Chapter Thirteen
The Pops Bond
Ingrid
The highway stretches out before us, a few sparse cars up ahead. Oklahoma smells different. Like freshly cut grass and miles of open plains.
“What about sushi for dinner?” Cash suggests as he points to our exit.
Wilder nods, his dark sunglasses hiding his hazel eyes. “Sounds like a plan, man.”
Sometimes, I think they forget I’m back here.
“What if I want hibachi?” I ask.
Wilder flinches slightly. Just enough to prove my point.
“You guys forgot I was back here!” I yell.
Cash throws his head back and laughs as Wilder shakes his head, his burnt forearm flexing as he turns off the highway.
“We could never forget you, Blondie,” Wilder tries.
I cross my arms over my chest and huff. “You’d think my nickname being tattooed on your arm would help you remember I exist. I guess it doesn’t.”
“I didn’t forget,” Wilder lies. “I was just—”
“Busy bonding with his bestie,” Cash interjects.
“Shut up,” I say to him, narrowing my eyes. “Or you can sit back here.”
I could tell him that Wilder once said I’m his real best friend. But I’m trying to be nice.
It’s torture.
“You can take the front seat next stretch,” Cash offers.
“I think I’d prefer to sit up front,” I say. “And you two can be in the back.”
Wilder chuckles, and I instantly groan.
I know exactly where his mind has gone.
“Come on,” Cash says, slugging him in the arm. “You’re gross.”
Wilder points to himself. “I didn’t say anything!”
“We both know what you were thinking,” I tell him.
“You set yourself up for that one,” Wilder says, lowering his sunglasses and peering at me in the rearview mirror.
His words from earlier this morning send a spear of heat up my spine.
You never said I couldn’t seduce you, Ingrid.
That’s fair.
But he’s started a war he won’t win. He might try seducing me, but I know Wilder. He has zero willpower. Not when it comes to that, anyway.
“We’re almost there,” Cash announces as he points to the white, striped tower in front of us.
My cell vibrates in my hand, but I ignore it. Mom’s been blowing up my phone, trying to convince me to come home. She’s even offered to pay for a plane ticket at the nearest airport.
Which begs the question: why are Jason and Jill afraid of their eldest daughter?
Don’t get me wrong, I completely understand. Isla has zero boundaries with my parents. She walks all over them. She’s entitled and demanding. She wants what she wants and she’ll step all over them to get it.
Distance has made that crystal-clear.
But Jason and Jill raised her. They should have some insights into how to deal with her.
Instead, they call me.
Or ask me to be a distract Isla while… well, fill in the blank.
The further we drive away from them, the more and more it feels less like a home and more like a… war zone.
I need out.
Maybe I really do need to win that bet. If I do, I can move out, split the cost of rent and maybe get some peace and quiet.
My cell vibrates. Again.
“You should really get that, Blondie,” Wilder calls over his shoulder as he pulls into a parking spot.
My throat dries.
I don’t want to deal with the Winthrops right now.
I just want to be with Wilder.
But does he feel the same way?
The nagging sensation in my chest dissipates a little as Wilder reaches for my hand.
Cash walks in front of us as we head toward the tall structure.
It’s a white-striped soda bottle with a massive straw.
I shield my eyes as I stop and stare up at it.
“What do you think?” Wilder coos in my ear as he releases my hand and steps behind me.
His arms circle my waist, and I lean back into him, terrified and a little dazed.
If he’s hiding something, I’ll eventually find out. The question is whether it’s something that matters.
I shake my head, knocking the thoughts away.
We’re young, in love, and on a summer road trip. That should be the focus.
“Come on, Lovebirds,” Cash groans. “Let me take your picture.”
Wilder turns us, his lips grazing my ear. “We could call a temporary truce,” he whispers.
I ignore him and smile as Cash snaps a photo of us with his phone.
“What kind of truce?” I ask, already knowing full well he’s talking about the bet.
The bet I have to win.
“We could get our own hotel room tonight,” he proposes.
My spine stiffens. A night alone with Wilder? All to myself. I want that more than anything.
“How long would this truce last?” I ask him.
Wilder’s hands slide to my hips, and he presses a warm kiss on my shoulder. “Just one night.”
Um… YES!
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him.
“Offer expires in ten minutes, Blondie,” he warns as his hands drop from my waist.
I swallow hard.
A night alone. Without Cash. In a city where no one knows us.
Will one night be enough?
I jog to catch up to the boys.
“Wait,” Cash says as he holds out his arm. Wilder and I stop. “We should see who can find the weirdest flavor.”
“Isn’t that what we planned on doing?” I raise an eyebrow.
“We should wager—”
“No,” I groan. “I can only handle so many bets and wagers before I lose it.”
Cash laughs. “You’re so dramatic, Ingrid.
I roll my eyes as we walk inside. It’s packed full of people. Glass soda bottles line the slanted walls in rows—red, blue, orange, yellow, and green. There are tables and chairs in the center. People are eating, laughing, and conversing.
And for the first time in a year, none of us are fighting.
That’s a win in my book.
“How many grams of sugar do you think are in these sodas?” Cash asks me.
“I’m dramatic?” I scoff. “You’re on a road trip and you’re worried about how much sugar is in a soda? Relax.”
