Chapter Nine
The Mixed Signals
Ingrid
“You're paying me for the new sensor and labor,” the mechanic clarifies. “There's no such thing as a free lunch, kid.”
The mechanic wipes his greasy hands on an equally soiled rag. “It helps regulate your vehicle's air-to-fuel ratio.”
“Which makes the car run more efficiently?” Wilder guesses.
“Basically.” The mechanic shrugs. “If it goes bad, you'd find yourself with a host of problems like a rough idle and shitty acceleration.”
“Okay.” I nod slowly, not understanding a single word.
“Archibald Allred is going to love this,” Cash mutters, dropping his head into his hands as the mechanic swipes his crisp black card.
“We'll figure out a way to pay him back,” I quietly tell Cash. “Or we can blackmail him.”
“Blackmail?” Cash turns his head to peer over at me. “How would we blackmail him?”
Wilder and I share a look.
“We may have collected some very incriminating photos of Archibald over the past year,” I divulge with a grin.
“I don't want to know,” Cash groans as he squeezes his eyes shut.
“Are you sure you don't want me to pay for this?” Wilder mumbles to my left. “I have the money.”
“You have money for school,” I remind him. “My car, my problem.”
“But you'll let Cash pay to get it fixed?” Wilder scoffs.
I exhale heavily. “No, I'm letting Archibald pay. And honestly, after all the secrets we've kept for him, he owes us.”
Wilder grunts before sliding off the stool beside me and heading outside. I'm not sure why his panties are in a twist. I'll ask him later.
“What crawled up his ass?” Cash snorts.
“Did you just say ass?” I tilt my head to the side.
“Wild is rubbing off on me.” He runs a hand over his face. “Living with him has me picking up new habits like not wearing a belt with my pants and leaving the house without cologne. It's so bad I'm even saying pussy now.”
I clamp a hand on his back. “I'm proud of you, Cash Allred. You're really sticking it to the man, aren't you?”
Cash's blue eyes sparkle. “Yeah, I am.”
I chuckle as the mechanic hands back the credit card. “I'll have my guy, Ernie, back the car out for you guys.”
“Thank you,” I tell the mechanic as I hop off my stool.
Cash stares at the piece of plastic in his hand. “I can't believe the card worked,” he says in awe.
I can’t believe it either. Maybe Archibald forgot to cancel it?
“Thank you for paying for my broken sensor,” I say to Cash.
“Your expensive broken sensor,” he reiterates.
“I'll pay you back,” I promise.
Cash raises an eyebrow at me. “You could have just let Wild pay.”
I shake my head. “No, he needs that money for school. He's worked so hard to save every cent so he doesn't have to take out any loans. I can't ask him to do that for me.”
“Yeah,” Cash scoffs, holding open the glass door for me, “but he wanted to.”
I scratch the side of my face. “I know he wanted to, but I guess it's easier for me to let you pay because I know we're using your dad's money. And Archibald has more than enough of it to go around until I can pay him back.”
“I see how it is, Ingrid,” Cash playfully tsks me. “You just like me for my family's money.”
“Jokes on you.” I scrunch my face in mock disgust. “I don't like you at all.”
Cash rolls his blue eyes. “I walked right into that one, didn't I?”
“You did,” I inform him.
Wilder avoids looking at me as Ernie backs my car out of the garage. Confused, I walk over to him and slip my fingers in his.
“Hey,” I say quietly.
Wilder exhales heavily, his gaze locked on the tan-colored building. “Hey.”
“What's wrong?” I ask.
Wilder shrugs. “Don't worry about it, Blondie.”
I lick my lips nervously. “Really? This is how you're going to act now?”
He stiffens beside me. “Really.”
I let his hand go. “I'll drive.”
Wilder doesn't protest. He doesn't even bother trying to sit in the front seat next to me. He climbs in the back, buckles his seat belt, and slips on his sunglasses.
Despite my best efforts, heat builds behind my eyes as I put the car in drive.
I hold back the tears, wondering why Wilder's behavior feels so much like rejection.
The miles of tree-lined highway stretch on for what feels like a lifetime. Every hill, every bend makes the silence feel heavier.
I can't handle Wilder sitting behind me, sunglasses covering his hazel eyes, while Cash sits next to me, focused on the stupid Road Trip playlist he's been perfecting for the past three hours.
Torture.
This is torture.
And it's worse than any punishment Queen Isla has ever doled out.
I can handle my sister upturning our lives at every turn.
I can even handle her trying to turn my room into her nursery.
But I can't handle Wilder blatantly ignoring me.
I can't handle him sulking because I did what he asked—which was to get along with Cash.
This is so stupid.
I thought I understood Wilder. Thought I knew him. Thought I knew how much he loved me and how important I am to him.
Maybe that's not the issue.
Maybe the issue is that he doesn't truly know me.
My heart throbs.
I really hope that’s not what’s going on here.
Should I confront him?
There's a sign for a rest stop in one mile. I could stop there and force Wilder to talk to me.
Will he, though?
I have to try. I won't spend this road trip on good terms with my ex-boyfriend and on bad terms with my current one.
“I have to pee,” I announce loudly as I point to the rest stop sign.
Cash crosses his arms over his chest in the passenger seat. “And I need to stretch. Your car isn't made for long legs.”
Wilder scoffs from the backseat, refusing to look anywhere but out the window.
I ignore them both as my palms begin sweating. When it comes to confrontation, I don't have a problem engaging my family. I've been confronting Isla for years and it's become second nature.
