Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Wilder
Mom
Don’t forget volunteer registration is at 6 tonight. Don’t be late!
Wilder
I know and won’t be.
Mom
Good. Drive safe.
Wilder
Thanks, Ma. I will.
M y first full day working the stud farm wasn’t as bad as I expected. Our stud, Rocky, only tried to kick me once and luckily he missed or I’d be down a testicle.
Breeding season is over and the mares went back to their owners. The only thing for me to do besides take care of Rocky’s needs is focus on online sales by collecting, evaluating, and processing his semen for shipment.
It’s boring and weird as fuck—and definitely not my first choice of ranch duties—but hell, I’ve done worse.
The only thing that got me through the day was knowing I’d get to see Delilah, even if for a few minutes. She works till five, so I’ll be cutting it close, but I’m hoping to catch her before she leaves the store.
Although she’s not ready to discuss what happened between us this past weekend, I hope she will eventually. Until then, I’ll play her little game of not talking about it.
Since it’s a forty-five-minute drive to the shelter, I leave an hour early. By the time I get to the store, it’s a few minutes past five, but her truck is still in the parking lot.
“Hi, welcome to Lacey’s,” one of the workers greets with a smile. “Lookin’ for yourself or the misses?”
“Uh…” I scrub a hand over my jawline. “Is Delilah around?”
“That depends.” She crosses her arms. “Are you a reporter?”
“No.” I lift my Stetson so she can get a better view of my face. “I’m Wilder Hollis. A friend of hers.”
“Ohh, right.” She snaps her fingers. “The cop puncher.”
I wince, waiting to see how she reacts.
“You just missed her,” she continues. “She left with some guy.”
My heart slams into my chest. “Who?”
She shrugs, messing around with random items behind the counter. “No idea. I came in for my shift and then they left.”
“You don’t know where they went?”
“She didn’t say, but they took a right out the door, if that helps.”
“Okay, thanks.” I rush outside and debate if I should call her or not, but when I get down the block, I see her through the large café window.
She’s sitting at a table with a man across from her. They each have a cup in front of them, smiling and laughing.
I growl, hating how jealous I am. As much as I want to barge in there and rip off the guy’s head, I can’t risk causing another scene that’ll get me thrown in jail.
Getting closer, I continue watching him, vaguely recognizing him and trying to place from where.
And then it hits me.
You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me .
Why the hell would she go for coffee with the guy who spilled beer down her shirt and hit me?
That’s fucked up.
Even more fucked up she didn’t mention it to me when we texted this morning.
Before I can stop myself, I reach for the door and whip it open.
Delilah’s already on her feet when I enter, staring at me like a deer in headlights.
My gaze shifts to the man behind her and my jaw clenches.
“Wilder.” She steps closer, seemingly calm, but the grip on her iced coffee is tight as she holds it close to her body. “Let’s talk outside.”
“Delilah, wait?—”
She spins around but inches back as he approaches.
“Don’t,” I warn him.
He holds up his palms in mock surrender. “Relax, I’m not gonna do anything.”
“Sorry, Jonah. I have to go.” The remorse in her voice has me even more confused.
Delilah turns and shoves me through the door. She stays silent as we walk toward the parking lot.
“Delilah…are you gonna say anything?” I ask before we approach her truck.
She finally looks at me. “What’re you doing here? I thought you had registration.”
“I was stoppin’ in to see you quickly. Your coworker said you and some guy went downtown, so…”
She crosses her arms, leaning against the door. “So what?”
“I went to find you and see who you were with…” I shrug. “I was worried.”
“Wilder, I can take care of myself.”
“I’m aware, but why would you meet up with that guy of all people? He’s the reason Wesley smelled beer on you.”
She blows out a breath, dropping her arms. “He stopped by the store yesterday to apologize. When he asked to take me out, I suggested going for coffee instead. But it wasn’t a date. We were going as friends.”
I snort, lifting my hat to scrub a hand through my hair. “As friends? Did he know that?”
“Yes,” she drawls, less than amused at my accusations. “You and I hang out as friends, so what’s the big deal?”
“No…” I say firmly. “We’re not friends. The moment your lips touched mine and I got a taste of you, we stopped being just friends .”
“Wilder,” she mutters softly, dropping her gaze.
“Yeah, I know you don’t wanna talk about it, but I do.”
“You’re gonna be late.”
I scoff. “I don’t fuckin’ care.”
I’ll apologize for it when I get there, but I’d rather stay here and talk this out if she’s willing.
“It’s part of your probation!” She shoves me lightly. “You need to go.”
I grab her wrist before she pulls away, then lean in closer. “Gimme one good reason why we can’t be more than friends.”
