Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
WILDER
T he next morning, Wilder rolled over and hissed. Pain throbbed through his body, and he flopped over onto his back, his breath hitching as every little movement sent a fresh stab coursing through him. The faint light of dawn was barely a glow through the gap between the curtains, and a light knock on the door revealed what had woken him.
“Fuck,” he grunted.
He was still naked, and frankly had no idea how he’d manage to dress himself if he remained as stiff and sore as he currently was. There was only one person he wanted to be on the other side of that door, and if it wasn’t him, he had no qualms about telling them to fuck off—even if it happened to be Lain, although he doubted his brother would be caught dead at his door.
“Who is it?” he called.
“Cash,” came the answer.
Wilder went lax. “Please tell me you have a key.”
There was a pause. “I do. Everything okay?”
“Just come in.”
The doorknob rattled, and a moment later Cash swept into the room, barely with the sense of mind to shut it behind him.
“What is it? What’s wrong? Why can’t you get up?”
“Just sore,” Wilder wheezed as he tried to push himself upright. “And still naked. Which I wouldn’t care about if Mary-Beth and Annalise didn’t live right over there.” He rasped out a laugh, and Cash gave him a relieved smile at the sound.
“I can help you dress. I came to drop off some stuff.” He raised a paper sack Wilder hadn’t noticed. “Food from the kitchen and my e-reader.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“You didn’t show for breakfast, and I figured you’d be hungry when you woke. Also, the sooner you eat, the sooner you can take another one of those lovely pills that kill your pain and knock you out.”
Cash carried the bag over to the mini fridge. Wilder stared up at the ceiling while Cash put the food in the fridge, deposited his e-reader on the bedside table, and fetched some clothes from the dresser.
“I’m an invalid,” Wilder muttered, starfished on the bed and unable to do anything about it. “I’m officially past my prime. You should take me out back and shoot me.”
“I would never,” Cash said matter-of-factly, then unceremoniously whipped the blankets off Wilder’s naked body.
“I beg your pardon,” Wilder said flatly. “A little warning would be nice.”
“I had that cock in my mouth last night. Don’t be modest now.”
“Modest? I meant because it’s cold in here.” Wilder laughed.
Cash chuckled, his gaze trailing a line of heat down Wilder’s body. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Wilder flushed. “Cash, fuck.”
He smiled. “Sorry not sorry? Here, give me your foot.”
He helped Wilder sit up and thread his legs through a pair of black boxer briefs. Moving his knee at all made pain radiate up and down his leg, and by the time he had a pair of gray joggers on, he was on his feet and panting against Cash’s shoulder, leaning on him heavily.
Cash sighed into his hair, gentle hands sweeping up and down Wilder’s back. “I wish I could stay.”
Wilder forced himself to straighten and shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. Focus on the job. I’ll be fine.”
“I know you will.” Cash’s voice was a whiskey rumble. “Doesn’t mean I’ll worry any less.”
That sent a quiet thrill through him, and he couldn’t hide his smile. Cash’s amber eyes fell to his lips.
“You like that I’m going to worry, don’t you?”
“Maybe a little.” There was no harm in admitting it.
“Mm-hm.” Cash kissed him, slow and deep, and suddenly Wilder also regretted that Cash couldn’t stay with him. “Take it easy today. Want my help putting on the brace before I go?”
“No, I can do that. You should get a move on.”
“Okay. I’ll come by again tonight and help you settle in.”
Wilder smirked. “Help me, huh?”
Cash grinned. “Got to make sure you get plenty of rest.”
Wilder leaned in, his heart galloping in his chest. “Careful. You’re going to spoil me.”
“Oh, no,” Cash whispered against his lips. “Does that mean you’ll start expecting things from me?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Guess it’ll be my duty to provide them, then.”
“Exactly.”
“Sounds miserable.” But his smile said it sounded anything but. “Have a good day, baby.”
“You, too. Be safe.”
“Always.” He gave Wilder one last kiss, cradling his face with one hand, and then backed away.
Alone again, Wilder blew out a breath, sitting and bending down to pick up the leg brace.
His morning was a boring one. He watched from the window as the others rode off into the field, then hobbled to the bed. He picked the most recent finished book on Cash’s e-reader to read while he ate—two sausage and biscuits—and then downed his painkiller with relish. After a couple of chapters, he grew restless, so he set the tablet aside with a sigh and grabbed his crutches. He couldn’t just sit around for the next month and a half, right? He’d lose his mind. It would be like prison all over again, trapped in a tiny room with hardly anything to do.
