26. Reed #2
One of his boots is pressed against the edge of my seat, beneath the table that separates us, invading my space while still somehow keeping his distance.
It’s the same thing he has done for the last two weeks, been in my personal space, but ensuring he doesn’t actually touch me.
Either he doesn’t know he’s doing it, or he can’t help himself, and I’m not sure which is worse.
The rest of the team sits scattered around the cabin, Mr. Miles and Laura are coordinating schedules on the other side of the jet.
Sid and Jess are sleeping at the back, and Knox and Beckett are silently playing chess beside us.
The next two weeks are going to be chaotic once race week officially starts, but before any of that, we have a few days to have fun and explore.
Sounds great, right? Except for some insane reason I agreed to go with the guys to meet up with Wilder’s cousins.
They are flying in from the states with their friend, to visit Wilder and the guys and catch up, and apparently Caden Miles has secured us some kind of luxury lodge to reside in.
I’m not sure what’s worse, being in mixed company where I won’t be able to relax, or being stuck on the side of a mountain with Wilder Miles.
For some reason that feels less like a relaxing Swedish getaway, and more like psychological torture.
“You’ve been staring out that window for the last twenty minutes,” Wilder says lazily, pulling my attention to him like a moth to a flame, and his eyes are already fixed on mine.
“And you’ve apparently been staring at me,” I snap, my anxiety and our new found stalemate getting the better of me, and his mouth twitches.
“What can I say?” he shrugs casually. “It’s a prettier view.”
Heat creeps up my neck instantly and I hate that he notices, which of course he does, he always notices.
Things may have returned to normal with us, or whatever our sense of normal is, but his eyes are still always tracking me.
I watch them now as they follow the blush that spans its way up my throat.
My hands flex on the table between us and once again, like a magnet, his eyes find the ring that is still sitting on my right hand.
Across the aisle, Matteo groans dramatically from behind his designer sunglasses. He’s pissed as hell that he had to join us on this peasant jet. His words, not mine, but Wilder said it made sense for us all to be together, considering as soon as we land we will be meeting up with the guys.
“For fuck’s sake, can you two just fuck again already? My dick is constantly hard and confused listening to whatever this is.” He gestures vaguely in our direction, his voice firm enough to travel across to us, but not enough that he can be heard by anyone other than the five of us.
I see a smirk tug at the corner of Beckett’s mouth as he pretends not to be listening.
I know the two of them are aware something happened, hard not to with Matt around, plus they did catch us sleeping side by side on the yacht in Greece.
It doesn’t matter that neither Wilder nor I have confirmed anything, they’re not stupid.
Still, it doesn’t stop heat from rushing to my cheeks, and Wilder’s carefree smile disappears instantly as he glares at Matteo. “Cierra tu puta boca,” he spits in Spanish, but whatever he says only makes Matt laugh.
Before he can respond, he is cut off by the head of the cabin crew announcing we are about to land. Moving my stare back to Wilder, I smile softly in appreciation, before moving my focus back to the window, which is clearly the only safe option while I’m in his vicinity.
It isn’t long before we are on the ground and taxiing toward one of the private gates.
Laura confirmed to Wilder an hour ago that his family had already landed and were waiting for us, and for some reason apprehension burns inside of me.
We wait for the plane to stop, then grab our bags and start to deplane.
For the first time ever, Wilder genuinely looks happy to be getting off in a new destination, and somehow I know it hasn’t got anything to do with Sweden or the EWC, and everything to do with his family reunion.
We are ushered through a quick customs check and into the arrivals area, where I instantly spot two people who I could pin as Wilder’s cousins anywhere.
Sure, I have seen the odd picture of the twins when I was looking into Wilder and his background, but they are more striking in person.
They are joined by two other people, one of whom is most definitely Camden Miles, Mr. Miles’s twin brother, and a younger guy who I can only presume is Wilder’s friend Bobby.
“Wild!” One of the twins calls at the sight of him, barrelling toward him with nothing but calm confidence, shoving his cousin roughly before pulling him in for a tight hug. “Fuck it’s good to see you.”