Her gaze locks on mine as I tower over her. “We’d be toxic together.”
Arching a brow, my spine straightens, and I release my hold on her. “Toxic how?”
“Our siblings are datin’ and our lives are too intertwined. It’d make things awkward if we broke up. One or both of us will end up hurt. And it’s not like we could avoid each other forever. Then what?”
“Who says we’d break up?”
“You’ve never been in a serious relationship, so what makes you think we could make one work with all the history between us?”
The history neither of us has ever brought up.
Stepping closer, I close the gap between us and rest my forehead against hers, defeated. With a deep sigh, I respond, “That’s exactly how I know it would…but I guess you’re not ready to have that conversation either.”
My heart hammers so loud with anger and frustration, I wouldn’t be shocked if she hears it when I storm away.
I arrive at the shelter five minutes late, but Miss Tierney waves me off when I apologize for my tardiness. She greets me with a smile and brings me back to the office.
“Even though this is part of your probation hours, we have rules we expect everyone to follow.”
“Yes, ma’am. Whatever you need me to do. I’m not here to cause any trouble,” I reassure her.
She furrows her brows when I call her ma’am, but she’s probably in her late thirties, five to seven years older than me if I had to guess. But she knows my mom from the local 4-H program where Landen helps some of the kids with riding and roping lessons. She’s one of the moms of a boy he’s trained.
She goes through their rules and expectations. This is one of the larger shelters in the state and it’s always at capacity. I’m ashamed to say I’ve never volunteered at one before, so even though this is for my community service mandate, I’m glad I’m here to help.
“You’re gonna start in the back of the kitchen. Once you get a feel for things, you could get moved to the front. People who come here are in a vulnerable condition and are used to certain volunteers, so that’s why it’s a gradual change when we add in new people.”
“No problem. I don’t mind helpin’ in the kitchen. Whatever you need,” I say genuinely.
“Perfect!” she beams. “Fill out this paperwork and then I’ll give you a tour.”
Miss Tierney introduces me to some of the staff members as well as the volunteers who come on a regular basis. Most are older, in their sixties and seventies, but they glare at me like I’m in an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs.
Miss Tierney must’ve told them why I was coming ahead of time.
She shows me around the kitchen, gives me the basics on the tasks I’ll be doing, and then she brings me back to the office.
“Me or another supervisor have to sign off on your hours after each shift. So make sure you find someone before you leave for the day. I know you work long hours at the ranch, so I scheduled you for Saturday and Sunday afternoons. You’ll work through dinner prep and meal cleanup, then you’re free to go.”
Perhaps it’s a good thing Dad made Landen and me switch jobs since there’s less work on the stud farm and I can take the weekends off to be here.
“Sounds good. I’ll see you in four days, then.”
Standing, she takes my hand and shakes it. “Regardless of the reason, I’m glad you’ll be here. Your natural charm will make the women feel more comfortable around you.”
I involuntarily blush and grin at her compliment. “Uh, thanks?”
Though I hadn’t considered that a man working in a shelter for women and children would raise concerns, I can understand why. Who knows what they’ve gone through and the last thing I’d want to do is make any of them uneasy.
She snickers, patting my arm. “You’re welcome. We’ll see you Saturday at four.”
When I get to my truck, I check my phone and am disappointed when I don’t see any notifications from Delilah. Not that I expected her to text, but I hate how unresolved things feel between us, and I’d hoped she’d want to talk.
The forty-five-minute drive home helps clear my head some more, but I’m craving a beer while I process everything. I know it’s one of my coping mechanisms, however, some days I need it to push the overwhelming thoughts roaming through my head.
Fortunately, or maybe unfortunately, there’s no beer or liquor in my fridge. I stopped buying it regularly when I went sober the first time, and then only went back to social drinking when I started up again.
Too bad I don’t have any of Gramma Grace’s pot cookies.
Once I’m home, I hop in the shower since I didn’t have time before registration. I changed out of my work clothes and cleaned up the best I could, but now I’m craving the scalding-hot water on my skin.
My therapist calls it a form of self-destructive behavior. It’s an alternative to cutting but without the fear of bleeding out. It’s a way for me to regulate my emotions while replicating the relief I used to get.
Sometimes I’ll do ice-cold showers instead, usually if I’m hungover and have to go to work, but I’ll stay under the water until my skin feels like it’s frostbitten.
It’s not a healthy mechanism, by any means, but it’s the least damaging out of the others I’ve done.
Stepping in, I suck in a breath when the scorching water beads against my back, but I embrace the discomfort. Instead of feeding into the bad thoughts, my mind focuses on the pain while I wash my body and hair. When I change the spray pattern to a pulsating pressure, I let it drum hard against my chest until I can’t take it any longer.
