31. Wilder
The alcohol swirling through my system is doing nothing to dull the pain inside of me.
It’s like there is a hole in my chest, and it doesn’t matter how much I try to fill it, it still always remains barren.
I can feel the room spinning as I am dropped on my bed, and the sound of muffled voices somewhere behind me, but I don’t look up.
I shouldn’t have drunk this much, I know that, but with Caden here I am struggling.
Every time I close my eyes I see him.
Not Caden. My brother.
I see the last time I saw him alive, I see the moment on the roof when Caden told me he was dead.
I see my mother’s sad eyes at the fact he never came home and she doesn’t know why.
I see the way Casper, Knox, and Beck look at me in pity, even though they don’t know the truth of what really happened.
I see the way Bobby watches me, like he thinks I am going to retaliate against his best friend.
And I see the way Caden accepts the fact I might hate him now.
The worst part is that I don’t hate him, I can’t, or maybe I just don’t feel it yet. Maybe it’s too mixed up in the anger, grief and guilt. All three have been living inside me for so long they've become impossible to separate and on nights like this I tend to forget which way is up.
“He needs some water.” The first voice says. Bobby. Always the damn fixer. I bet he knows exactly where my brother is, he probably helped Caden bury his body. The two of them are as thick as thieves.
“I don’t need water,” I scoff, slurring my words, but I’m too messed up to care.
“You absolutely do need water.” That voice is definitely not Bobby, but it’s one I’ve come to be able to recognize anywhere.
Reed. My Blue.
I try to sit up but the room spins, not from alcohol, or at least not entirely, because my chest feels too tight, and I know this feeling all too well.
I hate this feeling, and I don’t fucking want it, not here, not tonight, not in front of fucking Bobby.
He’s going to leave this room and give my cousin a play by play of every single second, and I hate them both for that.
I force myself to focus on where they are standing, and I see Reed watching me from beside the door, Bobby nowhere in sight, but before I can speak, he’s right back at his side.
They’re talking too low for me to hear, but whatever Bobby says has Reed nodding his head, taking something from him, and not moving until he leaves.
Bobby takes one last look at me before he walks away, and only then does Reed close the door.
Then the next thing I know he is at my side, offering me a bottle of water.
I don’t take it, I can’t, my hands are shaking too much.
I notice it instantly, and so does he. I also notice the way I can’t get enough breath into my lungs, and I’m shaking my head.
“No, no, no, I can’t do this again.” My voice is muffled against the sheets, but it pulls Reed even closer.
“Wild, it’s okay, just breathe,” Reed whispers, his voice right next to me now, and it kills me that he knows what this is, that he’s seen it before. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” he repeats like a mantra, and I laugh.
“No, I’m really not.” My pulse pounds so hard it hurts, and I wonder if this is how Jason felt before Caden made it all go away.
Maybe he could make it all go away for me too.
“I’m right here, it’s okay.” I feel the bed dip beside me and then his hands are on me, stroking at my face as he tries to calm me down.
“No it’s not okay, he’s gone.” I’m shaking my head, trying to get him to stop touching me, but all he does is pull me in even closer.
“Who’s gone?” Reed asks, his voice just as soothing as always, and I try to claw it closer. I want to inject it into my veins and bathe in it for eternity.
“My brother, he’s gone and it’s all Caden’s fault,” I choke out, a wet sensation hitting my face, as something inside of me screams at me to stop talking. “He wasn’t right, he did bad things, and now he’s gone.”
I can feel Reed’s hands pause on my face, no doubt trying to make sense of what I’m saying. “I thought you said you knew where your brother was?” His voice has that professional edge now, the PR side of him that is used to digging up stuff like this.
I’m already nodding. “I do know, but I wish I didn’t, I wish he never told me. I just want it all to stop, Blue.” My breath catches in my throat now, I’m gasping for air as my body moves on its own. No, not on its own, Reed is moving me.
I am thrown back against the headboard, as he practically straddles me, his hands cupping my cheeks. “Breathe for me,” he pleads, my eyes finally focusing on him.
“I am breathing,” I snap, trying to shove him off, but he pins me down with his hips, not relenting on his hold on my face.
