Chapter Twenty-One
The Grand Canyon
Wilder
Ingrid’s pissed.
That text message made sure of it.
I should have said it nicer. I know I should have. Telling her not to treat me like Cash was a low blow. Can’t even figure out why I said it. A part of me thinks it’s because I wanted to make her mad.
Well, it worked.
Maybe another part of me said it because I concealed the truth from her when I knew better and I deserve her anger.
I didn’t tell her right away because I didn’t want to lose her—not on this trip and not to NYU.
My dad and his other family are tucked safely in a box I don’t unpack often. To be honest, I wouldn’t even know how to.
There’s so much to go through.
Why he left.
When he decided Mom and I weren’t worthy of his time and energy.
Elowyn being a secret.
Margot being fine with everything.
But Cash—and probably her parents, too—have conditioned Ingrid to just settle for the bare minimum. My actions, included.
I love her too much to walk all over her.
So, she’s pissed. And that’s okay.
We’ll figure it out.
Or we’ll implode.
Only time will tell.
“She’s spent the whole day ignoring you,” Cash says as he drops onto the bench beside me.
Ingrid’s about twenty feet ahead of us on the trail taking photos of the sunset.
We’ve walked the rim all day on the well-worn path, and she hasn’t even looked at me.
“She’ll be fine,” I say to him.
Cash leans forward and watches her. “What did you do?”
I swallow hard. “I told her not to treat me like she treated you.”
He frowns. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” I say with a groan, “she let you walk all over her and never stood up for herself.”
“So, you’re standing up for her by not letting her let you walk all over her?”
I nod. “Yep.”
“You’re an idiot,” Cash tells me. “A colossal idiot.”
I might be an idiot, but I’ll never be the guy who let my mom destroy her confidence and tell her she wasn’t good enough.
“I’m aware,” I finally say.
“I thought that you just wanted to have sex with her at first,” Cash begins. “Just another conquest or whatever.” I raise an eyebrow as I glance over at him. “But I know you love her. It’s obvious.”
My eyes find Ingrid again. She’s swiping away on her phone, probably looking at all the photos she just took.
“Glad you’ve wised up,” I mumble.
“The thing about Ingrid is that she needs space,” he counsels me. About my own girlfriend. The one he walked all over for years. “Even if she doesn’t say it.”
I scoff. This explains so much. Explains why he would abandon her for the golf course. Why he wouldn’t sleep with her for months on end. Why he let his mommy talk him into leaving her for Europe last summer.
Ingrid doesn’t need space.
She needs to know someone’s staying. That she doesn’t have to change or be molded into someone Fanny Allred thinks is “better”.
It’s why I can’t go to New York unless she goes with me.
And I’m not going until she finishes college.
“You should apologize to her,” Cash suggests.
I smirk. “You’re the colossal idiot.”
She’s not ready to hear my apology. When she’s ready, she knows I’m right here. But she’s kept her distance all day. Which means she’s trying to figure out how she feels, what she feels, and what she needs.
How could Cash spend four years with her and still not understand who she is?
“I’m going to go talk to her,” Cash says as he pushes off the bench and slowly jogs over to her.
He can try, but she’s not going to be responsive.
Sure enough, he says something to her, and she turns her back to him and continues to take more pictures of the sunset.
I chuckle softly before standing and walking over to the railing. The view below is incredible. A huge canyon so wide it’s crazy to think that water cut a path through it. Or however this giant hole came to be.
Kind of weird how standing on the edge of something so vast makes you feel so insignificant.
Margot’s cancer.
Dad leaving.
NYU.
Does any of it really matter? Will it in five years? In ten?
I take a sobering breath.
I only have one sister. I’ve kept her at arm’s length for a long time. Can I keep punishing her for having the life I was supposed to have while being madly in love with Ingrid?
Who knows if I’d be right here right now if my dad had stayed.
Would I trade Ingrid for the dad I wish I had?
The answer is a resounding fuck no.
If that’s the case, then I shouldn’t have any issues calling Elowyn. Or responding.
At the very least, being there for her.
“We’re ready to go,” Ingrid says behind me.
For a long second, I keep my gaze focused on the way the setting sun throws shadows across the canyon.
Then, I turn to face her.
She’s still wearing sunglasses. Still trying to put distance and walls and emotional space between us.
Good.
“I’m ready if you’re ready,” I say.
She smirks and turns to walk away, but I reach for her arm.
Her skin is warm beneath my touch, and I momentarily forget that I fucked up.
But Cash has no problem reminding Ingrid.
“Are you talking to him now?” he asks her as he gives me a judgy look.
I roll my eyes. He’s so immature.
Ingrid slips her arm out of my grasp.
“I’m tired,” she says, tone clipped.
It stings a little, but I know I deserve it.
I deserve her wrath.
Ingrid and Cash walk in front of me, and it reminds me of what life used to be like. Back when she was obsessed with him and he was… letting her have her independence.
