Chapter 26
Wild
M y hand raps against the thick wood door with the brass H6 above the peephole. After dropping Ind off at my sister’s place, I came straight here.
I should have called or texted Carson before I decided to just show up. When I glanced around the parking lot, I didn’t see his truck where he usually parks, but maybe he’s here. If not, I guess I’ll go bum around town while I wait for Ind.
Placing my hand up to knock again, I freeze midway as the door swings open.
“Not you, too…” he lets out a sigh. “Game night is tomorrow. I only have two days off. Can’t I have one of them to myself?” Carson huffs and steps back for me to enter the apartment.
“A little colder than the welcome I was anticipatin’,” I respond, walking into his living room. “What crawled up your ass this fine mornin’?”
Carson is a dick eighty percent of the time, but he seems a lot more crotchety lately. Probably just needs another tattoo. The guy’s arms are completely covered in black and gray designs—all the way from his shoulder blades down to his wrists. Sometimes, I think the guy has some kind of twisted addiction to the pain.
When I walk in further, the large, open floor plan allows me to see that we aren’t the only ones here.
“Hey, little brother.” Cal nods in my direction from under his black ball cap. His beard has gotten thicker now that he’s stopped trimming it.
“You guys partyin’ without me?” I ask my brother, who sits at the kitchen table.
“No,” Carson deadpans. “Apparently, I’m hostin’ a daycare for grown-ass men. Did you just invite everyone to my place or what?” he asks, shooting a look at Cal.
“No one invited me,” I offer. “I just need to kill some time while I wait for Ind. She’s hangin’ out with Wren for a while. I was really bankin’ on you bein’ home,” I laugh as I walk farther into the apartment and take a seat across from Cal at the glass kitchen table.
Carson grunts in response, and I hear Cal let out a small laugh. Anyone else would take offense to one of their best friends acting this way upon their arrival, but I’ve known this guy practically my whole life—this is normal for him. When he has things going on that he doesn’t want to talk about, his bark becomes a little more aggressive. We learned a long time ago, though, to leave him be; he’ll come around when he’s ready.
“What are you doin’ here?” I direct my attention to my brother again. “I’m shocked to see you so far away from your pregnant wife.” I reach into the wooden bowl of fruit in the middle of the table and grab an orange.
Cal lets out a deep sigh. “Luce said I needed to get out and do somethin’,” he says, rolling an orange in his palm. “I tried goin’ to work with her, but she wasn’t havin’ it. Said I needed to get out and do somethin’ without her. Buncha horse shit,” he mumbles.
“I’m proud of you,” I nod. “I’m gonna put a gold star on your chart.”
“My what ?” Cal questions with a pinched brow. “You do not have a damn chart…”
I say nothing; just keep up the shit-eating grin.
Cal’s face falls. “Oh my God.”
When he realizes I’m serious, his hand covers his face and Carson lets out what I’m sure is a laugh.
“I was bored.” I shrug. “Decided to make you a nice little chart. I spent a good chunk of time on it. When you reach the end, you get a prize.”
He shakes his head incredulously. “I know I shouldn’t entertain the dumb things you do, and I’ll probably regret askin’, but now I’m curious… What’s the prize?”
“Guess you’ll have to fill it up and find out,” I reply smugly.
“Jesus Christ, Wild,” Cal laughs, shaking his head. “The stupid shit you do.”
You don’t even know the half of it.
“Well,” Carson pulls another seat out at the head of the table and looks between us. “Now I guess it’s my job to entertain you pussy-whipped fuckers?”
“Guess it is,” I laugh, peeling the strips of orange peel off and placing them on the tabletop in front of me—the sweet, citrusy smell now heavy all around me as the cold dusting of mist releases from the fruit, coating my fingers.
Carson stands and walks over to the fridge. He peers inside and pulls a beer out, popping the cap off.
“You assholes want one?” He holds the drink up in question.
“I’m good.”
“I’ll take one.”
Cal and I respond at the same time.
The sound of Cal’s cap popping off the top of the bottle is smooth and quick.
“Grab some cards or somethin’,” Cal says, setting his drink down. “I can’t just sit here and stare at you asshats for hours.”
How the hell am I friends with these assholes?
“Someone not gettin’ enough marital coitus?” I tease Cal.
He sends me a look, letting me know he’s already plotted seven ways to murder me without even getting out of his chair.
“More than ever before, actually. But I’m not talkin’ about my wife like that. Change the subject.”
Jesus, these two are a bowl of fucking sunshine today.
Carson retrieves a deck of cards and deals them out to us. We play a few hands, and the conversation stays light. We mostly talk about work and potential plans to go ice fishing up in Alaska with our dad. But my mind is only in one place the entire time. No matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to think of anything else.
“I think I’m in love with her,” I confess.
Carson and Cal both slowly pull the beer bottles from their mouths.
“What’s that now?” Cal says with a furrowed brow, leaning in like he didn’t hear me.
Carson puts the bottle back to his lips, shaking his head as he takes another swig.
“In love with who? I ain’t seen you with anyone in months. And I sure as hell ain’t seen you with the same person more than a time or two. That’s a little fast to be in love,” Cal says, studying me.
“Indie,” I respond.
Carson spits the mouth full of liquid across the table and lets out a choked cough.
“Come again?” he says, tilting his head and wiping at his bottom lip.
“I’m not gonna go into all the details,” I pause, looking between them.
“ Thank God ,” Carson mutters.
