Chapter Eight
The Bucket List
Wilder
I pull into a gas station somewhere between Asheville and Pigeon Forge desperate for a cup of coffee. Ingrid is sleeping beside me, missing the gorgeous sunrise out the window. But her fingers are laced in mine, and I take a sobering breath.
Nothing—fucking nothing—beats a week with Ingrid and zero responsibility.
Well, other than making sure we get to California and back.
“You going to wake her, or keep making googly eyes at her?” Cash quips from the back seat.
He's still bitter he overheard me making his ex-girlfriend scream while exchanging pleasantries with Mr. Winthrop this morning. Honestly, he’s just collateral damage in the Ingrid-Isla war. But I mean, aren't we all?
“Hey,” I say quietly as my fingers lightly squeeze Ingrid's hand.
Her sleepy brown eyes are glazed over as she sits up and licks her lips. “Coffee?”
“Definitely coffee.”
Cash scoffs from the back seat. “Are we going to sit here all day?”
“Would you be opposed to me strangling him to death?” Ingrid raises an eyebrow.
I shake my head. “Have at it.”
“You two are annoying,” Cash snaps as he opens the door and scrambles out.
“We've apologized a dozen times,” Ingrid exhales sharply. “What more can we do?”
I've been asking that myself for the past two hours.
I understand why Cash is angry. If anyone gets it, it's me.
I walked in on him doing all kinds of things to Ingrid when they were dating.
None of which I ever wanted to think about.
But I had to suck it up and quietly shut the door.
I had to push it out of my mind and move on.
I never made a big deal out of it. Never punished either of them for it.
Fine. I punished Ingrid once. That final time when I egged on Fanny Allred at Cash's going away party. It was shitty of me, but I couldn't believe Ingrid would sleep with Cash after months of him ignoring her. After months of him pushing her away.
“You look deep in thought,” Ingrid interrupts my jumbled thoughts with an elbow nudge.
I use my free hand to run my fingers through her hair. As I tug her closer, she smiles.
“I love you,” I say to her.
She grins sheepishly. “I love you, too.”
I kiss her quickly, fully aware that Cash is lurking somewhere close by.
“I need coffee,” she mumbles against my lips. “And to pee.”
“Fine.” I sigh and press my forehead to hers. “We can make out later.”
“You mean in a week?” She jokes.
I groan. “Don't remind me.”
I hold her hand as we walk into the gas station. Cash rolls his eyes when he sees us. Thankfully, Ingrid doesn't notice.
Eventually, he's going to make me choose. I know he is. He's going to push me to the point where I have to decide whether his friendship is more important or if my relationship with Ingrid is.
I already know who I'm going to choose. That doesn't mean it won't hurt like hell when I finally do. But he's not going to win this one. At some point last summer, when Cash was backpacking through Europe and avoiding me, Ingrid fell in love with me. I was already head over heels in love with her.
But she chose me.
“Can you stand outside the bathroom while I...” Ingrid motions to the fading red restroom door.
“Yes,” I answer knowing full well she’s terrified of being murdered in a gas station bathroom.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “I'll be quick.”
“I'll be right here,” I promise her as she disappears inside.
Cash shakes his head at me as he passes by with his paid merchandise in hand.
“Never thought I'd see the day you were pussy whipped.”
“Did you just say pussy?” I blink slowly.
“Yup,” he answers. “You have a problem with that?”
Confrontational Cash is almost as obnoxious as Martyr Cash. “Nope.”
“Good.”
I nod to him as he stands beside me. I'm not sure what to say, so I shove my hands into the pockets of my jeans and focus on the chipping red paint on the door.
“I'm surprised you didn't go in with her,” Cash starts.
I’m not interested in getting into a pissing match with him.
“You want to drive the next shift?” I change the subject.
“No,” Cash answers. “But I'd like to sit in the front seat since I've been wide awake all morning and Ingrid's been—”
“While I've been what?” Ingrid challenges as the door whips open.
“I'll drive,” Cash mutters to me. “I'll be in the car.”
