Chapter 13
Wilder
My thumb hovered over my phone screen, and I watched as it slowly dimmed.
There was a tightness in my chest that wasn’t there before I’d stepped into this room, away from the rest of the festivities, the sounds of our holiday party carrying on in the bunkhouse’s great room muffled through the door behind me.
The slow and unwelcome squeeze only seemed to grow worse the longer I stared down at Asher’s contact and the phone log from our call.
He worried me—he really fucking did.
Whatever was going on over there, making his voice catch like that, had my mind turning over worst-case scenarios faster than I could talk myself down from them.
This wasn’t him.
He was supposed to be busy with his family, too preoccupied to answer my texts and my calls. Not answering me like he was spending Christmas all alone and had no one else to talk to. Like he’d been sitting there with his phone in his hand waiting, hoping, for someone to reach out to him.
My thumb strained over the ‘call back’ option.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it and I’d meant what I said—I wasn’t going to push it. I’d never been in the business of forcing anyone to air out their own business and I sure as hell wasn’t about to go back on that now.
But...
This was Asher... my damn soft spot.
I dragged a hand over my face and sighed into it, the other one dropping to my side. “Fuck.”
If I was wrong about something going on, it was only going to make me look like a fool calling him back to try and dig answers out of him. For all I knew, I’d caught him between activities and he was simply being polite answering me in the first place.
Jeopardizing him coming back to Texas because I had it in my head he needed some grand rescue when it turned out to be the exact opposite was the last thing I wanted.
I’d already toed that line of overstepping with him before, far too often for my comforts.
Keeping it going while he was ten hours away would be the nail in the coffin.
Splitting my fingers apart, I peered through them into the dark room I’d slipped into; an old, unused sitting room I had yet to get around to renovating but desperately needed to.
The place was stuffed with old furniture that had seen better days, most of it pushed up against the walls to form a strange looking semi-circle that looked more ominous than it did harmless.
Outside the window across the way from me were Christmas lights that had been wrapped around the outside frame, flickering softly. They were supposed to be a warm and festive sight, but instead, all they reminded me of was that small hitch in his voice.
“It’s nothing.”
I tightened my hand around my phone.
One week.
That was all I had to wait. Seven days until he was back at the ranch, back where I could keep an eye on him. I wouldn’t have to rely on trying to read him through the damn phone to figure out if he was okay or not once he was here again.
I could wait that long.
Right?
Forcing myself to push away from the wall I’d settled against, I shoved my phone deep into my pocket and grabbed the door handle before I could second guess going through with calling him back.
Bothering him wouldn’t do either of us any good.
If he was struggling, I needed to trust he could handle it on his own or call me if he needed to talk about it. I’d made it clear I’d be all ears, no questions asked.
But forcing him to?
Guilting him into opening up, like I was damn tempted to, to keep prodding at him until he gave in, was only going to push him away.
I didn’t want to keep falling back into this helicopter role I’d grown familiar with, breathing down his neck every time something felt a little off.
This new year, I needed to change—I had to, for both our sakes, or else the wedge I feared would be the final straw would come much sooner than I wanted it to.
I needed to stop invading his space, stop stepping in when he never asked me to in the first place, no matter how much it nagged at me.
It wasn’t my job to hold him down and keep him tethered just because I hated the idea of losing sight of him.
I couldn’t keep steering him to what I thought was best because that’s what kept him close.
It wouldn’t be fair. He wasn’t mine to have.
With a sharp exhale, I headed back down the hallway.
As I neared the great room, the noise swelled again. Laughter, and the unmistakable off-key warble of someone butchering one of my mama’s favorite Christmas classics on the portable karaoke machine, gave me pause outside the archway when I finally reached it.
Normally, I wouldn’t think twice about heading back in and finding myself an empty corner to settle into while the rest of the party carry on, however, right now, the last thing I wanted was to pretend I was in the mood for any of it.
So, instead of slipping inside, I veered off toward the kitchen.
Thankfully, it was empty.