It was a privilege to step outside and breathe fresh air. Even hobbling on his crutches, there was nothing quite like the crunch of grass under well-fitting boots. His eyes found Blaze immediately, grazing in a nearby field with a handful of other horses. He moved as fluid and graceful as always, and the sight eased the last remaining tension from Wilder’s bones. Blaze was okay, so he was okay. He didn’t fuck this up. Not yet, at least.
“Uncle Wilder!”
The words sent a jolt down his spine just like last time. He turned as Annalise raced across the yard toward him, her sandy hair whipping behind her.
“Hey, kid,” he said blankly.
“Daddy says you got hurt yesterday. Is your leg broken?”
“No, just… hurt, a little. I’ll be fine. Are you out here by yourself?” His eyes scanned the yard, but he saw no sign of Mary-Beth or anyone else.
“Nah, Momma’s in the backyard hanging up clothes.”
“By herself? Ain’t you supposed to be helping her?”
Annalise looked down, scuffing her boot in the grass. “Hanging clothes is boring.”
“Yeah, but she’s pregnant with your baby brothers. She needs your help.”
“Maybe I wanna help you . What are you doing out here?”
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She’d want to tag along if he went to the horse barn or paddock. Maybe he could get her to leave if he was stern, but he found he didn’t want to wipe the bright curiosity from her face. He didn’t want anyone else to be afraid of him. That Wilder had no place here.
“I’m—gonna go help your Momma, I reckon,” he said.
She looked doubtful. “Really? But you’re hurt.”
“My arms work just fine. Come on now.” He waved her ahead of him, and she turned to fall into step with him with a put-upon sigh.
“Fine,” she said.
Lain might not like it if he hung around his family, and his mouth was dry with nerves as he crossed the yard and rounded the house with Annalise bouncing along beside him. Wind whipped across the yard, and he heard a quiet curse from around the corner. When Mary-Beth came into view, a lightweight blouse smacked him in the face.
Two peals of laughter rang out as he sputtered and pulled the cloth away.
“Sorry about that!” Mary-Beth called. “But thanks for grabbing it. Lord knows I can’t chase it down right now.”
“No problem.” He shot Annalise an arch look. “Chasing down stray clothes should be your job, anyway.”
She rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. You’re just like Daddy.”
He ducked his head sharply, hoping she didn’t see the stricken look that crossed his face. To distract her, he gave her the blouse to run over to Mary-Beth so he could hang on to his crutches.
“Need some help?” he asked.
“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”
“No, please, you’d be doing me a favor. I’m going stir-crazy in my room.”
“Bending down to get the clothes is the hardest part for me. Think you could just stand here and grab clothes for me to hang?” She gestured to the basket of clothes at her feet.
“Really?” he asked. “Just stand there? You sure?”
She looked down at the brace on his knee. “I think that might be all you can handle right now, don’t you think?”
He arched a brow at her. “At least I can see my feet.”
For a moment he thought he might’ve fucked up, but then she threw her head back with a howl of laughter.
“Touché. Come on now. These clothes won’t hang themselves.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She made no comment about how long it took him to get into place, laying his crutches at his feet and bending at the waist to grab an article of clothing in each hand.
“How is the leg, by the way?” she asked as she hung up the first shirt.
“Oh, everything hurts today,” he said matter-of-factly. It was surprisingly easy to be honest with her. She was one step removed from his brother, and with Lain out of sight, she was just another person on the ranch rather than his sister-in-law.
“Do you have any ice packs?” She took the next shirt from him, and he bent to grab some more. Nearby, Annalise was chasing after a grasshopper. Very helpful, that one.
“Uh, no? I have painkillers.”
Mary-Beth snorted. “I have some you can use. They’ll help with the swelling.”
“Don’t go to any trouble for me. I’ve had—” He stopped short of saying it again.
Her assessing gaze found his. “Worse?” she guessed, and he watched her eyes fall to the knife tattooed on his neck.
“Yeah. Something like that.”
She lowered her arms, worrying the blouse in her hands. There were unspoken things on her face, worries and questions. History stretched between them, and he waited for it all to come tumbling down. But then Annalise shrieked with laughter and dove out of the way of the grasshopper, reminding them that they weren’t alone.
She cleared her throat, plucking two more clothes-pins off the line and adding the next shirt. “I think Lain’s a little daunted by the idea of raising twins.”
Wilder braced himself. He could do this. He could be normal. “Well, he’d know firsthand how wild they can be.”
