Chapter Eleven
The Cash Exposure
Wilder
“Wait,” I say to Ingrid as she reaches for the motel room door.
Her lips are still swollen and red from our make-out session down the street, and her brown eyes are sparkling beneath the overhead light.
She smiles up at me. “What?”
I slide my fingers through her blond hair, gently tilting her face. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she immediately replies. And the fact that she doesn't even have to think about her response makes my heart beat faster.
My lips find hers and I kiss her slowly, tasting the cherry lip balm she applied a few minutes ago.
She presses her body against mine and I exhale. I've never been more afraid to lose someone.
When Ingrid let Cash pay for the car repair instead of me, I nearly lost it.
I guess in a way, I did lose it. I immediately put up walls, preparing myself for the worst. Cash spent four long years with her.
They have history, and though Ingrid would never admit it, there's an ease with Cash she doesn't have with me.
I'm sure we'll get there with time, but our relationship feels different.
I can't save the day with my dad's credit card.
“I wish we could be alone,” she murmurs.
My dick strains against my jeans. “You and me both.”
“What if we...” She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Take a shower?”
“He'd know what we were doing,” I say as I cup her cheek. “I don't want to make this trip any more uncomfortable than it already is.”
“Next stop, we are getting our own room,” she decides.
“Sounds like a plan.” I smile, then kiss her again.
“Ugh,” Ingrid groans against my lips. “I guess we should head in there.”
“At least Cash let us do our first bucket list item alone,” I say, trying to find the silver lining.
“Yeah, I guess,” she replies. “But I thought the whole point of the bucket list was so that we could all bond.”
“We can bond on the next one,” I offer.
Ingrid purses her lips. “You're right.”
I kiss her one last time before I pull out the motel room key card. As a green light flashes, I grab the door handle and swing it open. Ingrid ducks under my arm, the enticing smell of honey and cinnamon wafting through the air.
I’m so distracted, I don't hear the moans at first. Don't even realize Ingrid is stopped dead in her tracks. Don't bother to read the room before I toss the room key on the dresser.
But then, Ingrid inhales sharply and my eyes dart to the bed closest to the bathroom.
“What the fuck!” I yell as my best-friend-slash-roommate is beating his meat to a very graphic porno. I don't miss the petite blond on his laptop screen.
Cash screams and slams his computer closed, standing in the process. His hard dick sways as he struggles to pull his jeans up his legs, and I don't know whether to laugh or groan.
Ingrid covers her eyes with her hands and I sigh heavily. “What are you doing, man?”
“I didn't think...” Cash trails off as he yanks on his jeans, but his right hand slips and he slaps himself in the face.
My mouth falls open as I watch his face turn bright red.
“Could you turn around?” he hollers at me.
“No,” I say as I cross my arms over my chest. “Why the fuck would you be jerking off when you knew we'd be coming back?”
Ingrid turns her back to Cash and I find myself wondering what she's thinking. Did she like what she saw? Or is she as horrified as I am?
“I... uh...” Cash mumbles as he finally gets his jeans over his deflating dick.
“You what?” I ask as I tilt my head to the side.
“I didn't expect...” he trails off again.
“Go wash your hands,” I groan as I reach a hand toward Ingrid. “You can open your eyes now. Cash is... decent.”
“I'm sorry,” Cash offers over his shoulder as he heads toward the bathroom.
I sigh a breath of relief when the door shuts behind him.
“That was...” Ingrid runs a hand over her face. “Interesting.”
“Didn’t realize Cash watched porn in shared spaces.” I shake my head, trying to get the image of the blond getting absolutely wrecked in doggy style.
“Oh,” Ingrid smirks, smiling wide. “I thought you and Cash talked about the weird shit you do in the bedroom.”
She never forgets a thing.
“Yeah, with girls,” I clarify. “Not solo.”
“If I remember correctly,” she raises a challenging eyebrow as she moves closer, “you liked to tell me you did the same thing while thinking of my boobs.”
I grin at the fond memory. “I couldn't help it. Sometimes, they'd be hanging out and making me think about all the things I'd like to do to them. Or on them.”
Her hand slips behind my neck as she tugs my face down to hers. “I would let you do anything you wanted to them right now, but you don't want to take a shower with me.”
Groaning, I say, “Still the biggest tease I know,” before kissing her.
She laughs against my mouth, and all the anger I felt toward her—misplaced anger—fades into the background.
Anger that she didn't choose me when she needed help paying for the car repair.
Anger that she blamed me for never having a moment alone with Cash when they obviously spent time going to parties without me.
