Chapter Twenty-Four
The Pacific Ocean
Ingrid
“Loretta's Laser Hair and Wax Removal,” I hear on the other end of the phone. “This is Isla. How can we whack that bush for you today?”
If Harvey the Hobbling Senior Citizen hadn’t just left my pregnant sister all alone, I might laugh.
But instead, I exhale.
“It’s Ingrid,” I say.
There’s a pause before she asks, “Are you needing to book an appointment?”
“No,” I tell her. “I was calling to see how you were doing.”
“Shit timing, Ingrid,” Isla snarls. “I’m a hardworking single mother. I don’t have time to check in and discuss my feelings.”
I take a moment to breathe as Wilder fills up the car with gas.
He shoots me a concerned look, but I just shrug.
“You weren’t answering my texts or phone calls to your cell,” I try again.
“I’m busy!” she snaps, but I hear the hurt in her voice.
She’s sad. Even if she’ll never admit it, she’s devastated Harvey left her.
“I’m sorry,” I offer.
“No one is as busy as I am, Ingrid,” she begins. I think about hanging up on her, but I also know Isla. She’s horrible and ornery, but she’s also human. She needs to get this off her chest.
“I’m sorry,” I say again.
“You have no idea how hard it is to be a single mother, work a part-time job, prepare yourself for a baby, and figure out how to sign up for online classes since I can’t obviously show my face on campus after this unfortunate scandal.”
I don’t have the heart to tell that her choices have led her here.
No one else’s.
Some people will create their own storms, but throw a fit when it rains.
There is no changing my sister.
“Is there anything I can help with?” I ask.
She scoffs. “You could stop being so incredibly selfish and let me have your room. My child needs a place to sleep.”
I roll my eyes. “Your child can sleep in your room, Isla.” With you, and your terrible decisions.
“You’re impossible.”
“I’m impossible?” Uh-oh.
“Blondie,” Wilder whispers.
“You’re the most irresponsible person I know,” I continue, undeterred. “You can’t uproot my life because you don’t know how to use birth control.”
“Oh!” Isla screeches. “I can’t believe you’d stoop so low, Ingrid. You have no idea what my life is going to be like. I’ll be all alone. Every day. While Harvey probably finds a new undergrad student to fuck.”
I did not need that visual.
“I’m not giving you my room,” I make clear.
“Then give me your job,” she demands.
I think I hear Pierre in the background scream no, but I can’t be sure.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell her.
“You’re the worst sister in the world.”
“I love you, Isla.”
“I hate you, Ingrid.”
Then, there’s a resounding click.
She hung up on me.
I stare at the phone in my hand as Wilder twists the gas cap back on.
“I’ve never met anyone as aggravating as my sister,” I tell him.
He offers me a small smile. “She’s going through a lot.”
“She keeps making the same mistakes,” I return coolly. “And I’m tired of those mistakes falling on my shoulders. Why do I have to give up my room and my job for her? She always makes everything about her.”
Suddenly, the realization hits hard.
That’s how my relationship was with Cash, too. It was either about him or Fanny or Archibald. It was never about me.
But that’s not how it is with Wilder.
I reach for him, pulling him close. Then, I rest my forehead against his as the warm California summer breeze wraps around us.
“How much farther to the beach?” I ask him.
He rubs his nose against mine. “About forty minutes.”
I’ve been pushing him to live together. To go to NYU. All my asks have been purely selfish. I want to get away from my family.
What about Wilder? What does he want? What’s best for him?
“What do you want, Wilder?” I murmur as I close my eyes.
“Only you,” he responds as his fingers find my hair.
“I mean it,” I reinforce. “What do you want? Do you want to go to NYU? Do you want to stay home and build a life in the same place we grew up? What do you want, Wilder?”
He exhales through his nose. “I’m not sure, Ingrid.”
I frown.
“But,” he continues. “When I figure it out, I promise you’ll be the first person I tell.”
I nod. “I’ve been selfish like Isla,” I admit. “I want to live with you because I want to be alone with you, but I also want to get away from my family. That’s not fair to you, and I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize,” Wilder reassures me.
“It’s not selfish to want things, Ingrid.
It’s not even selfish to verbalize them or ask the person you love to make your life easier.
I want to do that for you, but I also want to be smart about it.
I want a long life with you, Blondie. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we live a comfortable one. ”
I smile. “But is that what you want?”
“Yes.”
“Does this long, comfortable life include you chasing your dreams?”
He shrugs. “If there’s a way to go to NYU, we’ll figure it out. I’m not going to stress out about it. And I don’t want you to either.”
“Okay,” I say to him.
“I know you think I’m giving up something for you, but I’m not.”
I’m not sure I believe him, but I let it go.
We’re so close to our last bucket list item.
I want to enjoy it before we head home to… whatever is waiting for us.
“Come on,” I say to him. “Let’s go swim in the Pacific Ocean.”
“Your chariot awaits, Blondie,” he jests as he opens the car door.
I slide into the backseat as Cash twists to face me.
“GPS says we’re thirty-nine minutes away,” he tells me. “We’re almost there.”
We are.
The Pacific Ocean doesn’t look anything like I thought it would. It’s bright and sunny—albeit a little hazy—and there’s even a sailboat floating off shore.
We made it.
We actually made it here.
In one piece.
“Have you ever seen anything so… vast?” Cash asks us as he stands in awe beside Wilder.