“But I wanted you guys to know that I’m doin’ this. She’s a stubborn ass, but I know she wants this too. It’s just gonna be tough gettin’ her to stop fightin’ it.”
“Man, you Beckett’s and your damn feelin’s.” Carson shakes his head, tipping his bottle and taking a long pull.
Cal rolls his eyes at his best friend and turns back to me. “You better know what the hell you’re doin’, Wild… Wren and Lucy will kick both our asses if you hurt that girl or do anything to fuck up our group. And then I’ll kick your ass for upsettin’ my wife.” The intense look in Cal’s eyes leaves no room for doubt that he is serious about that threat.
“I’d never hurt her,” I reply.
“That’s not what I heard,” Carson jumps in.
“That was teenage shit. There was a lot of misunderstanding in there, and besides, we are both grown adults now. We both matured and changed a lot over the years.”
“Right,” Cal laughs. “You only fight any time you breathe the same air.”
I know he’s right. But that’s just us; we bicker. I know I love it, and she does, too. Her fire is everything I need.
“Well, I ain’t lookin’ for anyone’s approval. Just lettin’ y’all know.” I pop the last piece of orange slice into my mouth.
Standing from the table, I walk into the kitchen and toss my orange peels into the trash.
I’m not going to let them get to me. Honestly, I don’t know why I even brought it up to them. I guess I was just wanting someone to talk about it with and thought they’d be more supportive of the idea.
I do understand their concerns and doubts. Being serious about someone is something I’ve never done, and if you’d told me a year ago that I’d be in this position, I never in a million years would’ve believed you.
Well, if you told me who I was serious about, maybe I would have.
Several hands of cards later, I glance at the time on my phone and decide it’s been long enough—I need to see her.
“I’m gonna head out.” I stand and pocket my phone.
“Yeah, I need to get back as well. Luce should be closin’ up shop by the time I get there,” Cal says.
I’m still surprised he’s here. Getting the guy away from Lucy is impossible, but throw in the fact that she’s pregnant and kiss your chances goodbye.
“Hey, let me catch a ride with you,” Carson says as he opens the fridge and reaches inside.
“You payin’ me in food?” I point to the clear container of pasta in his hands.
“Nope,” he responds simply.
“Okayyy…” I wait for clarification as he slips his shoes on.
“It’s on the way. Won’t even put you out.” He pats me on the back as we step out the door.
“Won’t you need a ride back home?” Cal asks, pulling his keys from his pocket when he reaches the bottom of the stairs outside of the apartment building.
“Nah, I got it covered,” Carson says, never meeting Cal’s eyes.
“Alright, see y’all later.” Cal waves over his shoulder and hops in his truck, quickly pulling out of his parking spot. The man is definitely getting a gold star for managing to stay away from his wife for a few hours.
I unlock the doors on my Bronco, and Carson and I climb in. The key turns smoothly, and the engine roars to life. Music fills the speakers, and I lean over to turn it down.
“Okay, so where am I droppin’ your grumpy-ass off at?” I ask, looking at Carson.
“Same place as you.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the street in front of us as he responds.
My eyebrows knit together. “Why are you goin’ to Wren’s?”
He holds up the container of food as if it’s the only answer I need.
Don’t ask, don’t tell.
Right now, I do not want to know; ergo, I will not be asking.
The ride home with Indie feels different. I don’t know if it’s because of the talk I had with Cal and Carson today or if it’s something with Ind, but something definitely feels off. There’s now an almost uncomfortable thickness in the air around us.
“How was your visit with Wren?” I ask, trying to make conversation on the long drive home. She’s been a lot more quiet the last couple of days, and I need to figure it out.
“Good,” Indie shrugs. “Just a usual Netflix and chill day.”
My eyes shoot over to her. “Hold up… What ?” I half laugh.
A part of me wonders if she knows what that phrase really means.
A smile meets the corner of her lips as she peers over at me through her thick lashes.
“Don’t worry, I don’t let her get past first,” she pats my arm. “You’re the only Beckett I allow to do that,” she finishes.
“Hardy har har,” I deadpan.
The laugh that leaves her lips is one I haven’t heard in a while. The sound causes a pang in my chest and a warmth in my core.
She’s so goddamn beautiful it hurts to look at her sometimes—like right now when there’s abundant joy coating her features—from the loud laugh to the creases around her eyes that are scrunched shut in amusement.
She might think she’s a ‘hot mess,’ as she put it before we walked out the door this morning, but she’s my hot mess.
“Did you remember tomorrow is game night?” I ask.
“Oh, goodie. We get to see Wild lose his shit again,” she says with a sarcastic smirk.
“Indiana Jones, you know you love me,” I tease.
Her eyes drop to the seat, and she shifts her body back towards the door with a weak smile.
I didn’t think about the words before I said them. They were supposed to be a joke, but we both know there’s some truth in there now.
At least, I hope there is.
The rest of the drive home is quiet. Indie looks to be asleep with her head against her arm, resting on the window seal of the door. If she really is or not, I’m not sure. I probably scared her with my words earlier. I’d bet money that she’s just doing what she needs to in order to avoid any more awkward moments with me in the confined space.
All I know is, I wasn’t joking about what I told the guys today—I do love this girl. And I’m not going to let her fears push me away anymore.
Pulling into the red dirt and gravel driveway, I get out and open her door. She’s groggy but doesn’t fight when I swoop my arms under her to carry her inside. Her head rests against my chest, and everything feels right in the world again. I know she wants to fight this, and I’m ready for it.
Bring it on, Wildflower.