and a cowboy down to his core.
“Do you still play?” she asks, gesturing towards the guitar I have propped in the corner of the room.
“I do but mostly just for myself, or Willow, if she asks. Occasionally, Cody needs a fill in for his band, so I’ve gone with him a couple of times while Willow stays with my parents.
He’s going on tour next summer and there are a few concerts his lead guitarist can’t make so I may get to do some more traveling then.
I feel better about it now that Willow’s older. ”
“He’s making a name for himself in the country music world?”
I nod. “He seems much happier now that he’s out of professional football.
Don’t get me wrong, he was good, great even, but I think he knew it wasn’t where he wanted to be long term.
The career sort of fell into his lap which is ironic since that’s the same thing that happened with his music.
He’s been on the road a lot more than usual lately which he says gets lonely at times, but he seems happy. ”
She nods. “Have you written anything new lately? I remember those notebooks you had lining your wall in the pool house. I’m assuming those were lyrics?”
I smile and nod, the memory of that night we spent together feels fresh in my mind.
She’d stumbled across the songs I used to write and though Cody hadn’t been an artist at the time, they’d been a way for me to process my pain when I didn’t have an outlet or the skills to know how to make peace with my past. Writing music had been my therapy and it was something I still turned to when the emotions needed a way to leave my body.
“I just finished a song, actually.”
Her eyes widen. “Are you planning on giving it to Cody to use?”
“I don’t think so, though I’ve done that with a few of the ones that I’ve written in the past. This one’s personal. Do you want to hear it?”
She nods eagerly as she tucks her legs under her butt and sinks back into the cushions of the couch.
I grab the guitar and hook the strap around my neck as I return to where she’s seated.
Strumming gently, I begin to sing a song I started writing seven years ago, after coming to terms with the loss of Mercedes.
The song, intended for Willow, expresses my deep love for her and my determination to be the father she needs though I don't know what I'm doing.
It speaks of watching over her as she sleeps, praying not to mess things up, and always wanting the best for her.
I named the song 'Willow’ and sing it to her every year on her birthday but this is the first year that I finally finished it.
Teagan's eyes remain locked on mine the entire time I sing, and it feels like every barrier between us dissolves along with the words.
Time, space, and distance seem to vanish as I finish the song and close my eyes.
When I reopen them, I see tears glistening in the corners of hers.
She quickly wipes them away, still watching me.
“Wilder… that was beautiful. Willow is so lucky to have you as her father.”
I set down the guitar, my eyes never breaking from hers.
“It’s her favorite one I’ve ever written.”
She nods. “I can see why. You’ve done a good job with her. I know I haven’t seen you two together much, but I could tell today in the clinic… she practically glows with the love that’s surrounding her life.”
Those words hit me harder than anything most women have ever said to me.
I’ve never been the type who needs compliments about my looks or my work ethic, and I sure as hell don’t go searching for them.
But when someone praises my daughter—tells me how happy she seems, how well-spoken and secure she is—it feels like the best damn thing in the world.
Because Willow is my everything. For seven years now, she’s been my reason for every decision I’ve made, a piece of my heart walking around outside of my chest. It’s terrifying and beautiful in equal measure, and I can’t imagine my life without being her dad.
“Thank you,” I rasp, my voice thick with emotion as I meet her gaze.
She’s scared, I can see it in her eyes. This thing that’s still between us is palpable.
It’s still there. I can feel it. I know now that we met too soon but maybe it was the right time all along.
She’s seen two versions of me and things have changed.
We’ve changed. If she can love me through both of them, then I think we have a shot.
I reach for her hand, touching it gently as I stroke the smooth skin on the back of it, waiting for permission.
She’s so soft, just like I remember. All tan skin, soft angles, pretty lips and round eyes.
And though I thought I’d be able to forget her beauty, I’ve never been able to put that summer in the past.
“You’ve somehow gotten even more beautiful,” I whisper confidently to her.
Her chest is rising rapidly now, our faces are only inches apart.
She still looks conflicted, and I don't want to push her, but I want to taste her, to show her that I want her back more than anything.