From everything Wilder has told me, I know instantly that this is Casper Miles, wonder boy of The Academy and the next Miles, who will no doubt be making PRI history next year when he joins the league.
“Yeah? Missed me kicking your ass?” Wilder asks, slapping his back, his smile so genuine and carefree now that it makes my heart ache as I watch him.
It’s not the cocky smirk he gives reporters, or the arrogant grin he throws at rivals.
No, this one is real, and clearly only reserved for those who are important to him.
Casper scoffs. “Please, this European air must be making you lose your memory, dear cousin, because we all know who holds all the records back home.”
At his back, standing firm like a shadow, is an almost identical version of him.
Except he looks calmer, more in control, dangerous somehow, but I can’t put my finger on why.
His hair is darker than Casper’s, if that’s even possible, and his eyes are far more assessing than Wilder’s.
Something tells me that he doesn’t have a calm or carefree bone in his body, no, everything about him screams pure chaos.
This is most definitely Caden Miles.
He doesn’t look happy to be here or see Wilder.
In fact, he looks like he doesn’t care whether every single one of us drops dead at his feet, but then his gaze snaps to his brother.
It moves like a magnet, like Casper is an extension of his very soul, and only then do I see a flicker of emotion in his soulless eyes.
It’s an unnerving look, one I have seen somewhere before, but can’t pinpoint who or what they remind me of.
When his stare meets mine, I see a flash of recognition, gone too quickly for me to even be sure that’s what it was, but he cocks his head to the side slightly, as if assessing me.
Wilder pulls back from Casper, finally noticing Caden staring at me, before he steps in between us and blocks his view.
“Cade,” Wilder nods, the only greeting the two of them bother to share, just as the third guy finally joins us. “Bobby, you still look miserable from putting up with all his shit. Good to see nothing’s changed.”
Bobby flips him off instantly. “Nice to see your personality is still unbearable, superstar.”
“Aw, come on now, you know you missed me,” Wilder teases, just as Casper finally follows his twins stare toward me.
“Well, well, well,” he says, dragging the words out. “So this is the man responsible for trying to make you look good,” he teases, moving his stare between me and his cousin.
“I didn’t need the help,” Wilder grunts.
“I thought you said nobody likes a liar,” I cut in without thinking, and for the first time I see a slight smirk tugging at the corner of Caden’s mouth.
Casper however, grins widely. “What’s a guy got to do to pry you away from this moody asshole, and have you come work for me instead? I promise I’m a good boy,” he drawls with a wink, and I see the Miles DNA in him perfectly.
Both cocky and charming, and knows how to wield it as a weapon.
“When have you ever been a good boy?” Knox cuts in, brushing past me to slap his friend on the shoulder. “Did you miss us?” he asks, Beckett joining them both, and Casper rolls his eyes.
“Yeah, like a hole in the head.”
“Aw, don’t be like that,” Beckett says dryly. “We brought you gifts.”
Casper perks up instantly at that. “Alcohol?” he asks, but Beckett is already shaking his head with a knowing smile.
“Swedish supermodels,” Knox corrects, making Casper’s eyes widen, but then darken with curiosity.
“Even better.”
The group dissolves into overlapping conversation after that, the kind that only exists between people who have known each other forever.
Wilder slides naturally back into them like he belongs there, shoulder checking Casper when he talks too much, ignoring Bobby’s insults with practiced ease, while Caden lingers slightly apart from the chaos, watching everything with quiet calculation.
And somehow, despite barely speaking, he notices everything, including me.
I feel it more than once as we move through the private terminal, his gaze catching on me before shifting away again.
Not suspicious exactly, more like intrigue, like he’s trying to solve something, but I’m not sure what.
When we reach the SUVs idling by the curb waiting for us, the guys all say goodbye to the rest of the team, while I linger alone until Matt joins me.
Caden ushers Wilder into one of the SUVs, while the rest move to the second one, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world, leaving space only in the first one.
“Is he as bad as he looks?” I ask, and I don’t have to look at Matt to know he is smirking.
“Nah,” he sighs, tossing his arm around my neck and leading me to the SUV. “He’s much worse than that.”
It’s only then I realize who Caden’s soulless eyes remind me of.
My father’s.