She chuckled. “Any advice?”
He wrinkled his nose. “Don’t dress them alike.”
“Aw, really?”
She looked so disappointed, he couldn’t help laughing. “Fine, fine, have your cutesy photoshoots of them in matching outfits.”
She laughed loudly. “Just when they’re little babies. As soon as they can start choosing for themselves, they can wear what they’d like. It’s just easy to buy two of something instead of hunt for two different kinds of things.”
“I guess that makes sense.” He wracked his brain for something else to say. “Lain and I…” His voice broke, and her head whipped toward him. He coughed. “Sorry. Lain and I used to sneak into each other’s bedrooms.”
He stopped, staring out at the line where the grassy hill met the cloudy sky. Dad’s voice rang through his memory, followed by the sharp smack of pain between his shoulder blades.
“Wilder?” Mary-Beth ventured softly, closer than before.
He inhaled sharply, blinking the memory away. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and rather than shying away, he took strength from it, straightening his spine as he met her eyes. “He hated it when he’d find us in bed together. Said it was wrong for two boys to sleep in the same bed. Even brothers. Even if we were scared of a thunderstorm or he’d gone on another fucking bender—” He stopped, glancing over to make sure Annalise couldn’t overhear him. “They’re twins,” he breathed. “They’ll be closer to each other than anybody. Let them be. Don’t separate them if you don’t have to.”
She looked down at her stomach, rubbing in a circular motion. “We won’t. I promise.”
And then she gasped, her eyes bright with happiness, and grabbed his hand, laying it on her stomach. It felt intimate, the heat of her skin seeping through the thin fabric of her shirt, but before he could protest, he felt it. The baby—one of the babies—pressing against his palm from inside her. He couldn’t tell what body part it was, but it was big and round.
She groaned, chuckling. “That’s a butt.”
He sputtered out a laugh. “ What ?”
She nodded. “Yeah. They’re both upside-down now. That’s Baby B straightening his legs out this way,” she guided his hand to the other side of her stomach, where he felt two smaller lumps which had to be feet, “and pushing his butt out here.” She laughed. “Which means Baby A is curled up just below his legs. They take turns stretching out. I’m hoping that means they’ll take turns when they’re old enough to scream about it.”
“Baby A and B?” he asked. “No names yet?”
“Not yet. We’re still debating between a handful. It’s hard enough deciding on a name for one baby, let alone two.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
They finished hanging up the clothes, and with nothing more to do, Wilder picked up his crutches with the intention of making his escape.
“Annalise, honey, can you grab the basket and run it inside for me?” Mary-Beth called, and Annalise bounded over with all the energy of a seven-year-old, snatching up the basket and racing toward the back door.
“Why don’t you come in for a bit, take a load off? I’ve got an apple pie cooling on the stove.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t,” he said quickly.
“You could. I’ll even throw in a scoop of ice cream on top,” she added.
“I…” God, when was the last time he’d had something like homemade pie? But he definitely shouldn’t go inside the house. He hadn’t been inside since that night . “I should really go and lay down.”
“You can rest just as well in the house. And it’s closer. Come on, you can’t tell a pregnant lady no.” She waddled toward the back door, and Wilder followed like a man going to the gallows.
The mudroom hadn’t changed much. A newer washer and dryer sat on the right where the old ones used to be. The linoleum was the same, but it seemed they’d slapped on a fresh coat of paint at some point over the years. He followed her down the hallway that bisected the house, past the master bedroom—he was glad the door was shut—and stopped at the living room.
Nothing about it was the same. Gone was the ratty carpet, the discolored drapes, the threadbare furniture. They’d turned this house, this tomb , into a home. Rich wood floors, matching furniture, an honest-to-god rocking chair in the corner by an arching bookcase. Lace curtains billowed lightly in the breeze that came through the open, polished windows. A flat-screen television hung on the wall over a tasteful entertainment center that was the same color wood as the floor. Photos of Lain, Mary-Beth, and Annalise hung on the wall beside him, under the staircase. Their wedding day, Annalise’s birth, family photos over the years from various holidays and seasons. There were photos of Mary-Beth with an older couple who had to be her parents, but not a single photo from Lain’s past graced the wall.
It stung, but Wilder couldn’t blame him.
When he reached the base of the stairs, he stopped, staring at the floor. It happened here. Right here. Of course, there was no evidence of the horrors of that night. The bloodstained carpet was long gone. He could still hear the screams.