I watch him go as Ingrid heads toward the coffee machine.
“Why did we agree to do this with him again?” she asks me.
“Because he's our friend,” I answer weakly.
“He's your friend,” she makes clear.
“Which makes him your friend by default,” I remind her.
“No.” She shakes her blond head as she grabs a Styrofoam cup out of the dispenser. “He’ll always be the guy who used me to get back at his mother.”
I pinch my nose with my thumb and forefinger. “Here we go.”
We’re only a few hours into this road trip and I’m already starting to think it’s the worst decision of my life.
“What?” Ingrid whips her head back.
“Nothing.” I sigh. “Just going to be a long week with you two butting heads.”
“He's the one who can't keep his mouth shut,” she argues.
“I know this is a huge ask,” I breathe through my nose, “but can you please not engage with him?”
Ingrid furrows her brow. “Is everything okay?”
I scratch the side of my face. “I'm tired of being in the middle. Kind of feels like it did when my parents separated and I had to go between houses.”
Her face fills with mortification. “I-I didn't realize... I'm sorry. I never meant to do that to you.”
“It's mostly Cash,” I admit. “But when you play right into his hand, it...”
“Bothers you,” she concludes.
“Ingrid.” I cup her cheek in my hand, searching her face. Did I ask too much of her by begging her to come on this road trip? Am I putting too much pressure on our relationship by forcing her to spend time with her ex-boyfriend? “You know if the choice came down to it, I'd choose you, right?”
Her impossibly large eyes crinkle in the corners. “I know.”
“Is this too much?” I ask, not sure I want to hear the answer.
She chews on her lower lip. “If I'm being really honest with myself—and you—I'm still angry with Cash.”
“You are?” I inhale sharply.
“I'm mad he wasted so much of my time.” She swallows hard. “Time I could have been with you.”
“We're together now,” I assure her.
She shifts uncomfortably.
She thinks I'm going to get tired of her.
I know she thinks I want to release Wild Cox into the.
.. wild. The fear is written all over her face every time we have a serious conversation or disagree about something inconsequential.
So, I do what I always do. I lean forward and kiss her.
I kiss her to remind her that no version of her would ever make me run in the other direction.
Not jealous Ingrid. Or angry Ingrid. Or doubtful Ingrid.
“I love you,” I say to her, making sure she hears every word. “I'm not going anywhere.”
She gives me a small smile before exhaling. “Cash is...”
“Waiting.” I smirk. “I know.”
“I'll sit in the back,” she decides. “Give Cash some time with his bestie up front.”
I drape my arm over her shoulders as we head toward the cash register. “You're the best girlfriend in the whole world.”
Ingrid shrugs. “I know.”
By the time we're back on the road, and I’ve kicked Cash to the passenger seat, I make sure I can see Ingrid's face in the rearview mirror. Cash connects his phone to the stereo and Smashing Trout blares through the speakers.
I groan as Ingrid laughs and starts singing along to the song.
“Turn this shit off!” I whine as I grip the steering wheel tighter. “I can't stand them.”
“That's not what you said when we went to their concert last summer,” Ingrid teases me.
“They're small-town legends,” Cash interjects. “Just like your penis.”
I watch Ingrid's face contort into something a lot like rage in the backseat. But as soon as the anger appears, it's gone.
Cash twists in the front passenger seat and faces Ingrid. “Remember when we took my dad's Porsche to that rave junior year and Smashing Trout was playing?”
Rave? Ingrid went to a rave?
Wait—Cash went to a rave?
“Oh my gawwwdddd,” Ingrid drawls. “And you got drunk on blueberry wine because you thought it was—”
“Blueberry tea!” Cash finishes the sentence.
Jealousy twists in my chest.
“And I had to drive home,” Ingrid chuckles.
“But you didn't know how to drive a stick shift,” Cash laughs, clapping his hands together.
“So, I drove in first gear all the way home,” she says with a soft sigh, ending the hilarious story.
A moment of awkward silence follows.
