Chapter 4
Esme
My head is fucked.
I know that for a fact, because when Wizard knocks on the door an hour later and I open it, my first thought is that he looks a little bit weary.
Tired. But more so, that he looks amazing.
Lovely. Familiar and safe, like he’s wrapped up everything that was once good about this town and carries it inside himself.
Home. He looks like home.
That’s sort of… crazy. I guess that burning what remained of my relationship to the ground right before finding out about the worst betrayal by a man who was supposed to love and cherish me and instead basically left me for dead, has officially scrambled my brain.
Although… isn’t it the most natural thing to gravitate toward a man who used to be my best friend?
Wizard saw me through some of my worst moments.
He shared his incredible grandfather with me.
He opened his heart and life and loved me with that unconditional friendship love for such a long time.
He let me come here tonight, listened, and promised me that everything would be okay.
He’s the one holding up the sky and slotting all my missing puzzle pieces into place.
When I think about James, I don’t know that I honestly ever felt like it was going to be forever, but that’s the way I wanted Wizard to be. My friend for the rest of my life.
It was me who fucked that all up, but he’s never once acted like anything was wrecked. He’s always seemed to understand.
My eyes get glassy and I have to stare at the light from the hallway over Wizard’s shoulder. If I look at him, I’m scared I’m going to break down.
“Did you find him?” I wince. “Sorry. I don’t want that to be the first question I ask. Are you okay? How are you holding up?”
He snorts, like there’s no way I should be asking him that.
“I’m serious! I’m not going through this alone. James is your brother. He’s your parents’ son. This affects your club in a massive way if you help me.”
“Him,” he corrects emphatically. “This affects him, Esme. If we pay this debt, it’s James who owes the club money. You’re not responsible. You’re here because you needed a safe place to land when someone you trusted broke that faith and did you the worst kind of wrong.”
My vision fractures despite my resolve to be done crying after I washed away years’ worth of tears in the shower. Resolve is stupid, though, isn’t it? How can I promise myself that I won’t get emotional when I have no idea how much worse this is going to get?
Or how much more amazing Wizard and his club can be.
He rakes a hand through dark auburn hair. In this light, it’s shot through with gold. He tries to smile, but anyone on earth can see that he’s exhausted and deep in some not so great feelings.
I set my hand on his arm. It’s awkward when his eyes flick down to it and practically cross. I’m trying to offer comfort, but it all feels wrong. Off. My fingertips sting after I remove them and tuck my hand at my side. “What time is it?”
“Time for breakfast,” Wizard sighs. “Are you hungry?”
“I think we both know the answer to that.”
“Yeah,” he snorts. “Who could eat when they’ve already had firsts, seconds, and thirds of big heaping plates of bullshit?”
I laugh. So what if it’s watery and a little rough around the edges? It feels good to smile, even if it’s just a little and my eyes are stinging and glossy again. “That’s right.”
“The guys ordered heaping amounts of the good stuff. If you don’t want to eat anything, that’s okay, but there’s coffee.”
“Mm. Life fuel.”
“More like battery acid strong. Odin made it and he’s not great when it comes to measuring. His eyeballing generally involves dumping half a can of grounds into the industrial maker, not nearly enough water, and letting it buck.”
Wizard’s eyes scrape over me, something raw in their depths.
I’m sure I look like I’m barely hanging on, and getting swallowed up in his clothes isn’t doing anything to help me look put together.
His sweats are soft and the massive t-shirt is as big as a blanket, but it’s comforting.
The clothes don’t smell overly masculine.
They smell like soap. I’m the one rocking Wizard’s shampoo, conditioner, and bodywash after a shower that had zero right to feel so damn good.
Who says that hot water can’t fix anything?
I stepped in a total bawled out mess, and came out feeling much more refreshed.
My bravado might have faded a little while I waited, tense, curled up in the desk chair because I didn’t feel right about turning into a ball in the middle of Wizard’s bed. I thought that I might close my eyes and start going places in my mind that I’d rather not visit alone.
I still did plenty of feeling sorry for myself and trying to sort through a snarled ball of emotions from the chair.