“Bullshit.”
At that I sigh. “I’m trying, Blue.” The nickname comes out rougher than usual, and his thumbs stroke my cheek as he forces me to keep meeting his stare.
“In and out for me, baby, come on, I know you can do it.”
The word almost stops me in my tracks, slicing through every loud thought in my head, until all I can hear is him.
The panic is still there, still clawing at my rib cage, still making my heart pound, but Reed is here now.
He’s here and he’s looking at me like I mean something, like he cares, and all I can do is stare right back.
He doesn’t say anything else, he doesn’t have to, he can see he has me now, that I’m focused only on him.
Truth is, he’s had me since the night on that damn balcony, and I have only fallen deeper every day since.
We both sit in silence staring at one another, nothing needed but his presence to make my heart rate gradually slow, and for the first time in hours I feel a sense of peace. Still he doesn’t move, he stays sitting on top of me, breathing in and out with me, until my entire body relaxes beneath him.
"Better?" Reed asks quietly, and I swallow thickly before nodding once.
I’m drained, my entire body feeling like I just ran round a race track instead of driving it, and without saying another word, Reed climbs off me, moving me again until my head is against the pillow.
Then he tries to give me some space, but my arm reaches out and snatches around his waist, holding him in place.
His laugh is soft. “Who knew Wilder Miles would be a cuddler,” he muses, leaning over to turn off the bedside lamp without leaving my hold.
“If you tell anyone I’ll kick your ass,” I grumble, eyes heavy and closing.
"I don't think anyone's going to believe me,” he replies softly, pulling me into his arms, and a reluctant smile pulls at my mouth.
That’s the last thing I remember before I drift off to sleep.
When I wake up the next morning, my head is throbbing and my throat feels like I have licked sand. Light is flooding the room and I instantly snap my eyes back shut, groaning at the hazy memories of last night.
“Rough head, huh?” Reed says from across the room, and I startle slightly at the sound of his voice.
I glance up and immediately regret it, because Reed is sitting at the dressing table with damp hair, dripping down onto his stupidly expensive and pretty shirt.
He is ruffling a towel through his hair, while looking down at his phone, and I am instantly granted an image of him sitting on top of me last night.
Four days. Four fucking days.
I’m losing my fucking mind.
“I’ve never had any complaints,” I retort, purposely mistaking what he meant by his words, and he rolls his eyes playfully.
It’s the first time I have seen him back in his professional clothes since we got here, and I fucking hate it.
I hate that we have to go back to reality, and I contemplate setting the entire mountain on fire, just so we don’t have to leave.
Not because I particularly want to stay here in this lodge, or miss the EWC, but I do want to stay here in this bubble.
The Elite World Championship isn't a normal race weekend, it's the race weekend. One racers like me work their entire career for. It’s every major team, every major sponsor, every journalist that’s worth a damn, and every camera you can find watching our every move.
And there’s only one damn rookie in the whole thing.
The second we get to the hotel later, these last few days will disappear into nothing. I’ll be back in race mode, Knox, Beck, and Matt will just be my team having my back, and Reed will be nothing but my PR assistant. The thought leaves a sour taste on my tongue.
“This is all your fault,” I snap, simply because I know I can’t drag him back to the bed and ruin his stupid shirt. Not now that we are both sober, and no doubt are going to pretend last night never happened.
His gaze meets mine in confusion. “What’s my fault?” He looks genuinely serious, and I hate that the outside is already creeping in on us while we are still here. I’m sure he’s already got my schedule open on his phone right now.
“The fact we are leaving,” I tell him firmly, making his frown turn into exasperation, before he smiles slightly.
“Sorry, I wasn’t aware I controlled time,” he replies sarcastically, already sounding too much like Casper for my liking.
“Not what I meant,” I start, watching as he gives up on his hair and just smooths it back with his hand. Fuck, he’s so pretty. “You ruined my bad boy image and made me look too good, now everyone wants a piece of me.” A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, before he shakes his head.
“I thought you said you didn’t need help looking good, that it comes naturally to you?” he retorts, repeating what I once said to him.
He remembered what I said?
Surely that means he’s as obsessed with me as I am with him?