By the time I get out, steam consumes the bathroom. When I wipe the mirror, I examine my body before wrapping myself in a towel. The temperature isn’t hot enough to cause scars but standing underneath it for more than ten minutes would do some temporary damage. After giving myself blisters a few years ago, I knew not to stay under it longer than that.
Since I didn’t eat dinner and The Lodge is closing soon, I make a few ham and cheese sandwiches. It’s pretty much the only thing I can ‘cook’ without setting off my smoke alarm.
I plop down on my couch in ripped lounge pants and set my paper plate of sandwiches on my bare stomach. With one foot propped up on my coffee table, game highlights playing on the TV, and a bottle of Coke next to me, I feel as pathetic as I must look.
Halfway through my second sandwich and doom scrolling on my phone, Delilah’s name pops up with a text.
I hate how fast I click on it and how her messaging me first kicks up my heart rate.
Delilah
How’d registration go?
Not wanting to come off too eager, I act indifferent that she’s asking me.
Wilder
Fine.
Delilah
When do you start?
Wilder
Saturday. I’ll work every weekend until I hit my hours.
Delilah
You’re gonna stay busy.
Wilder
Seems that way.
Delilah
You left before I could tell you…but you can’t blow up and overreact.
What the fuck now?
Setting my plate down on the table, I sit up with my elbows on my knees.
Wilder
What is it?
Delilah
Right before you arrived, I found out Jonah’s sister is married to Wesley. Based on what Jonah told me, I think he’s the one Wesley was watching at the Twisted Bull.
Wilder
Jesus Christ.
Which means it’s possible Jonah knows I’m the one who slept with his sister and could potentially use Delilah to get back at me.
Delilah
If what Wesley said about the drugs is true, then he could be talking about Jonah. I didn’t know if his true intention was to apologize or something else, so I told him I had to go.
I stare at the screen, my jaw locking and teeth grinding hard. That dipshit being related to Wesley makes this more twisted and fucked up. But I can’t react with guns blazing so she doesn’t know how heated this news makes me.
Wilder
You need to stay away from him.
Delilah
Already planned on it. I’m not trusting anyone I don’t know considering that damn article.
Wilder
Good.
I don’t know what else to say at this point. Probably why it takes her a few minutes to reply.
Delilah
Anyway…just wanted to tell you in case you saw him again. Better to be safe than sorry and keep your distance. The last thing you need is him antagonizing you on purpose.
Wilder
Duly noted.
If I see Jonah again, I’m putting my fist through his face for the ripple effect he caused.
Consequences be damned.
Delilah
I was startled to see you at the cafe after I’d just found out, so I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.
Wilder
Not surprised since you don’t wanna talk about a lot of things.
Yeah, I’m still butt hurt about it. Not because I can’t take rejection, but she’s the only woman I’ve caught feelings for, and I’m so goddamn tired of hiding them. The more I see and talk to her, the harder it gets to keep my distance.
But then getting to kiss and touch her? It’s a miracle I haven’t dropped to my knees to beg her to give me a chance. I understand why she’s hesitant, but I wish she’d let me prove her wrong.
Delilah
That’s not fair. I already told you…I haven’t felt like myself since my dad died and getting involved when I’m struggling this much wouldn’t be fair to you. It wouldn’t be a real shot. There’d be too much on the line if it went south. So for now, can you just forget it happened and go back to the way things were before that night?
Wilder
I’m afraid I can’t forget it, Delly. But I’ll respect your decision and won’t bring it up again unless you do. Maybe time apart will help me get over my feelings because seeing you only makes me remember that you want me too.
I hate how dramatic that sounds, especially for me. But after nine years of what I thought was one-sided pining, I can’t go back to pretending my feelings don’t exist.
Delilah
Time apart? What’s that mean?
Wilder
It means, the next time we’ll see each other will be in Vegas…assuming I’m allowed to go.
Delilah
Are you sure that’s necessary? That’s not for three more weeks.
Wilder
I have therapy and community service to focus on anyway.
Plus, I start anger management in two days and will have to go every Thursday for two months. Then it’ll switch to every other Thursday until my review hearing.
It takes her a while to respond. The jumping dots appear and go away several times before she finally hits send.
Delilah
Fine. If that’s what you want…
I roll my eyes because I knew she’d say that. It’s a cop-out, but I didn’t give her much room to argue anyway.
Wilder
It’s not what I want but it’s what I need to do.
I’ve been able to suppress my feelings for years because I never thought she’d return them. However, knowing she does but won’t do anything about it means I need to try getting over her for good. I’ll never be able to move on otherwise.