“Never,” Wilder returns.
“Or anything so refreshing?” he adds.
“Nope,” Wilder answers.
“Race you!” Cash hollers, then he takes off running, his feet kicking up sand.
Wilder and I watch him go.
“You think he realizes his cell phone is in his pocket?” I say.
Wilder chuckles. “I don’t think so.”
Cash’s bare feet hit the water, and he realizes mid-run that he has his phone on him. He skids to a halt, shoves his hand into his back pocket and pulls it out. Then, he turns and runs back to us.
“I’ll put all our phones in the car,” Wilder says as I hand over my cell.
Cash shakes his head. “That would have been bad.”
“Wait!” I say as Cash hands his phone to Wilder. “We should take a selfie. At least one.”
Both boys seem okay with it because Wilder leans in on my right and Cash leans in on my left.
I snap the photo and then we all hand Wilder our phones.
The moment he’s gone, the space between Cash and me fills with tension.
Long, thick, suffocating tension.
“I think I have trauma from the last time we took a photo on your phone,” he quietly admits.
Oh, right.
The video.
“I’m really sorry about that,” I say to him as his gaze shifts to the sand. “I… feel really terrible.”
“About sleeping with Wilder or me finding out in the worst way imaginable?”
Guilt floods my chest.
I don’t regret last summer with Wilder. But I do regret the way Cash found out about it.
“I’m sorry that you found out the way you did,” I say, the words sounding steadier than I feel. “If I had a do-over, I’d tell you right away what was going on with Wilder and me. I’m sorry I kept that from you. You deserved more than that from me.”
Cash gives me a small smile. “I appreciate you saying that, Ingrid.”
“I mean it,” I continue. “I’m sorry.”
He nods and finally looks at me. His blue eyes—once so familiar—feel distant and strange now.
“Thank you.”
He looks deep in thought. I wonder if he’s thinking about his mother. Or his father. This whole trip, he’s avoided the subject of his family like the plague.
“Have you talked to your parents at all?” I ask.
Cash shakes his head. “Nope.”
Silence falls between us again. But this time, it’s a little easier to stomach. There’s not so much tension.
“You know,” Cash says, nearly startling me. “This road trip was more fun than I thought it was going to be.”
“It has been fun,” I reply as I shove my hands into my pockets.
“What’s been your favorite bucket list item so far?” he asks.
I shrug. “Probably the ocean right now. Or maybe Cadillac Ranch.”
“I think the Sandia Tram was my favorite,” he returns.
Something about the way he says it stings.
“You mean because Wilder was lying to me and he finally had to tell the truth?” I counter.
Cash’s eyebrows knit together. “No, not at all. I just… I’m tired of holding onto secrets for people. It felt good to finally… I don’t know. Breathe.”
Breathe.
I hadn’t thought about it that way. Cash has kept his fair share of secrets for the people close to him.
And if I know one thing about him, it’s that he can’t function when he’s trying to hold everything in.
“You’re a good friend,” I say.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He chuckles as he looks out over the ocean. “I’ve thought about punching Wilder in the face at least a hundred times since we left home.”
I laugh.
And it feels good.
“Ready to get wet?” Wilder breathes out, his chest rising and falling from running back to the car.
Cash clears his throat. “Yeah.”
Wilder grabs my hand and tugs me toward the water. “Come on, Blondie.”
I smile and follow as Cash jogs behind us.
The water is much colder than I anticipate, even in the middle of summer.
Cash kicks the water in our direction, but Wilder grabs me around the waist and twists me so the water hits his back.
I laugh, grateful for the sunshine above and the warm California breeze.
We spend an hour running through the water, collecting rocks and seashells, and soaking in the sun.
By the time the sun starts to lower in the sky, my stomach is growling.
“I’m starving,” I say.
Cash points to a few buildings down the street. “Wanna see if there’s somewhere to grab something to eat?”
Wilder nods. “We can get our phones on the way.”
We make the long trek through the warm sand to the street. I stop to wipe the sandy pebbles from the bottom of my feet. But Wilder suddenly crouches in front of me, I blink.
I guess he wants to play a game?
“I’m not playing leapfrog with you right now,” I say. “I’m too tired.”
Cash laughs hysterically.
Wilder groans. “Get on my back, Blondie. I’ll carry you.”
Oh. Whoops.
“I didn’t realize…” I trail off.
I climb onto Wilder’s back and he pushes off the concrete as my arms wrap around his shoulders and neck.
Wilder and Cash make small talk, reminiscing about the hours we spent at the creek every summer.
I close my eyes and lay my head on Wilder’s shoulder, my feet no longer aching.
“I’m going to set you down, Blondie,” Wilder whispers.
I yawn. “Okay.”
Once I’m standing on both feet, Wilder releases me and unlocks my car.
He grabs our phones from the center console and passes them out.
Predictably, no one has contacted me.
But I see out of the corner of my eye that Elowyn has texted Wilder.
Predictably, he ignores it.
Suddenly, Cash gasps as he holds up his phone.
There, on the front page of our small town gazette’s website, is an alarming article.
Notorious Small-Town Embezzler, Fanny Allred, Has Escaped From Prison
My eyes widen.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Wilder groans as he takes the phone from Cash.
Wilder reads the article, but I’m too busy watching Cash to pay any attention to the sentences he throws out every few seconds.
Even from two thousand miles away, Fanny Allred is making sure everyone’s still talking about her.