Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Sad Goodbye
Ingrid
Wilder and I lean against the car door as Cash says goodbye to Britta. The sun is setting in the distance, and the warm California breeze wraps around us like an old friend.
Wilder’s fingers find mine, and I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“You think it’s love?” he asks me quietly.
I glance up at him as he motions to Cash and Britta.
My eyes follow his line of sight.
Cash scratches the back of his neck, his shoulders low.
I’ve studied him long enough to know he’s not interested.
And for a split second, something strange loosens in my chest. Relief, maybe. Or familiarity. Or the selfish little comfort of knowing I’m not the only one struggling to move on from what we used to be.
It doesn’t mean I want him.
I don’t.
But there’s something unsettling about watching someone who used to love you take one more step away from you. Even when you’re the one who already left.
Fanny is still on the loose and, according to Pierre’s blog, The Pierre Files, he’s been staked out in front of the Allred Mansion hoping to catch a sighting.
He’s even doing minute-by-minute updates.
But that’s not important right now.
What matters is that we’re heading home and it’s going to be a long trip back. Cash hasn’t said a word to me since he saw Wilder and me in the tent doing… well, anyway.
He hasn’t said a word.
And maybe that’s why his goodbye to Britta unsettles me.
Wilder clears his throat.
Oh right.
Is it love?
“Not sure,” I say. “You’re his best friend. Just ask him.”
Wilder chuckles. “You’re feisty today.”
Despite everything, I smile. “Need coffee.”
“I will get you coffee,” he promises before kissing me.
His lips linger and I breathe him in.
But my phone rings and we both groan, our mouths parting as I dig my phone out of my pocket.
Unknown caller.
For some reason, the hair on the back of my neck stands straight up.
“Spam?” I ask Wilder as I show him my phone.
He shrugs. “Maybe.”
But what if it’s Elowyn? Or Harvey? Someone who needs to get ahold of Wilder. Or me.
Normally, I don’t answer unknown callers.
This time, I do.
“Hello?” I say into the phone as Wilder frowns.
There’s dead silence.
“Hello?” I say again.
“Just hang up, Blondie,” Wilder mutters.
Then, I hear it. The faintest sound. Someone breathing.
“Whoever you are,” I snap, “don’t call me—”
“Ingrid,” I hear.
That voice. I’ve heard it a thousand times before. Always laced with disgust.
“Fanny,” I return as Wilder’s green eyes widen. “How did you get my number?”
“Your mother,” she replies without missing a beat.
Fear races through me. Last summer, Fanny made it her mission to destroy my family. What if this summer, she escaped prison to finish what she started?
“What do you want?” I hear myself say.
“I need to speak with my son.”
I scoff. “I don’t think so.”
“He’s been avoiding my calls.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“You’ve always been rude.” Fanny lets out a sigh as I narrow my eyes. How dare she! “But,” she continues, “you’ve always protected Cash. I suppose I should thank you for that.”
Wait.
What?
“I—”
“I’m not done,” she snaps. “Where I’m going… I won’t be reachable. I need you to keep an eye on him. Whatever you might think of me, I love Cash and I’ve only ever wanted what was best for him.”
“What is she saying?” Wilder whisper-yells.
I shake my head at him, trying to figure out what she means.
“Given everything that’s happened, I believe I was right about you.” Her tone is all snark and snide. “You were always temporary, Ingrid. You just didn’t know it. But I won’t be around, Ingrid. My choices have made that impossible.”
“If you really cared about him,” I say, “you wouldn’t have made the choices you did.”
“I wanted what was best for him then,” she counters. “It’s true. Now, as a mother, I want him to be happy.”
“Where are you going?” I ask her.
She laughs softly. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Oh. My. Gawd.
She’s making a run for it.
Anger courses through me like molten lava.
“You should stand trial for what you did to my father,” I argue. “You should show your son what a real mother does. She takes responsibility for her mistakes. She doesn’t run because it’s easier.”
“You think this is easier?” She lets out a short laugh. “You think leaving everything behind is the easy path?”
“You assaulted an officer with a spork,” I remind her.
“It was plastic,” she scoffs. “Let’s not be theatrical.”
“Don’t do this,” I practically beg. “Even if you’re behind bars, Cash needs you.”
“He hasn’t needed me for a long time,” she sighs. “Not since he met you.”
I don’t know what to do with that.
“I’d like to say goodbye to my son now,” she says gently.
My gaze lands on Cash. He’s hugging Britta. Awkwardly.
He doesn’t want anything to do with Fanny. He hasn’t visited her in jail. Rarely even talks about her.
“No,” I say into the phone.
Speaker! Wilder mouths.
“There will come a day,” Fanny exhales, “when he asks you why you didn’t let him say goodbye. I hope you have a good reason, Ingrid.”
Then, the line goes dead.
I pull the phone away from my ear.
“What the fuck was that?” Wilder whispers, his eyes glancing between Cash and me. “She called you?”
My head throbs. “I don’t know. She wanted to get ahold of Cash.”
“So, she called you?” Wilder raises an eyebrow. “That’s convenient.”
“What do you mean?”
Wilder shakes his head. “She’s putting it on you. Again. Fanny always does this. She could have called Cash. Or Archibald. Or even me. But she chose you.”
I slap a hand to my forehead.
