Chapter Seventeen
The Love Confession
Ingrid
“I’m so tired,” Wilder groans as he flops onto our shared bed. Cash is on the other bed, checking his messages.
“Anything from Britta?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I told her I was coming to see her, and now she’s been MIA.”
That can’t be good.
“I’m sure she’s just excited,” I lie.
Cash gives me a side-eye. “If that’s what helps you sleep at night.”
“What would help me sleep,” Wilder interjects and yawns, “is silence.”
“Guess you shouldn’t have been up all night last night,” Cash returns.
“Guess you should start sharing the driving duties,” Wilder grumbles.
“What about Ingrid?” Cash retorts.
I roll my eyes. “You throw a bitch fit every time I sit in the front seat, Cash.”
“I do not,” he says, placing a hand on his chest as if he can’t believe I’d have the audacity to accuse him of such a crime.
“You do, too,” I argue with a laugh.
Cash stands from the bed, looking uneasy.
“I just don’t like feeling left out,” he says.
“You’re Cash Allred,” Wilder groans. “No one leaves you out.”
Cash opens his mouth, then closes it, swallowing whatever he was going to say.
“I’m going to jump in the shower real quick,” Cash announces as Wilder shoves his arms under a pillow and makes himself comfortable.
“Okay,” I say to him.
“Blondie,” Wilder calls to me.
I sit on the bed bedside him and run my fingers through his dark hair.
“You’re tired,” I say as we hear Cash close the bathroom door.
He gives me a sheepish smile. “Being alone with you was worth it.”
I rub his head, watching as his hazel eyes slowly start closing.
“It’s only a four-hour drive tomorrow,” I whisper. “We should sleep in.”
“Sounds good,” he mumbles.
Leaning over, I kiss his cheek. “I love you, Wilder.”
“I love you more, Ingrid.”
Then, sleep overtakes him and he snores softly.
I cross the room, careful to be quiet, and prop my duffel bag up on the chair. For a second, I glance back at Wilder asleep on the bed. He’s still wearing his clothes from earlier today and he never pulled back the sheets.
Something is bothering him. I know it. And if I was more like Isla, I’d grab Wilder’s phone and check his messages.
Everything inside me is telling me to do it.
I bite my lip and start searching through my bag for my pajamas.
I trust Wilder completely.
But I’m also curious.
What’s so important that he’d tell Cash and not me?
No, I can’t go through his phone.
That’s a complete invasion of privacy.
I’d be pissed if Wilder went through mine.
But I’m not hiding something and he is.
Taking a deep breath, I set my pajamas on top of my bag and head straight for the bedside table he put his phone on.
I pick it up, watching him closely.
He’s still snoring softly.
Licking my lips nervously, I type in his code. 1234. He said it’s the easiest set of numbers to remember.
Which sounds exactly like something Wilder would do.
Just as I’m about to click on his messages app, the bathroom door creaks open.
In a frantic rush, I nearly drop Wilder’s cell phone on his head before slamming it down on the bedside table with a little too much force.
Cash exits the bathroom and looks at me.
“What are you doing?” he whisper-yells, his damp blond hair caked to his forehead.
“Nothing,” I lie as I cross my arms over my chest and head back to my duffel bag. Not good enough, Ingrid. Think of a better lie!
“Just trying to find an outlet to plug in my phone,” I decide on.
Cash shrugs. “Well, you don’t have to be weird about it.”
I snap my fingers. “Right.”
“You want to check out the pool?” Cash suggests.
I swallow hard as I glance over at Wilder. He’s passed out. I don’t even think an earthquake would wake him.
“Um… yeah. Sure.”
I grab my phone and slide it into my back pocket as Cash grabs a hotel room key card off the desk.
When we reach the door, I look back at Wilder.
“He’ll be fine,” Cash whispers. “He needs to rest.”
I nod. “Yeah, you’re right.”
The small hotel pool is filled with people as we climb down a set of concrete stairs.
The muggy Texas heat clings to my skin as the late summer sun dips lower on the horizon.
Cash opens the black-iron fence gate and I slip through it, ignoring the pang of awkwardness that flashes between us.
Five years ago, I couldn’t imagine a life without Cash being the center of it. I lived and breathed Cash Allred like everything depended on it. And sometimes, I think he needed me more than he liked me.
He liked that I thought the sun rose and set every time he showed up.
I probably would have liked that, too.
And now?
Now, I wonder how much longer Cash will stick around. At some point, he’s either going to get tired of Wilder and I’s relationship taking center stage—or he’ll suck it up.
Which is why him meeting Britta is such a big deal.
Cash has spent his whole life sharing people.
His dad. His mom. Even Wilder.
Having something of his own might be good for him.
“Is here good?” Cash asks as he points to two empty chairs.
“Yeah,” I reply, clearing my throat.
Cash and I haven’t been alone together since we were searching Fanny Allred’s home office for proof that she framed Jason and got him fired.
We’ve never even talked about it.
We should, right?
“Why do you look so terrified?” Cash asks me.
I shift in the plastic chair, uncomfortable.
“I was thinking about your mom framing my dad,” I answer honestly.
Cash nods, the ends of his hair the only part still wet in the heat.
“I’m sorry she did that,” he apologizes.
I wave him off with an exaggerated flick of my wrist. “No worries.”
Cash scoffs. “I think my mom almost ruining your life is not something we should say ‘no worries’ to.”
My face heats. Just a little.
And it hits me how Wilder never makes me feel this way. He never makes me feel like I’m saying the wrong thing.
“She’s in jail,” I say bluntly, watching as Cash flinches. “Pretty sure justice is going to take care of itself there.”