Anger that they had years together before me. Real, messy, first love history.
History that scares the shit out of me.
“A shower could be fun,” she mumbles against my mouth as the bathroom door squeaks open.
My lips slide to her ear and I whisper, “Tempting, but no.”
“Well,” Cash awkwardly says as he throws a thumb over his shoulder. “Do we need to talk about that or...”
The fact that he was masturbating to a blond that looks eerily similar to Ingrid? Yeah, let’s talk about how that pisses me the fuck off.
At this point, I'd like to bash his face if I'm being honest.
But I keep those vengeful thoughts to myself and say, “Keep it to the shower from now on.”
“Will do,” Cash agrees quickly.
Ingrid shifts from one foot to the other, and I just know she's going to say something she shouldn't.
“So,” she begins, “are we ever going to talk about this mystery girl you’re texting?”
“She's not a mystery.” Cash waves her off as he plops onto his bed.
“Do you have a picture of her?” Ingrid asks. “I don't think I even know her name.”
Cash runs a hand through his hair. The same hand he was just spanking the monkey with.
“Her name is Britta,” Cash reluctantly says.
“Can I see a picture of her?” Ingrid crosses her arms over her chest. I can't get a read on why she wants to see what Cash's pen pal looks like.
“Uh, yeah,” Cash says as he grabs his cell phone.
Ingrid tilts her head to the side as she studies him.
I don't bother looking at the photo on the screen as Cash holds it up.
I watch her.
“Brunette?” Ingrid raises her eyebrows slightly.
“Yep,” Cash replies.
“She looks nice,” Ingrid says.
Cash just nods.
“Um,” I interrupt whatever weird ex vibes they're giving off. “What time do we want to leave in the morning?”
“Seven?” Ingrid suggests.
“Yeah, that works,” Cash agrees.
“I'll set my alarm then,” I say as I rub a hand over my face. I just want this day over with.
Ingrid changes in the bathroom while I strip off my shirt and jeans. Cash avoids eye contact as I slide into the second bed in my boxers. I don't have the energy to make small talk. He doesn't seem to want to.
The tension thickens until the bathroom door opens and Ingrid emerges in her favorite Smashing Trout tee and flannel shorts. I watch as she tosses her clothes onto her suitcase and then makes a beeline for our bed.
I don't want to be territorial, but something protective blares in my chest, and I find myself wrapping a possessive arm around her waist the second she’s beside me.
My phone vibrates on the bedside table, but I ignore it.
“It could be your sister,” Ingrid says quietly as she buries her face in my chest and sighs. “You should respond to her.”
For a split second, my eyes meet Cash's. There are too many secrets. Secrets that he knows and Ingrid doesn't. Secrets that could blow up in my face if I'm not careful.
“I'll text her back later,” I tell Ingrid as I look away from Cash's warning glare. “I'm sure she's just checking in to see if I'm going on the family summer vacation to Orange Beach.”
Ingrid yawns. “I'm so sleepy.”
My fingers slip under her chin, and she glances up at me.
“I love you,” I whisper low enough so Cash can't hear.
“I love you more.”
The corners of her eyes crinkle as I kiss her lips, swallowing the words.
Minutes later, Ingrid is drifting off to sleep as my cell phone sits on that bedside table, calling to me. I carefully reach behind me and grab it.
Two messages from Elowyn.
“You can't avoid her forever,” Cash says quietly from his bed.
I quickly glance down at Ingrid, but she's passed out.
“I'm not avoiding,” I clarify. “I'm...”
“Listen, man,” Cash says as he reaches for the lamp on his side table, “eventually, you're going to have to deal with it. The longer you run from it, the faster it's going to catch up to you.”
With that, he turns off the light, covering us in darkness.
I'm not trying to avoid or run from Margot's cancer. I just... I feel guilty as fuck. Guilty that for so many years I wished something horrible would happen to my dad. Something that would upend his world the way he upended mine.
I didn't expect this, but I hoped for it.
I'm not a bad person. The kind of pain my dad left me with, though, it's so fucking big.
I see it everywhere I look. I always have.
Every time I leave the house, I see a dad tossing a ball in the front yard with his son.
Or I see dads at restaurants with their families.
There's no escaping the pain that mine didn't want a goddamn thing to do with me.
So, I hoped he'd feel the kind of pain I do.
The kind of pain losing someone who used to feel like your whole world.
I hold Ingrid tighter, my heart racing.
My dad was never my whole world.
But she is.
And every mile closer to California feels like another mile I’m losing her.