Chapter 1
Chapter One
Wilder
PRESENT DAY
What’s that condition where you’re secretly obsessed with your twin’s ex-girlfriend?
Because whatever that is, I have that.
But Delilah Fanning would never ever be interested in me.
For starters, she can hardly stand me.
By the tongue-lashing she just gave me, she wouldn’t bat an eye if I got run over by a tractor attached to a manure spreader.
In fact, she’d be driving it.
Not that she hates me, per se, but she’s definitely not a fan of my behavior.
Like right now…
“Wilder, I swear to God…” She pinches the bridge of her nose, leaning in closer so I can hear her over the loud music. The smell of her perfume—a mix of something sweet and floral—invades my senses.
People stand at the bar all around us, but when it’s just me and her, they fade away.
“Pace yourself because if you throw up in my brand-new truck, I’ll strip you naked and hogtie your balls until they fall off.”
Jesus Christ.
My balls ache at the visual.
“Delly, baby…” I drawl. Her old nickname slips from my lips, but if she notices, she doesn’t show it. “If you wanna get me naked, just ask.”
“I’ve seen it all…I’m good,” she deadpans, sliding a glass of ice water across the bar toward me.
“’Cuse me? You been spyin’?” I waggle my brows and she rolls her eyes.
“Against my will,” she clarifies, tucking a loose strand behind her ear. “You tend to strip when you’re drunk, and I’ve seen you drunk more times than I can count. So I’d be very careful the next time you show me your pierced dick because it might be the last.”
A smug grin flashes across my face. “You’ve looked at my piercings, huh? You want a private viewin’?” I wink and then take a drink of the water to appease her when she scowls.
The three shots I took before this are barely affecting me.
Kinda.
“Two weeks ago, you streaked through the ranch at four in the mornin’ and then passed out in front of The Lodge. I had to drag your naked ass back to my truck and then lift you up into the seat. So yeah…I saw your piercings…up close and too personal.”
“What about this one?” I flick out my tongue, showing off the piercing there.
“Mm-hmm. Also not impressive.” She steals my water and drinks it as if she’s bored.
“Wait, wait, wait…” I wave out my hands. “Are you callin’ my piercings not impressive?”
Her gaze lowers to my groin before meeting my stare with an evil smirk, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek. “I’m sayin’ the whole package ain’t that impressive.”
My jaw drops at her bald-faced lie.
“Now I know you’re full of shit. Women don’t say they’re Wild for Wilder for nothin’.”
“Don’t make me throw up.” She pretends to gag.
I steal back the glass of water and chug the rest. It’s the weekend before Thanksgiving and the Twisted Bull is packed with college-aged girls in mostly cropped tops and jean skirts.
Most of the guys are in jeans, boots, and Stetson hats, playing the cowboy fantasy even though they’ve never worked on a ranch a day in their lives.
But it’s why Delilah’s glued to my hip because she’s on babysitting my ass duty—her words, not mine. Waylon put her up to it. Anytime he can’t come out, which has been more and more ever since he started dating Delilah’s little sister, he puts her in charge of me.
I should be offended, considering I’m thirty-three years old, but I’d never drink and drive, so it’s a good idea to have a DD. And well, there’s been a few instances of fighting, so now anytime I go out, someone comes with me to make sure I get home safe. And stay out of jail.
I’m not even that drunk tonight, but considering how fucked up I got two weekends ago, it’s best I take it easy. Especially since I don’t even remember that night she’s talking about.
And I don’t want to see the look of disappointment on her face again.
Leaning in closer to her ear, I feel her shiver against me. “I’m ready to go if you are.”
Her brows furrow as she cocks her head. “It’s only midnight.”
I shrug, not really in the mood to drink anymore.
This is when I should admit the new meds I started yesterday aren’t supposed to be mixed with alcohol. Eight months ago, I started going to therapy and stopped having sex and drinking alcohol to get clean and focus on my mental health.
But then three months ago, I started drinking again when the pain got to be too much. It was either drink or cut, so I chose the lesser of two evils.
But I’m still abstinent, so that has to count for something, right?
The last woman I slept with was Jen—my on-again, off-again fling—who I haven’t seen in almost a year. She caught me flirting with her friend, Bethany, who I didn’t know was her friend at the time, and stormed off. She knew we weren’t exclusive or serious and yet she acted like we were.
“I need an alcohol detox,” I admit. “At least for a month.”
That’s how long my psychiatrist told me it’d take for the antidepressants to start working.
So I get to be sober and miserable until then.
I haven’t told anyone that I’m trying them, not because I’m ashamed, but I don’t want to hear their praises or how proud of me they are—at least not until I deserve to.