“You know I won’t eat anything unless it’s vegetables.” There’s a beat before he adds, Raw veggies. I prefer them raw. Not cooked.”
“Oh,” I say, winking at Wilder, “you like it raw, Cash. I had no idea.”
“Not so loud, Blondie,” Wilder chides me with a grin as a few heads turn in our direction. “No one needs to know Cash likes it raw.”
Cash exhales heavily. “You two are so immature.”
Wilder drapes his arm over my shoulders. “We are, aren’t we?”
I push up onto my tippy toes and kiss his lips. They taste like mint and Wilder and something terrifyingly close to home.
He sighs against my mouth and every single worry that’s wormed its way into my chest disappears.
Things are fine. We’re fine.
“Okay,” I tell Wilder.
“Okay what?” He smiles and it steals the breath from my lungs.
“You can have your one-night truce.”
Wilder smirks. “Couldn’t even go four days, Blondie. How embarrassing.”
I run a hand over my face. I walked right into that one, didn’t I?
Then, his fingers thread through mine, and he points to the rows of sodas.
“Let’s find the weirdest soda,” Wilder whispers. “And beat Cash at his own game.”
He leads the way, and I happily follow along, my fingers still securely wrapped in his.
There are over six hundred flavors. Regular soda—root beer, lemon-lime—and fruity flavors like watermelon and peach. We grab a few dessert-named ones to try.
Wilder’s thumb runs along the back of my hand as we slowly make our way through the rows and head over to a wall of refrigerators.
And I decide that as much as I love sarcastic Wilder and falling-in-love-with-me Wilder, I love this version of him the most. The road-tripping Wilder. The version of him that doesn’t seem trapped. We’re not worried about running into Archibald or Fertile Felicia.
It’s… nice.
“What’s going through your head?” Wilder asks.
“I was just thinking how nice this is,” I say with a long sigh.
“How nice what is?”
“Just being together,” I tell him, my voice soft. “It’s nice to exist in a new place just as we are—and not how everyone sees us.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Have you ever…” I trail off, biting my lip.
I’m not sure I’m ready to bare my soul in a soda shop on route 66 in the middle of Oklahoma.
He looks at me like I’m the only person in here. “Have I ever what?”
I shrug. “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to start over somewhere new?” I ask. “You know, just the two of us?”
Wilder swallows hard. Too hard.
Red flag.
I know that’s a red flag.
But then he says, “I think about it all the time.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” he admits, his voice rough. “We have the same wound, Blondie, but we also have the same chip on our shoulder. We carry more than we’re supposed to. Me with my mom and… and you with your parents.”
I don’t know what to say.
“I know Isla has been a lot,” Wilder continues.
“She’s the worst,” I say weakly.
“You would move?” he asks.
I nod slowly. “I think so.”
His eyebrows knit together. “A new city?”
“Would you?” I counter. “Would you want to leave your grandparents?”
Wilder sucks in a harsh breath. “I would only go if you went with me, Ingrid. But what about school? Neither of us can afford anything but community college.”
I consider it. The no money thing. I’ve never been big on student loans. I know they work for Isla, but I see the strain it’s put on Jason and Jill. I would never ask them to do that for me.
And because I’ve seen my parents struggle financially, I don’t think I would want to accumulate a ton of debt.
Wilder and I have that in common.
“If I couldn’t afford school,” I say, exhaling, “I think I’d just work. Maybe do online classes. Pay as I go.”
His face hardens. “Yeah.”
I wrap my arms around his neck, his body warm and solid against mine.
“If you wanted to go somewhere—anywhere—I would go, Wilder.”
He looks torn. And I can’t quite figure out why.
“You two done making out yet?” Cash interrupts and I see Wilder’s face rearrange into something a lot like disappointment.
“We weren’t making out,” I say as I turn to face Cash.
He watches me closely. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Wilder and I say at the same time.
“Did you find any crazy flavors?” I ask, changing the subject.
Cash gives us a shit-eating grin. “I did.”
Then, he holds up a glass bottle. Buffalo Wing Sauce soda. Ew.
I scrunch my nose. “That looks disgusting.”
“We’re all going to try it,” he informs us. “Now, what did you two find?”
Wilder holds up our best find. “Chocolate-Covered, Maple-Smoked Bacon.”
“That’s not gross enough,” Cash triumphantly decides.
“We also found peanut butter and jelly,” I tell him.
“I win,” he says.
Wilder and I share a look.
The thing about Cash is that he’s an only child. Well, technically, he’s not. He has a half-sister. Maybe two. Who knows.
The point is, he was spoiled. Wilder and I know it. So, we’ve always sort of just let him have his way.
And this is one of those situations where it’s just easier to agree with him.
Wait. I think they call that character growth.
Right?
We pay, then take our sodas to the car. Once we’re there, I pop open the hood and we all sit on the edge of my car, me in the middle.
Then, we take turns trying all the weird flavors.
We laugh. We talk. The sun lowers in the sky.
And for once, no one fights.
I wish this could last forever. I wish Wilder and Cash could get along no matter what happens. I wish Cash and I could figure things out. That we could peacefully co-exist as the two most important people in Wilder’s life—even if we share a rough past.
History.
It’s hard to outrun when the only two boys I’ve ever loved are sitting on either side of me.
And they’re both hiding a secret from me.
The question is: which one will be brave enough to finally tell me?