I’m not nearly ready to face anyone, especially not the club’s President and VP, but holding out in here isn’t an option any longer. It’s time for lady balls, big girl panties, and a brave face.
Wizard holds out an arm like an eighteenth century gentleman. He’s not so far off. This man was a hero long before he went off to serve his country.
I try to control the trembling that wants to start up, quaking from a spot of wreckage and ruin deep inside of me.
I don’t want Wizard to feel it when I slip my arm through his.
It’s weird, walking like this. The first few steps we bump into each other, banging our hips together painfully.
The step after that, he almost crushes my foot.
I drag my arm from his, though I immediately feel far less safe and a whole lot colder. Mental stuff for sure, all in my head because he’s literally still right beside me.
“I’m okay,” I tell him, more confident than I feel.
“I found him,” he says, but not until after we’re well on our way down the hall.
I’m not surprised. I had every confidence he would. “What did he say?”
Wizard focuses his gaze straight ahead. “He had his phone turned off but he didn’t pull the chip out of it. Fucking idiot. He used his real ID, as I knew he would. He was frantic when he fled. He didn’t plan this out at all.”
“I don’t know if that’s a relief or not.”
We turn a corner, and the swell of voices reaches us from a distance.
Male voices, not raised. Not alarmed. Probably from the kitchen.
No one shouts or sounds pissed off. No one’s barking orders or talking frantically about massive sums of money.
I can’t make out what anyone is saying because it’s all at a normal volume. That gives me hope.
“I phoned the resort he’s at and offered the guy at the front desk a thousand dollars if he’d go find James or transfer me to his room and make sure he took the call. The guy took a phone straight to his room himself.”
“And James was… what? Not sorry?” I almost want to laugh. It wouldn’t be a pretty one, and it would probably trend from bitter to hysterical, to outright mean and then morph into self-deprecation, so I stuff the urge down.
“He was… uh… James.”
So, not sorry. What did I expect? That he’d show an ounce of remorse for leaving me here to potentially get killed?
A man who was supposed to be protecting me?
I was wearing his ring. We were supposed to set ourselves up for forever.
He didn’t just run out on that. He dumped it all on me.
Brought the can of gasoline and burned everything down and wasn’t even present.
It’s not surprising. James has never been present for anything a day in his life.
“I’m sorry,” Wizard mutters. He’s the last one who should be apologizing. He swipes his hand over his face. It’s more than a product of exhaustion. “I really don’t want to turn into an asshole. I don’t want to say horrible things. I don’t want to rage. I don’t want to be bitter and mean and ugly.”
Shock steamrolls straight into me. “You couldn’t be any of those things if you tried!
” I find his hand and wrap my fingers around it.
I clench tightly. My stomach feels funny.
So does my chest. Of course my body does.
This isn’t the kind of regular day to day situation that anyone knows how to deal with.
Something funny passes over Wizard’s face when I let his hand go. A shadow followed by a complex hurricane of emotion that he can’t hide. I might not understand all of it, but I get it.
“This is fucked up,” I hiss. “Seriously fucked. You’re allowed to feel any way that you want to about James, or about this, or even about me.”
He literally rocks back before he recovers and squares his shoulders, pulling them into himself in his plain black t-shirt.
His muscles contract, moving like swaying waves under the cotton.
For just a second, I allow my eyes to trace the contours of him.
I still do double takes when I see him. It’s hard to believe how much he’s changed since high school.
He’s bigger than James now. Taller and sturdier, even though James was never a slouch about going to the gym.
Impulsively, I turn into him and throw my arms around his shoulders. He stands, stock-still, before his arm lifts woodenly. His palm splays out against my lower back, covering so much real estate so effortlessly.
“Thank you.” I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve told him already. “You’re an incredible man. This is just shit.”
“It is.” His voice rumbles up his chest. His breath tickles my forehead.
I feel even smaller pressed up against him.
I pull back into my own space. My heart is beating funny.
Stress. Anxiety. A whole lot of how much worse can this get panic.
I ignore all of that and force a hopeful expression.
At the moment, it probably looks one step above bleak as all hell.
“I could use some battery acid coffee right about now.”
It might be the only thing that gets me through the next couple of hours.
Well, that and Wizard.