It had started in the living room. He’d run to the kitchen for a knife, and Dad followed him. They’d met here, and the shock of the knife going in had made him gasp. Lain’s screams hurt his ears, but he kept going. After the first one, he had no choice. If he didn’t end things then, they’d never be safe.
“Wilder.”
Mary-Beth’s gentle hand touched his shoulder again, and this time, he rasped in a loud breath through a throat that was too tight.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t even think about—that it happened here. Are you okay?”
“Am I…” He huffed out a laugh. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?” He scrubbed at his eyes. “I did it, didn’t I?”
She smiled tightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I have opinions about that. None that I want Annalise to overhear.”
“Opinions,” he repeated. “Yeah, everyone’s got opinions these days, seems like.”
She studied his face for a long moment, then turned her head and called, “Annalise, honey, why don’t you eat your pie in the living room and watch a little TV?”
Annalise darted past them to the living room. “Okay, thanks, Momma!”
“I’ll bring it to you in a minute, okay?”
“Okay!”
“Come on.” She coaxed Wilder into the kitchen like a timid animal and even pulled a chair out for him to sit down at the table.
Neither of them spoke while she cut the pie. Wilder kept his head down, debating whether he could move faster than Mary- Beth to escape out the front door. Anxiety twisted in his gut at the thought of having to sit and listen to her opinions about what happened back then. He’d heard nothing but opinions from people in this town who thought he was a monster. He wasn’t sure he could stomach any more.
Mary-Beth delivered the first bowl to the living room, and then set another in front of him. The pie looked perfect, with a rounded scoop of vanilla ice cream nestled beside it. The top crust was dusted with big grains of sugar, and he could smell the buttery, cinnamon flavor of the sauce.
“You look like I’m about to pull out a whip and beat you,” she said, sitting across from him with a bowl of her own. “So I think I should preface all of this with one thing.”
He couldn’t bring himself to pick up his spoon.
“Thank you.”
He blinked. Lifting his head, he met her eyes. “What?”
“Thank you. Lain doesn’t talk much about what happened back then. He told me about it exactly once, right after it happened. Right after he gave his statement to the police and they let him go, he came to my parents’ house, climbed in my window, and told me everything. And all I felt was relief .”
Wilder’s eyes burned. “What?” It came out like a croak. He barely sounded human to himself.
She pursed her lips and nodded, her eyes big and wet. “He didn’t like to talk about his dad, but I knew enough. He’d let enough slip. That man was a monster. I’d seen the bruises. I’d seen the way he flinched whenever an older man got too close. My dad can be kind of stern, and it took Lain years to be able to stand tall in his presence. He always just looked like he was expecting a hit from somewhere. You…” She struggled to find her voice again, and when she did, it was a whisper. “You saved him that night. I don’t know if he sees it the same way, but that’s what I’ve always thought.”
Something fragile quaked in Wilder’s chest, threatening to break, and he ducked his head to hide the way his breath shuddered out of him, covering his face with his hands.
“I’m sorry if it’s not my place to say. I don’t know what Lain’s opinions are about that night, because he keeps it all bottled up. I just wanted you to know. It sounds like that man would’ve ruined this place and ruined both of you along with him. And I don’t know what happened to you after that. I don’t know what prison was like or what other hardships you’ve faced—and I’m sure there have been some—but just know, I’m in your corner. For whatever it’s worth.”
He nodded, wiping his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but it was a near thing. His throat hurt. “Thank you,” he rasped. “That’s—not something I’ve heard very often.”
She smiled sadly. “I thought as much.”
Wilder woke to the sound of pounding hooves outside. He opened his eyes, and for a moment he was seventeen again, napping on the couch and waking in a panic, wondering whether Dad had seen him. Sometimes, if he caught Wilder sleeping during the day, he’d drag him off the couch and wake him with a whipping for his laziness, but other times he’d bide his time, leaving Wilder wrong-footed and wary until retribution finally came when he least expected it.
But Dad was long gone, and the evidence was all around him. The nicely decorated living room. Annalise sitting on the floor beside him, her legs tucked under the coffee table, bobbing along to the music playing soft on the kids’ show she was watching. His sore leg was propped up, and a melted ice pack wrapped in a tea towel laid against his knee.
He was safe.
Without thinking, he laid a hand on Annalise’s delicate shoulder, anchoring himself to the present. She patted his fingers without looking back at him.
“Morning, Uncle Wilder.”
His heart squeezed at the casual familiarity of it. It wasn’t morning, but that didn’t matter. She was greeting him the same way she greeted any other family member who’d woken from a nap, and for a moment he didn’t feel like an outsider.