Confronting Wilder, though, still scares me a little. He's stubborn, and I know he won’t bend unless he really wants to mend things between us.
And if he won't do it, then where does that leave us?
Cash hops out of the car before I even have it in park. I guess he can feel the tension bouncing between Wilder and me. Can't blame him for wanting to escape whatever's about to go down.
“We need to talk,” I say to Wilder as I stare at him in the rearview mirror.
“About?” He snaps as he pushes the sunglasses further up his face.
I twist to face him. “We'll walk and talk.”
“Fine,” he grunts as he pushes open the car door.
I forgot how much I love dramatic, infantile Wilder.
Oh wait, I don't.
“What's going on?” I ask as we slowly walk toward the green, circular building.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” Wilder chuffs.
I shake my head. “No, you don't get to shut down right now. You wanted me to come on this road trip. Don’t shut me out because I’m doing what you asked.”
He lets out a dramatic exhale. “Which is?”
He's really starting to get on my nerves.
“I’m getting along with Cash,” I remind him.
“I said get along with him, Blondie,” Wilder grinds out. “I didn’t say drool all over him.”
That was a low blow.
I step in front of him and place my hand on his chest, right over his heart. “What's really going on?”
He doesn't respond.
“I can't fix it if you don't tell me what this is really about,” I challenge. “We have a long drive ahead of us and I won't spend it getting the silent treatment from you.”
“You're smart.” Wilder clears his throat. “You figure it out.”
“You know what?” I take my hand off his chest. “If I wanted to speak in riddles, I'd call Jill. I don't have the energy to figure out what stupid little thing set you off. At least have the decency to tell me.”
“Fine,” Wilder grunts and swipes his sunglasses off his face. “You let Cash pay for the sensor.”
I run a hand over my face. “Are you being serious right now?”
“I told you I could pay for it,” he replies coolly.
“I know,” I say softly. “I know you have the money, but I didn't want you to use your school money to pay for my broken car on a trip to go see Cash’s girlfriend—or whoever we’re going to see. He should have to pay for it, Wilder. And more importantly, he can afford it.”
“I can afford it, too,” Wilder seethes.
“I know you can,” I reassure him as I place my hands on his broad shoulders.
“Then why didn't you let me?” There's so much hurt in his voice, my ears ache.
There’s a million reasons why I didn’t let him pay, but he won’t hear any of them right now.
Defuse, Ingrid. Defuse this situation fast.
“Wilder.” I swallow hard. “I'm sorry. I should have let you pay. I know you might not understand, but I—”
“You're so used to Cash paying for everything that you just assumed he'd pay for this, too?” Wilder interrupts with a snarky swipe.
I take a deep breath, giving myself time to pause before I say something we'll both regret.
“Somewhere in there,” I say gently as I raise my hand to show him the diamond band he gave me, “is my boyfriend. The guy who put this ring on my hand and promised me a future. Where is he?”
I watch as the walls he's been constructing all day start to crumble. “I...”
“You want me to get along with Cash?” I tilt my head to the side. “Then, let me get along with Cash.”
“But what if you realize you—” He stops.
Oh.
So that’s what this is really about.
“I'm not going to realize that he's better for me or that I still love him,” I say what he can't. “I only want you.
But wanting you means accepting that Cash is part of the deal.
I'm trying and all you're doing is sending me mixed signals.
If I don't get along with Cash, you feel secure in our relationship but insecure in your friendship with him.
If I do get along with Cash, you feel insecure in our relationship. You can't have it both ways.”
Wilder exhales heavily. “Cash and I are solid.”
“Are you?”
“After everything I've done, he's still here,” Wilder says with a shrug.
“And I won't always be?” I conclude.
“I didn't say that, Blondie,” he argues as he raises a dark eyebrow. “I was trying to get out that my friendship status with Cash isn't dependent on how well you two get along.”
“But it makes your life easier,” I say as I cross my hands over my chest.
“It makes this trip easier,” he clarifies. “When I asked you to try to get along with him, I didn't mean to become his best friend. I meant to be civil.”
“I am being civil,” I defend myself.
“He's still in love with you,” Wilder confesses.
What?
No, Cash isn’t. He hasn’t been in love with me for a long time.
I swallow hard. “No, he's not.”
Wilder sighs and runs a hand over his face. “He is. I can see it written all over his face.”
“Then why are we driving across the country so he can meet another girl?” I let out an exasperated sigh.
He shakes his dark head. “I haven't figured that part out yet.”
“Because there's nothing to figure out.” I narrow my eyes. “I'm in love with you, and he's meeting someone he's been talking to for the past year.”
Wilder chews on the inside of his cheek. “I guess we'll see.”
Annoyed, I blow out a tired breath. “Are we done fighting now?”
He hitches his shoulder. “I don't know.”
“Well,” I say as I step forward. “I say we are. Now, kiss me.”
Despite his best brooding efforts, he smiles. “No.”
“Yes,” I argue as I wrap my arms around his neck. “Kiss me.”
He slowly shakes his head. “No.”
“Kiss me, Wilder.”
Finally, he gives in and bends his head. As our lips collide, the worry in my stomach coils tight like a fist. I don't know why this moment feels so pivotal.
But it does.
Because all I can think is: will this be one of those fights I look back on and know it was beginning of the end?
Or will it be just a blip on our radar?
Something we forget ever happened.
I guess only time will tell.