Therapy has been great, and I consistently attend my appointments, but the sadness still tempts me to self-medicate with cutting and alcohol.
When he suggested trying a low dose for the “seasonal depression” time of year, I agreed.
At this point, I have nothing to lose but myself.
The last thing I want to continue being is a burden on my brother, who’s always been there for me. He’s happy for the first time in years, and I don’t want to take that away from him.
Or anyone else.
“A whole month?” Delilah feigns shock, smacking a hand to her chest. “I’ll be so bored not carryin’ your drunken ass upstairs to your room. Whatever shall I do with all that free time?”
“Just admit you like hangin’ out with me.” I flash her a lopsided grin, but she doesn’t fall for it.
“I might get a life of my own if I’m not always in charge of yours,” she retorts.
And there it is.
Although her tone’s teasing, there’s truth to it.
The guilt wraps around my throat until it cuts off my windpipe, and I choke on it.
Not because she’s wrong, but because Delilah has spent half her life taking care of people, and I hate that she’s been liable for me for the past year. Even though I enjoy spending time with her, it’s not the same if she feels obligated.
Before I stopped drinking the first time, she tagged along for a few months, and then when I started drinking again, she continued without complaint.
Though I’m not sure why.
She doesn’t owe me anything.
But still, she took on the responsibility, and I should relieve her of that.
“Tonight’s the last time you’ll have to babysit me, I promise.”
She arches a brow, genuinely curious. “You’re serious?”
I nod, pulling out my wallet so I can pay the tab.
“At least until Vegas,” I clarify jokingly. “Everyone else will be drinkin’, so it’ll be hard not to.”
Landen’s wife, Ellie, is competing at the National Finals Rodeo in the barrel racing competition in less than three weeks. My entire family is going for a few days, including Delilah, her sister, and their mom.
“But once we’re back, I’ll be sober, so you never have to take care of me again.”
I wave to the bartender and grab her attention. “Ready for my tab, Rainy.”
“So early?” she quips.
“Yep, gotta get home to the wife and kids.”
Delilah nearly chokes on her saliva. “Now I know you’re wasted when you make up a whole fake family.”
I snort. “Oh, c’mon…couldn’t you hear me sayin’ that in twenty years?”
“Twenty? It’s gonna take two more decades for you to settle down, huh?”
“Nah, I’ll probably be single until the day I die.” I shrug dismissively.
Who’s going to want to take on my baggage anyway? I wouldn’t want to give that to anyone. And according to everyone, I can hardly take care of myself, so what business do I have trying to take care of someone else?
“And why’s that, Wilder?” She leans an elbow on the bar, but then some drunk guy crashes into her, spilling his beer on her.
“Oh my God,” Delilah grits between her teeth, lifting her arms when the liquid falls down her low-cut top.
People around us spread out when his beer continues spilling on the floor.
“Hey, asshole,” I shout, shoving him back since he has no concept of personal space. “Watch where you’re goin’!”
“Wilder, stop,” Delilah demands. “It was an accident.”
Those are the last words I hear before the guy swings at me, knocking me square in the jaw.
That was no accident. Motherfucker.
With stars in my eyes, I shove my fist in his gut and he falls to his ass.
“Wilder!” Delilah grabs my arm, yanking me back.
“He hit me first!” I defend, rubbing over the spot he nailed me.
Someone helps the guy back to his feet and then he points a finger in my face, screaming at me. “Let’s finish this outside, ya pussy. Now!”
“Pfft…” I bark out an amused laugh. “Like you know what a pussy looks like.”
He cocks his brow, smirking like a smug son of a bitch. “I’m lookin’ at one now.”
Before I can deck him a second time, Delilah stands between us, and when I try moving her to the side, she jerks her elbow back into my gut.
“Shut the fuck up and get out of his face before I knee you in the dick,” she shouts at him.
My brows pop up at her defending me. It wouldn’t be the first time, but I haven’t seen her this pissed in a hot minute.
“Got your little girlfriend to fight your battles for ya, huh?” He glares at me over her head. “How cute.”
I should be furious at the way he’s taunting me, but I can’t help smiling at the way he called her my girlfriend.
Pfft. I fucking wish.
“She is cute, ain’t she?” I roll my tongue piercing and lick my lips. “You should see how cute she looks when she’s on her knees stuffed with my co—”
“Do not finish that sentence.” Delilah shoots me a murderous glare over her shoulder, but I notice the blush covering her cheeks that wasn’t there earlier.
“Why not, baby doll?” I wink, crossing my arms.