Page 42 of Recklessly, Wildly Yours

Her pain twists across her face. “And what?”

“How did you feel that night? Did you really think you could go through with your wedding the next day?”

“We’ve talked about this, Ethan. I don’t really want to go over it again.”

I move into her space, in front of her. “I know. I know you just want to force this into that box you have inside you for the hurtful things in your life, but that’s not going to help you move on. You need to get this shit out of your body. Unless, of course, you just want to sit in your mess and pretend it never happened.”

Her eyes widen, and I don’t blame her. My tone was intentionally sharp. I want to help her get to her anger and if I have to make her angry at me first to do that, so be it.

“Do I look like I’m happily sitting in my mess?” she demands, and I sense the first stirrings of what I’m looking for.

“No, but what are you doing about it? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re scrambling to find all the ways to go on without letting it out of that box.”

Now, her eyes are blazing with outrage. “And to think that I thought you didn’t have any asshole in you.”

“Everyone has some asshole in them, Maddie.” I dip my face down to get even more in hers. “Tell me how it made you feel to know Tucker was out there fucking other women, for years, while he forced you to perform perfectly for the world, wearing what he told you to wear, writing what he told you to write, saying what he told you to say, and—”

“I hated him!” She smacks her hands to my chest, pushing me away. “I hated that he made me feel like a fool! I despised him and Darren for making me give myself up. But mostly, I hated myself for being so fucking naïve and stupid.”

I want to tell her she’s not stupid, but I don’t think my opinion will count for much. Not when she’s got years of wiring to untangle so she can believe it herself.

“Say it louder, Miller. Scream that shit out.”

Her eyes, wild now, search mine madly. “I want him to hurt as much I am.”

I make a hand movement to indicate I want her to turn this shit up. “Louder.”

“I want Darren to hurt too.” Still too fucking quiet.

I move back into her space and yell in her face, “Louder!” I jab her chest. “Here! Scream it from here!”

She snaps and it’s so fucking beautiful to watch someone let it all out when you know they never have. She throws her head back, opens her mouth, and screams so fucking loudly that I’m sure I’ll have to fend people off who will think she needs rescuing.

When she stops and brings her gaze back to mine, she’s breathless and her eyes shine with freedom and abandon. Then, she lifts her face to the sky and screams again. This time, she extends her arms out and shakes them while her entire body vibrates with the release, her feet pounding the ground.

“Fuck!” she exclaims after finishing, still shaking out her hands and bouncing on the spot. “Maybe you’re not really an asshole. That felt pretty good.”

I chuckle. “I’ll take the asshole tag. Plenty of people would agree with you.”

Still breathless, she says, “I don’t remember ever saying I hate someone.”

“You feel bad about saying it?”

She thinks about that for a moment and just when I wonder if she’ll say yes, she shakes her head. “No. I do hate them and I’m okay with feeling that.” Lifting her face to the sky, she exhales a loud breath and flings her arms out, releasing more of the wild energy that I think has been trapped for a long time. “I kinda hate having to tell someone they were right.” She turns her face to mine and smiles. “But you were right. Screaming was what I needed.”

I have no idea what I did to earn this woman stumbling into my life and bringing a refreshing amount of realness with her. She’s a breath of fresh air for me.

“You wanna scream some more or can we get out of here before the cops show up ready to arrest me?”

Her smile turns to a grin. “Now you’re worried about the police? What happened to being a rule breaker, Black?”

“I’m not worried about myself. I’m thinking of you. I don’t wanna give social media something else to slam you with tomorrow.”

Her grin fades, and her eyes—fixed on mine—hold a heat that makes my gut tighten. There’s gratitude there, maybe, but there’s also a simmering intensity that feels a hell of a lot like desire. “I’m done screaming.” She steps closer to me, bringing with her that floral scent I like far too much, and says softly, “Thank you.”

She may have uttered only two words with absolutely no context, but I don’t need that or a whole speech of what she’s really saying. I know what she’s thanking me for.

I nod. “You got it. Anytime.” My voice is rougher than I intended because that’s what she’s doing to me. Stealing my ability to get a handle on myself.

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