There will come a day when he asks you why you didn’t let him say goodbye. I hope you have a good reason, Ingrid.
I can’t believe I fell for it.
Fanny is on the run. She’s not coming back. She doesn’t want to go to jail. And instead of being the one to tell Cash, she let it fall to me. I have to be the one to tell him that she’s leaving. That she chose herself. Again.
“Fanny Allred is Satan incarnate,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Is she?” I hear Cash say behind me.
I close my eyes before turning around to face him.
Swallowing hard, I clear my throat. “You ready to get on the road?”
Cash clicks his tongue. “Nope.”
“Just tell him, Blondie,” Wilder grumbles.
“Tell me what?” Cash asks as he crosses his arms over his chest.
“Nothing,” I quickly reply.
“If you know something about my mom,” Cash says, “I’d like to know.”
It always falls to me.
I have to be the bearer of bad news.
“Your mom called me,” I tell him. Cash goes still. “She said she’s leaving. For good.”
Cash shrugs. “Is that all?”
Wilder and I share a worried glance.
“I mean… yeah?” I say.
“I don’t care if I ever see her again.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“She made my life a living hell.”
And mine, but who’s counting?
“Cash,” I say gently, “she’s made a lot of mistakes and—”
“She’s a terrible person,” Cash interjects. “Let it go, Ingrid. In case you forgot, you’re not my girlfriend anymore. So, not your problem.”
I see red.
“And whose fault is that?” I snap.
“Ingrid,” Wilder groans. “Don’t start.”
Cash smirks. “You’re the one who cheated.”
I lunge for him, but Wilder’s arms circle my waist, holding me back.
“I never cheated,” I snap. “Don’t you dare rewrite that.”
“Blondie,” Wilder chuckles as he struggles to get me on my feet. “You’re not fighting Cash.”
“Yeah.” Cash waggles his stupid eyebrows. “You’re not fighting me.”
“I may be a lot of things,” I say to Cash. “But you ended things. You left. I didn’t cheat.”
“You knew I’d be back.”
“Did I?” I yell as Wilder puts himself between Cash and me. “Could have fooled me. Oh wait, you DID!”
“Stop bellowing,” Wilder scolds me. “People are starting to stare.”
A few of Britta’s neighbors are outside, pretending to water their lawns.
Cash rolls his eyes. “You’re so dramatic. No wonder Wilder was too afraid to tell you about NYU.”
All the fight leaves me.
Scared?
Wilder wasn’t scared to tell me about NYU because I’m dramatic. He didn’t tell me because he didn’t feel worthy of going.
That had nothing to do with me.
I look to Wilder, who’s already looking back at me.
“I fell right into her trap, didn’t I?”
Stupid Fanny.
Still instigating problems from… well… wherever she is.
“I didn’t tell you about NYU because I was scared,” Wilder makes clear before turning to face Cash. “And you really need to stop being a jackass ninety-eight percent of the time.”
“I’m not,” Cash argues weakly.
“You are,” Wilder returns coolly. “Come on, you guys. We only have so many summers before we’re tied to jobs we hate and in lives that force us to be responsible. Why are we wasting this summer fighting over the past?”
“Because you slept with her,” Cash mumbles.
“I fell in love with her,” Wilder rephrases. “And the difference between us, Cash, is that I never would have left her. That’s how much I love her.”
Cash’s eyes find the sidewalk. “I loved her, too.”
“You had a really shitty way of showing it,” Wilder says. “Can’t we just move past this? Cash?”
Cash shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“No one cheated,” Wilder begins. “But yeah, we all hurt each other.”
“Maybe that would be for the best,” Cash says, hanging his head.
“No,” I speak up. Cash raises his head. “Fanny started this mess. And while we all participated in it, we’re all friends. We’ve been friends for years. Maybe there have been some bumps along the way, but we’re doing so good. Don’t ruin it, Cash.”
Cash exhales heavily. “What happens when you two go to New York? And I decide to go to Baltimore?”
“It’s a two-hour train ride,” Wilder says. “We won’t see each other every day, but we’ll be close. Close enough to still be the kind of friends who don’t rip each other apart.”
Cash chuckles softly. “Never thought I’d see the day Wilder was the voice of reason.”
“Right?” I laugh.
There’s a moment where all the tension fades and I see Cash as he is. Someone who was given everything, but the one thing he needed. A real family.
And Wilder and me? We’re all he has left.
We stand there for a second, all three of us breathing hard, like no one knows what to do with the fact that we’re still here.
“Let’s make a pact,” I say. “We’ll spend two weekends out of the month together. One weekend, Wilder and I will head to Baltimore. The next weekend, Cash comes to New York.”
“I like that plan.” Cash nods.
“What about summers?” Wilder pipes up.
“We’ll do the first summer in New York,” Cash volunteers. “And figure it out from there.”
“If I can figure out—”
“Oh, shut up, Wilder.” Cash smiles. “You’re going.”
Wilder’s eyes find mine.
“You’re going,” I tell him.
“Should we hug it out?” Wilder proposes as he opens his arms.
Cash and I step forward.
Somehow, in the middle of a neighborhood in Southern California, in the middle of a hug, whatever was broken starts healing.
And somehow, the only person I have to thank for that is the last person who deserves it.
Fanny freaking Allred.