“Morning, baby girl,” he whispered.
“Come on, Annalise, let’s go meet Daddy,” Mary-Beth called from another room.
Wilder’s eyes sprang open. Lain was back. Lain was going to see him leaving the house with his wife and daughter.
“Shit.” He levered himself upright.
“Bad word,” Annalise said.
“Sorry. Here.” He handed her the ice pack and pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his crutches and moving toward the door as quick as his broken body allowed. Maybe if he got outside before they were done in the barn, Lain wouldn’t realize where he’d come from.
He shouldn’t have let her talk him into resting on the sofa. Hell, he shouldn’t have let her talk him into going inside at all. Lain hadn’t once invited him inside. He’d crossed a line— another line—and what would Lain do when he found out?
“Wilder?” Mary-Beth asked, emerging from the kitchen. “Everything okay?”
“Yes. No.” He fought to inhale. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think he’d be happy about me being here.” He cast a glance back at Annalise, who was turning off the television and getting to her feet.
“If he has a problem, I’ll set him straight,” Mary-Beth said softly. “I don’t want you to worry.”
All he ever did was worry. Worrying about Lain was his natural state of being. About him, for him, what he thought, what he felt.
Mary-Beth opened the door for him, and he escaped onto the front porch. The evening air had a frigid bite to it, and his breath fogged in front of him as he inched down the steps. When he looked up, he blanched, because Lain, heading toward the house, had stopped dead in the driveway, staring at him.
Annalise barreled past him, leaping over the steps altogether. “Daddy! How was the ride? Did Persimmon do good? Did you have fun?”
Lain tore his eyes from Wilder and plastered a smile on his face that didn’t reach his eyes. “Of course Persimmon did good. She’s a pro. And yes, I had fun—or as much fun as one can have working out in the sun. Come here.” He hauled her up into his arms, her long, coltish legs dangling. “How was your day? Are you okay?”
Wilder ducked his head, flushing with fury and embarrassment. Did Lain really think he’d ever hurt that little girl? He wasn’t a monster, goddammit. Turning away, he hobbled toward the bunkhouse, his throat aching with emotion he refused to show.
“Yeah! Perdita and Pongo found a mouse, and all the birds went nuts.”
“The turkeys killed a mouse?” Lain asked.
“Hi, honey,” Mary-Beth said, striding out to greet him.
“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”
Wilder’s back burned under the weight of Lain’s stare. He didn’t have to turn around to know he was being watched.
“Of course. Everything’s just fine. We’ve had a good day, haven’t we, Annalise?”
“Yep!”
“We saved you some pie and ice cream, and I’ve got chicken baking. Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
Wilder tuned them out, clenching his jaw hard. Halfway there, and then he could hide from accusing stares and suspicious questions.
“Wilder!”
He stiffened, warring between the urge to stop and speed up. He wanted to see Cash, wanted to see him so badly he feared Lain would see right through him.
“I thought you were going to take it easy today,” Cash said, coming to a stop beside him and giving him a friendly clap on the shoulder.
“I did,” he said, focusing on not leaning into Cash’s side. It was harder than it had any right to be. His skin was freshly browned by the sun, and his honey eyes were bright with happiness. They must have had a good ride today, and he wanted to catch the scent of sunlight on Cash’s skin, taste the salt. Dangerous things he couldn’t let Lain see.
“He did!” Mary-Beth called. “He’s been icing his leg. I had some ice packs I let him borrow.”
Cash brightened. “Oh, good. How are you feeling?”
Like he wanted to sink into the ground and disappear forever. “Fine.”
Cash’s smile faded, and his head tilted. “Wilder?”
“Can I go, please?” he asked softly.
Cash’s lips pressed together. “Did something happen?”
“I just need to go.”
And then, over Cash’s shoulder, he heard Lain ask Mary-Beth quietly, “What was he doing in there?”
Cash obviously heard it, too. His brow furrowed, and his head turned. Wilder didn’t look, but a moment later Cash’s hand touched the center of his back. “Yeah, you can go. Want me to come?”
Cash was probably tired and hungry. He’d need to eat, have a shower, maybe discuss work stuff with Lain. Cash had a job to do here, after all. He couldn’t wait on Wilder hand and foot.
“No,” he croaked. “That’s okay. I think I’ll just turn in.”
“Wilder…”
He didn’t listen, hobbling to his door and closing it on the scene he’d left behind. Cash looking longingly after him, and Lain, farther back, watching him with an uncertain frown.