What—and I can’t stress this enough—the actual fuck?
But Cash interrupts the quiet.
“Good times,” he says, the sound light and airy.
“I didn't know you two went to a rave,” I huff.
“It was nothing,” Ingrid hums. “We thought we were going to one of Archibald's friend's son's house parties.”
“And you didn't invite me?” I playfully punch Cash in the arm.
The car fills with silence after that. Huh. Weird.
“We should, uh, make a bucket list,” Ingrid proposes from the back seat. “You know, to help the trip go by faster. I looked up some places yesterday that might be fun to check out.”
“Like?” Cash raises his eyebrows, intrigued.
“Like Beale Street and the Grand Canyon,” she tells him.
“The Grand Canyon's out of our way,” Cash interjects.
“Oh,” Ingrid says quietly. “Okay.”
“But,” Cash adds as he runs a hand through his hair. “When are we going to be this close to it again?”
I watch my girlfriend—the love of my life—give Cash a breathtaking smile just like she used to when she was in love with him. Something twists and turns inside my chest like a knife. And it hurts.
“Really?” She sounds disgustingly hopeful.
“Really,” Cash affirms, glancing over his shoulder at her. “I heard there's this cool place in Oklahoma City called Pops. It's off Route 66. There's a gigantic soda bottle out front. They also have some interesting flavors like Kitty Litter.”
“I'll add it to the list!” Ingrid wiggles excitedly in the backseat as she writes on a napkin. “We can also stop at Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo.”
“I've heard of that place,” Cash replies. “A group of artists buried like ten Cadillacs in the dirt.”
“Added!” Ingrid beams. “Anything else?”
I stare straight ahead at the empty highway, wondering why I thought this was a good idea.
“There's a tramway in New Mexico,” Cash mentions. He pulls it up on his phone. “Let me see where exactly.”
“Wilder,” Ingrid calls to me.
“Yeah?” I manage to get out through the haze of envy clouding my vision. One year ago, I was the one making a bucket list with her. I was the one making her smile. Now, it's Cash?
“Do you want to add anything?” Her wrist finds my shoulder and she rests it on me.
“Have fun,” I suggest sarcastically.
“Didn't you want to swim in the Pacific Ocean?” she remembers.
“Yeah,” I reply, clearing my throat. “Yeah, I did.”
“Sandia Peak Tramway,” Cash announces loudly. “It's in Albuquerque and it's the third longest single span in the world.”
“Oh, third?” Ingrid tuts. “So impressive.”
“Third longest span of what?” I scrunch my face.
“The ride,” Cash says, pretending to slap the back of my head. “Pay attention.”
“What would we be riding in?” I narrow my eyes at him.
Cash grins. “Three miles in a box together.”
“Oh.” Ingrid snorts. “Basically what we're doing now.”
“Yeah,” Cash says, voice entirely too hopeful for a guy who just told me I was pussy whipped. “Except we'll be suspended in the air.”
I roll my eyes. “Great.”
“It's okay, Wild.” Cash pats my arm. “I'll hold your hand if you get scared.”
“Just because I had a meltdown on the zipline at the park seven years ago,” I breathe heavily, “does not mean I am afraid of heights.”
“I guess we'll find out,” Cash chuckles and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Alright,” Ingrid chirps. “Since our first stop is Memphis, we'll be walking Beale Street at night. Then, stop at Pops in Oklahoma City to sample their weird sodas. Take a picture at Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo, ride the Sandia Peak Tramway in Albuquerque, visit the Grand Canyon, and swim in the Pacific Ocean. What am I forgetting?”
“Have fun?” Cash repeats my words from earlier.
“Yes!” She chews on the inside of her cheek in the rearview mirror. “Have. Fun.”
As jealousy and envy battle for territory in my chest, the check engine light flashes on the dashboard.
“Uh oh,” I mutter.
“What?” Ingrid’s voice comes out panicky and rushed.
I pull over to the side of the highway as a car whizzes past.
“We need to find a mechanic.”