My hand grips her wrist, guiding her easily onto my lap until her legs are straddling my hips on either side as she sinks on to me like she knows exactly where she belongs.
My hand slides up along her forearm, gliding over her shoulder before coming to rest at the nape of her neck. Gently, I draw her closer, our foreheads pressing together as our breaths mingle, our lips just a millimeter apart.
"If you don’t stop me, I’m going to kiss you," I murmur, my voice low and thick with want.
She nods, her eyes brimming with nerves but there’s no hesitation there anymore and that’s all the permission I need.
Our lips meet firmly, and it feels like the world narrows to just this moment.
My tongue teases at her lips, coaxing her to open for me, and when she does, I slide inside, savoring the familiar warmth.
She tastes of red wine and summertime—rich, intoxicating, and bittersweet.
The taste carries me back to a memory of us sprawled on a blanket beneath the sun, me gliding in and out of her while a storm rolls in the distance as she cries out my name.
I harden beneath her, her weight on my lap only stoking the fire burning low in my gut that wants to take her again.
But then she pulls back, her lips are swollen, her breath coming in soft, uneven gasps, and I see it again, something that’s still holding her back.
Something unspoken lingering in her eyes, keeping me from pulling her completely into my world.
“Did you cancel your date on Thursday?” I ask.
She shakes her head, “I haven’t.”
“I understand,” I respond because I do. I came into her life unexpectedly, and perhaps she feels like she needs to see this other thing through.
She’s still straddling my hips and isn’t making any indication that she's ready to separate.
I gently rock her backwards then forwards, the movement pressing down on to my solid cock.
I watch her eyes carefully, willing her to stop me at any moment but she doesn't. Instead, she lets out a little moan as she grinds down harder like she can’t get enough.
I reach around, squeezing her ass cheeks in those tight jeans and bring her forward again, helping her get friction exactly right on that bundle of nerves just below the surface that I know has to be aching with need right now.
She rocks back and forth harder as her hands wrap around my neck, holding her chest tightly to mine.
I want to show her the ways that I’ve grown and matured as a lover.
To taste her. To have her come all over my tongue but I don't push it, waiting for her to give me permission.
She wraps her arms even tighter around my neck as she pushes down again, her moans turning louder and her movements becoming more frantic.
“Fuck Wilder,” she groans. It’s jean on jean but still feels better than I've allowed myself to feel in a long time with a woman.
“Let me help you,” I whisper. She nods, her fingers fumble for the button on her Levis before she lifts her hips, allowing me to slip them from her waist until she’s in just a pair of pink lacy panties, grinding down on top of me.
Fuck me...
I fist her bare ass cheeks and squeeze harder, forcing her forward and back as she moans against my neck.
I go to reach inside of the lacy band, my fingers aching to slip inside of her wet heat again, to feel that tight cunt wrap around me warmly, when suddenly she freezes her movements and drops her head firmly on my shoulder.
“Fuck,” she groans, her breathing quickening before she lets out a sigh. My fingers are frozen in the strap of her panties waiting for her to continue but she doesn’t and then I realize, she’s already finished on top of my jeans.
“Did you...did you just come?” I ask, shocked.
Her head pops up with an embarrassed smile, her cheeks are flushed pink, and she looks beautiful just like this.
Wrapped in my arms, no pants on, post orgasmic bliss.
“Um… maybe. It’s been a while. God, that’s never happened to me before.
” She places her hands over her face to try to shield my gaze.
I throw my head back and laugh then take her fingers and slowly peel them away so that I can get a good look at her again. “That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.”
“Sorry,” she apologizes as I shake my head and kiss her lips gently.
“There’s no need to apologize. That’s what I’m here for,” I respond, as she climbs off my hips and points down to my erection pressing through my jeans.
“No, I’m really sorry, Wilder.”
I shake my head. “We got time, Teagan. We got plenty of time to catch up. Come on, it’s getting late. Let me drive you home.”
Because though I’d love more than anything for her to spend the night, I know I have to take this slow. And I also know now that Teagan and I are going to make it just fine.