Chapter Thirty-One
Emmett
THE ANGER blazing in Wilder’s eyes was unexpected. It was… he didn’t know what it was. Only that it sent his pulse skyrocketing, and not in a good way. He didn’t like that he’d caused it.
“Wilder?”
“He had no right,” Wilder said with a growl in his voice, hands falling from Emmett’s face, ripping free from the hold Emmett had on his wrists when he whirled around and took off down the stairs.
He stared after Wilder with his mouth hanging open. That… was the last reaction he’d expected. What did that even mean? Was he…? Was he mad? At Solo? For telling him or for something else?
He swallowed hard and managed to get his feet moving, hands shaking slightly on the banister as he walked down the stairs. He made it to the first floor just as Wilder flew past him into the hallway. His brows were set in anger, his jaw clenched tight.
He followed Wilder through the front door, unease mixing with uncertainty inside him. He didn’t like the distress coming off Wilder. He didn’t like that he’d caused it. Especially because he didn’t know how to fix it.
He stepped out onto the front porch, noting that a few of the bikers were standing in front of their motorcycles, chatting amicably. His heart jumped into his throat when he saw where Wilder was headed. Who he was headed toward.
“What the fuck, asshole?” Wilder yelled at Solo.
Solo snapped his head up, mouth open as he looked at Wilder with pure confusion. The others scattered before Wilder reached Solo, passing Emmett on their way to the front door as he ran toward Wilder and Solo.
“What are you―”
Wilder slammed his hands into Solo’s chest, sending him back a step, boots skidding on the gravel.
“You’re the ones who pushed me out of your lives, and now you want to involve yourself?”
“Wilder,” Emmett breathed, stopping a few feet away, wincing when Solo’s dark brown eyes snapped onto him, understanding dawning on his face.
“You have no fucking right to interfere in my life,” Wilder snapped at Solo, the two of them staring hard at each other for a moment before Solo shook his head.
“What the fuck are you doing, Wilder?” Solo asked. “You don’t do relationships. Emmett very clearly does. You think it’s fair to string him along? I don’t. That’s why I told him to be careful, because I don’t want to see either of you hurt.”
The plea in Solo’s voice and the devastated look on his face made Emmett believe him, and from the way Wilder stilled, looking like he’d stopped breathing, he believed him, too.
“You don’t want to see me hurt,” Wilder said, his voice low but tinged with anger. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that sooner.”
“I did think about that. It was all I thought about for so damned long that I almost missed out on the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” Solo said, the look in his eyes begging Wilder to understand.
He didn’t think Wilder wanted to understand. Not in this moment. Maybe not ever. The painful clench in his chest brought tears to his eyes. He hated seeing how much this hurt Wilder. He wished he could take that pain away. Wished Wilder would let him carry some of that weight.
Wilder balled his hands into fists, the anger in his expression taking Emmett’s breath away.
“Go on,” Solo yelled, arms thrown wide. “I’m not gonna stop you.”
Wilder looked like he was seriously considering it, but instead of slamming a fist into Solo’s face, he turned on his heels and took off toward the row of motorcycles.
Emmett watched with his heart in his throat as Wilder threw a leg over the seat of his bike and took off down the road, gravel spraying wide and far.
A groan had him snapping his gaze onto Solo, watching him run his hands down his face before threading his fingers behind his neck, the worry on Solo’s face just as clear as the worry churning in his own gut.
An arm wrapped around Emmett’s shoulders, and as Emma leaned into him, he put his arm around her waist, closing his eyes and soaking up her warmth.
“Men,” Emma muttered.
“My brother pissing you off?”
Emma’s huff wasn’t the least bit reassuring.
“When isn’t he?” She sighed, then nudged Emmett’s shoulder with hers, a grin spreading on her face. “Don’t worry. The makeup sex is worth it.”
“The what now?”
Emmett looked over his shoulder and found Miles watching them with confusion in his amber eyes, Kaz walking past him toward Solo. He felt Emma tense and couldn’t help the way his own shoulders shot up.
“What’s going on?”
Emma cleared her throat, then looked away from Miles, her hands tapping the sides of her thighs as if she was considering what to say.
“I messed up,” he whispered before Emma could speak.
Miles’s eyes softened as he stepped closer. “You alright?”
He shook his head, hands shaking as he pulled away from Emma and turned to face Miles. Why was this so hard? What was it about admitting that he’d let Heath tear him down that always felt worse than anything Heath had done to him?
He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to gather the courage to tell Miles the truth.
“Em? You’re scaring me,” Miles said, voice closer now and filled with worry.
He slowly opened his eyes, swallowing hard as he met Miles’s gaze.
“Heath… He uh…”
Something flared through those golden eyes: fear. Confusion. If he got the words out, it would probably turn into anger. When he got the words out. He needed Miles to have the full picture before they got to the Wilder portion of his fuckup.
A hand slid into his, warm and steady. He glanced up at Emma. There was a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips as she gave him an encouraging nod. He held her gaze as he spoke. “He was an asshole. He made me doubt myself. He made me hate myself.”
His throat closed up, tears filling his eyes. He turned his gaze toward Miles, watching him through those tears as he slid his hand free from Emma’s to sign the words that just wouldn’t come.
“Travis and Emma made me see the truth. I left him. He didn’t accept it.”
Miles’s jaw dropped as he stared at Emmett with wide eyes. He couldn’t tell if that look in his eyes was shock or disbelief.
“That’s partly why I came here. To escape it all and start over. Then I went and fell for the one guy I shouldn’t have.”
“Oh, Em,” Miles breathed.
“I know.” He nodded, eyes burning and making him blink against the tears filling them. “I’m an idiot.”
Miles shook his head and reached for him, pulling him into a tight hug.
“No, you’re not.”
He dropped his forehead to Miles’s shoulder and took a deep breath of the citrus smell always clinging to Miles.
There was a hint of leather, too, but no woods, no lake.
As much as he loved Miles, he wasn’t the one he wanted to lean on right now.
He understood that Wilder needed to cool off.
He needed to… figure things out. He wasn’t sure which things, though.
He knew this wasn’t entirely about them.
It was about Wilder and Solo and the broken trust between them.
But was Wilder mad at Solo because he’d inserted himself into something Wilder didn’t want him involved with, or was it more?
Was it―No. He couldn’t bring himself to think it.
To believe it. Even for a second. It would hurt too much if Wilder came back and told him that Solo was right and everything between them was temporary. That it was over.
He wasn’t sure he’d survive that because, despite trying not to, he’d fallen in love with Wilder.