I grazed my hand over the row of crystalline tumblers Hazel had dragged down from the hutch earlier that afternoon and set down on one of the counters.
The details on the sides of them caught the soft kitchen light over by the sink, intricate grooves my fingers idly ghosted over as I touched the glasses.
She’d taken the time to lay them out on a satin cloth, no doubt fussing over every little detail the way she always did whenever the holidays came around. She took pride in giving us the full Christmas experience since, for most of us, this was the only family we had.
She was damn good at it, too.
I plucked a glass from the lineup, rolling it between my hands a few times. Whiskey and gin sat beside them, both bottles already half-drained—evidence of a night well underway.
I didn’t bother with the fancy, oversized ice cubes that were left to chill on the tray nearby, didn’t bother measuring out an actual proper serving, either.
Just tipped the bottle over and poured a generous amount into my tumbler and watched the amber liquid swirl for a second before knocking it back in one go.
The burn hit instantly, a sharp heat sliding down my throat and settling in my chest. It wasn’t enough to take the edge off completely but it dulled the restless itch beneath my skin that was begging me to slip my phone out of my pocket and check for another message from Asher.
I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders.
I wasn’t the type to drink myself stupid—never had been—but tonight... I might have to make an exception.
“You good?”
I blinked, turning around to see Sully standing in the doorway.
Forcing a half-smile, I turned back to the bottle to pour out another glass. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Saw you snuck away for a phone call but didn’t see you come back. I got a little worried.” His voice trailed off for half a second, footsteps drawing closer until his presence settled just over my shoulder. “And you’re drinking.”
My hand froze, glass halfway raised to my lips. “So?”
“You don’t drink, Wilder.”
I finally turned my head to meet his gaze, finding his own swimming with something close to concern, though he hid it beneath that usual steady exterior he always wore.
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d gotten sloppy drunk enough that it ended with someone having to carry me back up to the main house to tuck me into bed. All of those times had, unfortunately, been with Sully.
Which meant he knew better.
He nodded to the glass in my hand. “Never seen you so much as touch a stray glass of wine during the holidays. Now I find you in here trying to knock back six shots worth of whiskey?”
“It’s Christmas,” I muttered.
He eyed me again. “What was the call about?”
I set my tumbler down a little too hard, the liquid inside of it sloshing dangerously.
This was the worst part when it came to Sully being older than me: he knew me too well. Being my late father’s right hand since I was a kid gave him too much knowledge into how I worked, what made me tick, what kind of things I did and didn’t get up to in my spare time.
While I hadn’t lied when I told Asher I’d had a healthy teenage and young adult life back in the day, I’d always been responsible regardless of what I got up to in my free time.
I never let things spiral out of control or to the point where someone needed to step in and come snap me back to reality.
I knew what mattered. How the responsibilities of running this ranch fell on my shoulders. Things around here wouldn’t get done if I started slacking.
Asher’s offhand, straight-laced comment bothered me, but in reality, he wasn’t actually as far off as I wanted him to be.
I traced my fingers absently along the raised design on the side of the glass. “Why do you assume it went bad?”
Sully crossed his arms over his chest. “I didn’t. But now that you mention it... did it?”
I really hated how easily he could see through me. It was like trying to hide from someone who’d already memorized every tell, noticed all the cracks in my armor I didn’t realize I had to begin with.
This felt all too much like talking to my father.
I exhaled slowly. “It wasn’t anything bad. Just Asher checking in.”
Sully raised a single brow. “Why would he be calling you on Christmas? Isn’t he supposed to be with his family?”
“I’m not sure.” I wished I knew, though.
He’d been looking forward to his trip home; had talked about it endlessly to the other ranch hands right up until the day his cab came by and whisked him away to the airport.
He’d wanted to be home with his brothers.
Had said time and time again how much he missed them and was looking forward to their reunion after spending almost an entire year apart.
But something had changed.
Something had gone wrong in the time from when he left here until tonight.
Whatever it was, it had drained the excitement right out of him.
“It’s nothing.” Those words... clipped and dismissive.
I tightened my hand around the glass.