Back when I was stuck in the backseat watching her out of the corner of my eye.
I lived for the moments when she’d glance my way without even realizing it. When she’d give me something small and insignificant to hold me over until the next time I saw her.
We reach the car and she grabs the front seat while Cash opens the driver’s door.
Guess I’m in the back.
As usual.
Cash makes small talk with Ingrid while I look out the window, watching as the sun dips behind the horizon.
Maybe I should say something, but then my phone vibrates and I see Ingrid’s sent me another message.
I hate fighting with you.
I don’t respond right away because I don’t know what to say. That I hate fighting with her? Except we’re not really fighting. She’s giving me the silent treatment.
Before I can think of something, she sends another message.
Has Cash always been this boring?
A short laugh escapes and Cash looks over his shoulder at me.
I ignore him and type back. Yes.
Ingrid lets out a long sigh.
Another message pops up.
I didn’t mean what I said about our relationship not lasting. I’m just… confused.
I don’t want to have this conversation over text, but there’s another hour left in our drive. Might as well spend it trying to repair everything I’ve broken.
Confused about what? I send.
Three dots appear. She’s typing. Then they disappear. Reappear.
“I have to pee,” she suddenly announces to the whole car.
Cash groans. “Seriously?”
“I have a small bladder,” she returns, monotone.
“There’s literally nowhere to pee, Ingrid,” Cash grumbles.
“Then pull over to the side of the road,” she snaps at him. “Or is that too hard for you?”
He exits onto a side road and pulls over.
In true Cash Allred fashion, he puts on the hazard lights and makes seven different comments about how unsafe it is to be parked on the side of the road. Something about people dying.
Ingrid and I get out of the car at the same time.
Part of the sun is still hanging low on the horizon, painting her face in pink and gold.
“I’m sorry,” I rush to get out. “I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry that I made that stupid Cash comment.”
Ingrid nods slowly, her blond hair wrapping around her neck as a dry, hot breeze drifts past us.
“You’re right,” she says. “I let you off the hook too easily. But it’s not because I was treating you the same way I treated Cash. I just… I want this summer to be memorable. I wanted to finish the bucket list items and not do this. Especially not in front of Cash.”
“I know,” I tell her. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I just… I hated when Cash used to give me the silent treatment,” she groans. “I would rather be yelled at than ignored. And I’ve ignored you all day.”
I smile. “You weren’t ignoring me. You were figuring it out.”
She narrows her eyes playfully. “Don’t let me off the hook so easy, Wilder.”
“Come here,” I say and she instantly walks into my arms.
I hold her as tight as I can, breathing her in. She smells like vanilla and sunscreen and the only place I’ve ever felt safe.
Then, she tips her head up. And I can’t resist kissing her.
To my surprise, she backs me up several feet until I hit the side of the car. Her hands slide under my T-shirt, over my stomach, up to my chest as I shove my tongue into her mouth.
She moans as I kiss her like I’m starving.
And maybe I am.
But as our bodies tangle and our lips mold together, Cash honks the horn on the car.
Ingrid slumps against me.
“Cash ruins everything,” she says quietly.
My fingers run through her hair and I kiss her softly.
When we part, I jokingly say, “We should trademark that. Make it our slogan and print it on T-shirts.”
She smiles up at me, wide and unfiltered. “We should.”
Cash rolls down the window, and yells, “That doesn’t look like peeing to me!”
Ingrid lets out an exaggerated groan. “Can I sit in the back seat with you?”
“Yes,” I reply instantly.
We slip into the backseat as Cash adjusts the mirror to look at us. “Really? I look like a stupid chauffeur now.”
Ingrid rolls up the window and lays her head on my shoulder.
“Shut up and drive, Chauffeur,” she says.
Cash starts a long monologue about our treatment of him today, but we both ignore him as Ingrid’s lips find mine in the fading light.
Ingrid makes me feel seen in a way no one else ever has. Not in some lame, fairy tale way. In the way we all want to be seen. For who we are, even at our worst.
She breaks the kiss and yawns as I adjust in the backseat to let her lay in my arms, her head on my chest.
Cash has now switched topics and is debating whether he should go to Baltimore and try medicine.
As much as I want to listen to him, I’m distracted by the way Ingrid leans harder into me.
It dawns on me that as much as I need her, she needs me, too.
She needs to hear things from me first.
Not Cash.
She needs me to be the kind of guy who sets aside years of being pissed at my dad to help my sister.
She needs me to be someone who says the right things, even when I don’t want to.
I know I don’t deserve her.
And maybe I don’t need to earn her love, but she loves me.
Why wouldn’t I try to be the guy she needs me to be?
“I love you,” she whispers as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.
“I love you more,” I whisper back as I hold her tighter.
Watching her curl against me, finally relaxed, I realize I’m her safe place, too.
And I don’t want to mess this up.
Not ever again.