“Fair point,” he concedes as if this conversation is a fight only one of us can win.
“How are you, uh…” I trail off as I scratch the back of my neck. “Handling all of that?”
Cash shrugs. “I wish I had a normal family.”
I laugh softly. “I don’t think they exist.”
“Something like normal then,” he rephrases.
“I think we all want that,” I muse. “People who love and accept us without having to earn it.”
“A home that doesn’t feel like a warzone,” Cash thoughtfully adds.
I slowly nod my head. “Yeah.”
“Why do people have to fight all the time?” he asks me.
Isla.
She instantly comes to mind.
And Jason and Jill.
They’re always at war. Always trying to diplomatically deal with Queen Isla and her ruthless demands.
“I think people are selfish,” I say to him. “Not inherently. But they want their way and they get angry when they don’t get it.”
Isla wants my bedroom for a nursery. Jason and Jill want peace and quiet.
But they don’t realize that I live there, too. And I’m the one always absorbing the tension whether that’s their intention or not.
“Both my parents are selfish,” Cash exhales hard. “I don’t want to be like them, Ingrid.”
I shake my head as the sun dips below the horizon. “You won’t be.”
He chuckles softly. “I always thought it would have been nice to be born into a family like yours.”
I smile. “Jason and Jill are okay, but the real problem is Isla.”
“Oh,” he says as his eyes widen. “I’m aware.”
We’re sisters. We’ll always be sisters. But I don’t think there will ever be a time where we’re friends.
And that stings.
“Maybe growing up like this just teaches us what we don’t want.”
Cash exhales heavily. “Wild didn’t grow up in a normal home either.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
“Sometimes, he seems like the most normal one of the three of us.”
I scoff. “I resent that comment.”
“I just mean,” he says with a short laugh, “that you and I weren’t supposed to have messed-up home lives. Our parents were married. But I guess it doesn’t matter, does it? Toxic is toxic regardless of whether there’s a marriage certificate.”
“It’s true.”
Except without Isla around, Jason and Jill are pretty solid in their marriage. Unlike Fanny and Archibald were.
Cash takes a sobering breath as a gentle breeze drifts through the pool area. Families are getting out of the water—mostly kids who are yawning or saying they’re hungry.
“There’s something I need you to know,” Cash begins.
I twist to face him and frown. “What?”
He reaches for my hand. I hesitate before letting him hold it.
“I still love you, Ingrid,” he admits quietly.
Did I hear him right?
He still loves me? Guess Wilder was telling the truth.
But I don’t want Cash to be in love with me. I don’t want him to confess his feelings or try to fight for me.
I want Wilder. No one else.
“I also want you to know that I think Wild is the better choice,” he continues as his hand falls from mine. “You’re happier with him. You were never this happy with me.”
I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet.
“I didn’t get the version of you he does.”
“What version is that?” I ask.
He hitches his shoulder. “You’re more comfortable with him. I can see it.”
“I don’t know what to say, Cash,” I admit.
“I don’t want you to say anything,” he returns. “I just needed to get that off my chest. I want to be friends. Not close like Wild and I are. But I think it might be good if we can peacefully co-exist.”
I eye him, wary. “I’ve tried that for the past year.”
“I know,” Cash says, his head dropping into his hands before he gazes back up at me. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make things hard. I’ve been dealing with a lot and taking it out on the people who have been there for me has been… shitty.”
The corner of my lips tips up. “Did you just cuss, Cash?”
He rolls his eyes as the last remnants of daylight dance across the sky.
“I did.”
Cash has always been careful not to say bad words. Even when Wilder would try tricking him into saying one. It’s one of those things I’ve always struggled with about Cash. When he feels strongly about something, he stands his ground for a while.
Until he caves.
When Cash and I first started dating, we went to a petting zoo for a school trip. I know. High schoolers at a petting zoo?
But Mrs. Crabtree (our English teacher) insisted we pet the animals.
When we reached the last enclosure, there was a donkey. Wilder asked Cash what another name for a donkey was.
Cash ignored him.
So, Wilder kept pushing.
And pushing.
Until finally, Cash blew up and yelled, “You’re a real jackass, Wild.”
Wilder punched a triumphant fist into the air.
Mrs. Crabtree gave them both detention the following day.
Even then, they clashed.
Wilder and Cash’s friendship—while formidable—hasn’t been without its complications.
And sometimes, I wonder if I’ve been the biggest complication.
“I was so angry with you for going to Europe,” I admit.
Cash nods. “I know.”
“I understand why you did it,” I say, “but that was the easy way out.”
“My mom has always been overwhelming,” he admits. “When she wants something, she’ll stop at nothing to get it.”
Which leads to my next question.
“If you knew she didn’t like me, why did you keep dating me?”
Cash shrugs. “I was in love with you.”
“It’s that simple, huh?”
“It was simple then,” he corrects.
Silence falls between us—easy and quiet.
He’s still in love with me.
Wilder was right.
He’s always right.
I used to think that love was easy. Meet someone you like. Spend every waking minute together. Fall in love.
But it’s not simple or easy.
It’s about compatibility and timing.
Cash and I had timing.
Wilder and I have compatibility.
Turns out those aren’t the same thing.
And hurting Cash is something I might always feel guilty about.
“I’m sorry,” I say to him. “About Wilder and me.”
He gnaws on the inside of his cheek. “It’s okay. Really.”
“I never meant to hurt you,” I whisper. “I just…”
“Fell in love,” Cash finishes for me.
My throat burns. “Yeah.”
Silence falls between us again.
We’re two people with too much history and nowhere to put it.