Chapter 19
Safe and Sound – Capital Cities
Tally
I’d been watching the clock without meaning to. So, when the knock came, quiet and unsure, my heart was already racing ahead of me.
I almost missed it under the tones of Chris Stapleton’s ‘Think I’m in Love With You.’. When it became a little more insistent, I rushed to the door. My stomach flipped with anticipation and certainty that it would be him.
“Hey,” I gushed, my eyes desperately searching his for some sign of how his visit had gone. It didn’t take long for me to recognize the look of sadness and defeat. “Come in, come in.”
I ushered him inside, watching as he ambled across the room, hands deep in his pockets. His chin was almost to his chest as he heaved a huge sigh.
“What happened?” Laying a hand on his back, I could practically feel the tension coming from him in waves. “Honey?”
The word was out of my mouth before I could stop it. I didn’t even want to take it back. It felt right. Natural. Wilder didn’t acknowledge it, so I ploughed on.
“Tell me what happened. Did you get what you needed from him?” I lowered my head to look up at him. “Shit, Wilder. What the hell happened?”
Silently he reached for me, pulling me against his chest, enveloping me in his despair. He rested his cheek on the top of my head and breathed me in. Slowly.
“I thought I was done, Brownie,” he whispered. “I thought I got what I needed from him and then he hit me with the sucker punch.”
“What?”
His arms tightened around me, like he couldn’t get close enough. Like he was drowning, and I was the only thing he could cling to in order to survive.
“He told me he wasn’t my dad.”
I inhaled sharply. “He’s lying.”
“You’re so certain,” he scoffed, a slight chuckle lightening the pain I had in my chest or him.
“Come on,” I retorted with humor. “You have the same ego I hear that he has.”
“Please, my ego is all mine, Brownie.”
His body relaxed and his hand made its way under my sweater. A palm, flat against my back, warming my skin like it was basked in sunlight.
“Are you sure he’s telling the truth?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I think I would feel it inside, you know.” A long ragged breath ghosted over my head, like a late summer breeze.
“But he said it, so what does that mean? If it’s a lie why say it?
Does he hate me that much? And if it’s the truth, why say it?
Does he hate me that much?” He took a breath.
“I kept hearing Nash in my head, telling me not to take on his bullshit. But it still got in, somehow.”
My heart felt like it was cracking into tiny pieces for him, all splintering off from a huge crack right down the middle.
“Wilder, you need to speak to your brothers about this.”
“I know,” he whispered. “Not yet. Let me just stay here for a while. Like this.” His arms wrapped further around me as he rocked us slowly from side to side. Moving in time to the music that had changed to Lee Brice’s Rumor. We danced together, and slowly, his body started to relax.
“Being here feels like something I haven’t felt in a long time.” He paused and I waited. Wondering. “Peaceful.”
His words hit me right in the heart. With a crash. A wrecking ball that I couldn’t stop.
“You had dinner yet?” I eventually asked, my voice low, not wanting to spoil the beauty of the moment.
“Nope, came straight from the airport.”
“Want me to cook for you? I was only going to have burgers and salad, but I have plenty.”
He moaned softly, rubbing his cheek against my hair. “Sounds great. I could do with a shower, though.”
Angling back, the weariness in his eyes was clear. “Want me to shower with you. Then we can eat. I have a pair of your sweats and a t-shirt here.”
He frowned. “When did I leave those?”
“About three weeks ago. You were leaving early to drive to Utah.”
“To look at that livestock trailer we were thinking of buying. Which was a piece of crap by the way.”
“Yeah, you brought fresh clothes with you so you could get on the road straight from here. I laundered them.” He didn’t need to know I’d worn the tee to sleep in for two nights.
“You did?”
I nodded. “I did.” Taking his hands in mine, I turned for the bathroom. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”
“So that you can dirty me up again afterward?”
I grinned. “Maybe. Clean, dirty then burgers. How does that sound?”
He sighed and rubbed his thumb along the back of my hand. “Absolutely fucking perfect, baby, absolutely perfect.”
My heart stalled and maybe I was thinking too much into it, but it felt right.
Like peace. There was this Japanese art I'd seen once—Kintsugi—where broken pottery was mended with gold, making the cracks beautiful instead of shameful.
Maybe that was us. Two people with visible damage, somehow beautifully imperfect.